A Love So Dangerous

Sienna 

I held the razor-sharp knife tightly. I took no notice of the way the blade cut deep into the flesh of my palm. I took no notice of my crimson blood which spilled out and stained the carpet below. 

It actually relieved me. To feel my body in physical pain was a great distraction from the emotional pain that troubled me. I wasn't one to harm myself but I didn't know how to react and my knife was just there.

Father wanted me to get married to a stranger. No, he forced me to. He left me with no choice. Granted, I could run, I could hide, but I wouldn't do something like that. 

Throughout my whole life, I had been nothing but a disappointment to him and this affirmed it. I was nothing more than a mere commodity; an object to trade at his will. He never fucking liked me and I did nothing to earn his approval because I would never get it. 

My name was Sienna Zannotti, and I was the Don of the Italian mafia. Father only passed it down to me because he was aging and had no male heirs, which was quite unfortunate for the bastard. 

He didn't even have any illegitimate sons even though he fucked different whores day in and day out. He hated watching me take over his mafia, making it mine, making the power mine, but I never asked for this life. 

Sadly, I grew up as an only child being raised by maids and nannies. Father was far too busy and he was disgusted by me anyway. 

The phrase "You killed your mother" was something I heard every single day of my life. Mother, my beautiful mother died during childbirth. I didn't mean to kill her, I didn't ask to be born. So there he was, my cruel wicked father, who forced Mother into marrying him. 

I knew he definitely forced her because she couldn't have been in love with him. The maids often told me what a beauty mother was, how wildly spirited she was, and how father broke her piece by piece. In a way, I was glad that she was not here. She broke free and I was still here. 

So here I sat, thinking of a way out. Running away was impossible. If I were to run away, my whole life would be false. I was born to be a Don. The power ran in my veins. 

Besides, Father would hunt me down and no doubt have someone kill me while I slept. Perhaps I could kill the bastard. But if someone found out, I would be screwed over. 

I was only twenty-three years old and he had offered my hand in marriage without even asking me. I knew he would have never even asked. 

The thought had never crossed my mind. Perhaps a couple of times when I was a young girl. But I always imagined marrying a prince, not the boss of the American Mafia. 

The American Mafia was well known for its reputation for being manipulative and brutal. They were deadly, even I was impressed. The mafia boss I didn't know much about, only his name. 

I was to be wedded to Eric Connall. The roles of women in Mafias were very traditional. They were to obey and serve. 

If Father thought that uniting our Mafias through marriage would mean I'd give up my mafia to Eric, he had got another thing coming. 

And if the fucking Eric Connall expected me to obey and serve him, I'd gladly cut out his fucking heart and shove it down his throat. 

Father, as he put it, gave me away to form an alliance with the American mafia. To ensure peace between our mafia and theirs. No one wanted a war. It was a strategic move and nothing more. 

"Cara!" I yelled. 

Not a moment later a pretty blonde entered my bedroom. Cara was my best friend and one of my many guards. She was highly intelligent and a skilled killer. I wanted a woman to be my personal guard mainly to overthrow the patriarchal system in the mafia. 

“Cara, I need you to call a maid to pack my things ready for tomorrow," I said as I stared down at my hand. 

Dried blood coated my fingertips as the cut on my palm still bled. The pain didn't bother me. I had suffered worse and survived. 

Cara nodded and walked over to me. She sighed, kneeling beside me. She gently held my hand in hers as she prodded the knife from my grip. 

"Let's get you cleaned up." She smiled warmly. 

She didn't ask what happened because she knew. I watched her bandage my hand gently and very neatly. 

I felt numb, cold, and alone as I sipped scotch from a clear crystal glass in hopes that it would make me feel warm inside but it never did. My hand throbbed almost as much as the headache I had now acquired. 

"Your father still wants you to marry?" Cara asked as she took a seat on the edge of my bed, crossing her legs. 

She knew that I had practically begged him to stop this marriage, and she knew how he just laughed at me, telling me to fuck off. 

"Yes." 

I walked over to my balcony windows and looked up into the night sky. Stars glimmered and shone, with a shooting star falling, and I wished for happiness. 

I had argued with father to no avail. It was a done deal. I ran a finger down my cheek where Father slapped me last. I may not have been bruised but I'd always remember. 

I closed my eyes as I wished for his death over and over again. If only I could do it and free myself but that was another predicament. If I killed him, my mafia would turn on me. I'd be shunned and disowned. After all, there was no crime greater than killing your own blood. 

I turned back to face Cara. Her brown eyes held so much pity for me. I didn't like that one bit, but I appreciated her so much. "I just want to be alone right now," I said, my voice laced with sadness. 

She lowered her eyes to the ground, then walked over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder to reassure me. There was nothing more she could say or do. I felt her fingers lightly squeeze my shoulder before she left my room, closing the door behind her. 

I wasn't alone for long as a maid came by to pack my things. I drank some more scotch while I watched her scramble to pack my clothes. 

"Don't fucking pack my lingerie. Are you insane? Do you think I'm just going to fuck him?" I growled and the maid flinched when I spoke. 

I knew I was being too harsh, but I was fucking angry. What if he was old or a disgusting womanizer? What if he beat women? I'd never let him touch me. 

I shook my head of those thoughts when I received an incoming call. 

"Yes, I'll be there in ten minutes," I spoke into the phone to one of my guards who was taking care of a little problem. It seemed as though if you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself. 

I sighed and pulled on a black hoodie over my crop top and jeans. I changed out of my heeled boots and into sneakers because things were about to get messy. I left the maid in my room and headed outside. 

I climbed into my favorite red Lamborghini as I looked at the setting sun through the tinted windows. Hues of red, amber, and yellow blended into each other, and they made a pretty picture. Cara promptly took a seat beside me and strapped herself in. 

I knew I had to leave tonight to make it in time to reach America tomorrow to see that man. But that was the luxury of owning my own plane; I could leave whenever I wanted to. 

I turned on the ignition to the car and felt the thrilling purr of the engine. I pushed my foot down and drove the car to my destination. Perhaps this was as free as I'd ever felt. 

I cruised down small streets and along long ams empty roads. I was breaking every law yet I evaded justice. I was the law in Italy. 

Upon arriving at a desolate warehouse, I exited my car. My dark mid-back length hair fluttered across my face as I had failed to tie it into a ponytail. 

As I walked towards the building, I was immediately let inside and some guards even bowed their heads. Respect was earned, never given. And I had earned everything I worked for. 

The room I was led to was small and damp. The place reeked of a metallic odor. A blend of blood and bleach was almost enough to make one gag. I smirked when I saw a man tied up on a metal chair. He was a fucking rat. 

"I absolutely despise snitches because we all know they are nothing but bitches," I said but the man didn't dare to look into my eyes. "And you know what they say, snitches end up in ditches. But that's not how I run things. You see in my book, stealing is punishable by death, killing is punishable by death, and snitching is punishable by… You guessed it, death." I grinned evilly. 

I chuckled darkly as I turned my back to the man. "Even if you simply annoy the fuck out of me, I'd kill you." 

I faced the man who remained mute. He was bloodied and beaten as I had requested. And yet he gave nothing away. 

I wanted to know who he snitched about my business affairs to because the worst thing any Mafia could have were reckless immature snitches who ran off to the police or sold out secrets to the highest bidders. 

The police were in my pockets, but that didn't mean they wouldn't bring me down if they had a chance to. 

I knew for a fact that they were building a case against me. I let them because it amused me a great deal. How could they think they could even touch me? How could they think they could bring me down? No one could fucking bring me down. 

"So you won't talk? I have no use for you," I stated as I pulled out my knife from my pocket. 

The ugly middle-aged man seemed to have awoken from his muted trance as tried to pull at his bonds. You bitch! he yelled in Italian. 

I gasped as I held a hand to my heart. "You hear that, Cara, he called me a bitch. Me, a bitch. Never." I smirked as I approached the man. In an instant, I had pushed the knife deeply across his throat in a single straight line. 

Blood spluttered out as it sprayed onto me. I watched as it took exactly five seconds for the man to choke on his own blood and surrender to death. 

That was a really nasty way to go but it was necessary nevertheless. I couldn't be lenient because once I did, everyone would know me as a soft touch. And they would walk all over me like a doormat. I had already had it tough, being a woman as I was. 

I pulled out my phone from my pocket and checked the time. I suppose I'd better go. Father would be waiting for me and God forbid if I ran late. A guard handed me a towel and I wiped my hands and some of the blood that stained my face. 

The mess here would be cleaned up and sorted in the blink of an eye. The body would vanish, and the blood washed away. The snitch would be wiped from existence. 

After driving to my plane, I shrugged off my hoodie and tossed it to the ground. I walked up the few steps onto the plane. My body stiffened at the sight of Father who was already seated inside. 

Father noticed me and scowled, but it was a look I had grown accustomed to. "My my, Sienna, you look like shit. I don't know how I got you married off," he rasped, chuckling at his own joke. 

I clenched my teeth and sat on the furthest seat away from him even though the plane was spacious. I wanted to take this time to sleep but Father had other plans. His stare never left me as he continued talking. 

"You'll have to dress better than that once we go to meet the Americans," he prattled, pulling a loose thread from his brown suit. 

I placed my head in my hand because I wanted to take the edge off father's incessant whining. 

“Whatever you do, do not disrespect the Americans. If your husband… What's his name? Eric. What a stupid name. If he wants to have his way with you, you let him. Do you understand me?" he grunted awaiting an answer from me. 

I hated talking back to him, and I hated being in the same space as him, but I nodded my head falsely. Did Father really not care about me? That he would allow his only daughter to be sold off, uncaring for whose hands I would be in. 

I scoffed to myself because I knew the truth. If he hated me so much, he should have just killed me. Because I would kill him one day. And that day was coming soon. 

Father leaped up from his seat and took a few menacing steps toward me. My stare did not waver from him. I knew what he was about to do but I still flinched when he grabbed my wrist roughly. 

"Do you understand?" he growled as I tried to avoid inhaling his putrid breath. 

"Yes, Father," I said through clenched teeth. I could poison him. But someone would know, they'd always know. 

"Good," he said as he let go of my wrist and walked back to his seat. I breathed out slowly as I looked away from him.

*** 

After a long agonizingly long flight, we finally reached our destination. I couldn't sleep because he was there so I was tired as fuck. We got booked into a hotel and I collapsed onto the bed, feeling more love from the soft sheets than I ever would from my own father.