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I will not give them the satisfaction of seeing my vulnerability.
A sleek black sedan idles outside, two armed men standing beside it. As we approach, they pull open the doors and usher us in. I slide into the backseat, Conti and Stefano boxing me in. The goons take the front seats, casting wary glances at me in the rearview mirror.
Conti raps out something in Italian, and the sedan purrs to life, pulling out into the busy New York traffic.
"Now, tell me about yourself, Isabella," Conti says silkily. "How did a pretty little thing like you inherit an empire?"
I clench my jaw, staring out the tinted window at the city streets flashing by. I do not owe this snake any explanations. But I sense refusing to answer will only anger him, and I am in no position to make an enemy of the head of New York's oldest crime family.
With reluctance, I say, "My father built his company from nothing. When he died, everything passed to me."
I keep the details sparse and my tone flat, not wanting to invite more questions.
"And where is this empire of yours now?" Conti asks slyly. "Who is running it in your absence?"
I bristle at his suggestive tone. My father's company is none of his business. But I need to play along, for now. "My executives are maintaining operations until I return."
"Hmm." Conti seems unconvinced. I feel the weight of his gaze on me but refuse to look at him. "Perhaps it is time your empire came under new management. I am always here to advise you, if need be."
My hands curl into fists in my lap. Over my dead body. Conti and his mafia thugs will never get their hands on my father's legacy. I bite my tongue to avoid replying with something I will regret. There will be time enough to put this arrogant mobster in his place. But not now, not yet.
The sedan slows and turns between two stone pillars, passing under an ornate wrought-iron gate. We have arrived at Conti's estate.
I steel myself for whatever comes next in this viper's nest I have been thrown into.
The sedan pulls up a winding gravel drive, stopping before an immense Tudor mansion. Armed men flank the entrance, eyeing our approach warily.
My heart pounds as I step from the car, Stefano's hand gripping my elbow. I don't know whether he's doing that to comfort me, or control me.
I try to appear calm and aloof but I'm overwhelmed by the display of armed men surrounding us. This is a world I know nothing about, a dangerous world I want no part of.
Conti strides past us up the front steps, barking orders in Italian at his men who, I presume, just gave him some terrible news.
Stefano leads me inside the mansion, its opulent decor a stark contrast to the modernity that New York usually offers.
"Make yourself comfortable," he murmurs. "I need to speak with the Don for a moment. I will return shortly."
I just nod, too stunned to reply. Stefano squeezes my arm and hurries off after Conti.
Alone, I wander the foyer, examining priceless artworks and antiques. Voices drift in from another room, rising in anger. I creep toward the sounds, peering through an arched doorway into a grand study.
Conti paces before a massive desk, shouting at a man cowering before him and Stefano.
"How dare you come to me with such incompetence!" Conti roars. He hurls a glass decanter at the wall, shattering it. The man cringes away, pleading for mercy. But Conti has none. "You have failed me for the last time," he growls, drawing a gun from inside his jacket.
My breath catches in my throat. In the blink of an eye, Conti raises the gun and pulls the trigger. A shot cracks through the room. The man collapses, blood pooling around his head. I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle a scream, my heart pounding.
Conti tucks the gun away and adjusts his cuffs, unperturbed. Only now does he glance up, meeting my wide-eyed stare. A sinister smile curves his lips. "I trust this has been an illuminating experience for you, Signorina Torres. Welcome to my world."
I can't bear to look at Conti. Horrified, I turn my gaze to Stefano, who looks away from me.
"Come now," he tells me, inching closer. "Let me show you your home."
Conti's arm wraps around my waist, tugging me against his side as we walk up the winding stairs of his ostentatious mansion. His fingers dig into my hip, a sharp reminder of my helplessness here.
"Such a rare beauty," he purrs, his gaze raking over me in a way that makes my skin crawl. "It will be a pleasure keeping you under my roof."
Revulsion and fear curdle in my gut at his implication. I try to pull away, but his grip only tightens, a warning. I force myself to stay still, not daring to provoke his anger. We both know I am at his mercy, a lamb led to the slaughter.
