PRINCESS

I

Cutlery hitting plates were the only audible sounds I could hear in the large room. But I specifically strained my ears to hear movements from one particular person - Giovanni Morelli.

My father and Don of the Italian Mafia.

My spine was straightened rigidly and I tried not to slouch as I shoved a piece of broccoli inside my mouth. I chewed slowly, carefully trying to keep all expressions from my face as my teeth ground the vegetable. I didn't know what I did this time, but the moment I uncovered my food, all I could see were vegetables which were quite different from the fried rice others were having.

I kept my discomfort from my face, emotions were a sign of weakness, and the worst mistake one could do was show a sign in front of my father.

My eyes traveled to his ring-clad fingers when they clinked with the glass of red wine he downed into his throat. He took a deep breath and dropped his fork, then his eyes shifted to mine as he spoke,

"Enzo." He merely said, cutting off any eye contact he shared with me,

The stocky man who sat next to my father took a sip of his icy water, leaving imprints of his fingers on the frosted glass. I watched the glass with focus, anything was better than accidentally looking at my father and one of his men…or worse, my mother.

To be fair, she wasn't actively involving herself in the conversation. Her dark purple hair stood starkly against her pale…everything. Her once vibrant cherry-coloured lips now matched her skin and her eyes now bore the colour. As usual, she looked high.

The last time I saw my mother sober was my seventeenth birthday, and currently, I was twenty. So yes, it has been a while. Still, it was mandatory to attend family events. Giovanni ruled his mafia empire with a strict hand, so I wasn't exactly surprised when she did something out of control.

Everyone wishes for freedom at least once in their lifetime.

"-barrels and they were delivered." My uncle and my father's right-hand man, Enzo, finished saying,

My father looked at him squarely and continued eating like nothing happened. But we were used to the process, I was just happy that the lashing wasn't directed at me this time.

"And the machinery?" machinery was another word for the guns they transported, and there. There it was.

"Well, I-" Enzo stuttered,

I shoved more vegetables into my mouth and cringed at the taste once more. But I was so nervous that if I didn't do anything with my hands, they were going to start fidgeting.

"You what?" He wiped his mouth with the napkin and turned around to face Enzo,

"We ran into some trouble…" he drew on,

"I asked you to take care of it! Didn't I?" His voice rose higher with each syllable,

"We did, I-i mean we tried to, but Sasha Sov-" I heard the sound before I saw it, I closed my eyes, scared to turn around and look at the damage, when I finally summoned up the courage…I guessed right, his wineglass was in pieces against the wall,

If there was one rule we couldn't afford to forget in this house, it was that the Russian Mafia was our enemy. Apparently, Enzo thought he was powerful enough to mention them, especially him.

Sasha Sovetsky was psychopathic and inhumane in every way. From a young age, he had been killing men who had worked their way up the ladder for no reason at all. I hated him.

But I was sure my father loathed him more…it all began when Dmitriy Sovetsky got sick and it was widely believed that the Russian empire was going down because his first son, Miroslav Sovetsky, refused to come out of hiding. That had been one of the mafia world's best moments yet. But then his second son, Sasha, who was a teenager at the time of his father's death decided that it wasn't over till he deemed it so. And he never failed to remind people that he was still around.

The thing was that, I bore the brunt of it, my family bore the consequences that came with Sasha ruining everything. I suffered the repercussions of my father's wrath when he was in one of his moods and Sasha got to have a field day over his rage. He made my pain worse and I hated him for it.

"Fifty of my men were on that ship, and you couldn't take out a little boy?" His voice reverberated through the house,

"We took one of his pistols and we thought that was it, but many of the men were stabbed with poison. I don't know how he did it, I-"

Thwack!

I flinched the moment my eyes settled on my uncle's face, red marks highlighting the part where my father's gold rings had collided with. Enzo stood up, eye to eye with my father as they both panted heavily.

"I made you my right-hand man for a reason, and if you can't perform your duties when I am absent then I should reconsider my choices."

My mother let out a groan and slumped back in her chair with her eyes closed.

"Get her out of here." Giovanni gritted his teeth and almost immediately, two guards were at her side and they helped her leave the hall.

"Let this be the last time you report to me that a little boy outsmarted you." His Italian accent became more pronounced with each word,

"If not, you will buy your own casket." My uncle's Adam's apple bobbed up and down in his throat, but apart from that, he made no other physical movements,

"Leave." He ordered,

Enzo stared at him unflinchingly for a while before walking out of the room with his head held high. I shuddered and tried not to make any movements that would draw his attention to me.

He took his glass of water and perused it for a split second, then, like after a moment of a quick decision, he smashed the object on the wall. I visibly recoiled and sunk deeper into my seat.

Thankfully, he stood up and walked out of the dining hall, his anger rolling off in waves after him.