Mafia's Bride

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This book contains mature themes, strong language, and adult scenes. Read at your own discretion!

The writing will will gradually get better, I promise. This was my first book and in being so I learned as I went and I am truly proud of how much my writing improved by the end.

The chapters get much longer after this one, usually around 3000-5000 words. Sometimes more!

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A new cover was made for the story by TheStoryWriterWrites !!! You should check out them out, they did an amazing job!
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"Layla, get your ass down here. Dad wants to see you in his study." Giovanni called from downstairs.

Once I hear my brother calling for me I know to hurry and see what my father wants. Lord knows that my father doesn't like to be left waiting. Punctuality and obedience were two of my fathers favorite lessons when we were kids.

Makes sense, after I ended up finding out my father's real occupation around the age of ten or so. Learning that kind of thing changes you. For better or worse? Who's to say?

I jump up from my bed and run down the staircase. I'm sprinting so fast, that I fear I may tumble and fall face first on the hardwood. On my way down the hall that leads to my father's study, I pass Mia. She glares at me and whispers "good luck."

My sister and I have a...interesting relationship to say the least. She is kind of bitch, which in turn makes me a bitch back. But I guess that is what siblings do, fight and make fun of each other. Mafia families are the same as everyone else in that way.

I give her a confused face, but she pays no mind and continues to walk up the stairs without giving me a second glance. I roll my eyes to her spoiled princess act, my parents always let her get away with the most shit.

I don't know why she felt the need to say that to me, but it doesn't really matter either way. She loves to find ways to tease me and I will ignore it like always.

Finally stopping the glare towards my sister, I realize that my father has been waiting for me. I curse myself for being distracted and make my way to my father's study.

I knock on the door twice, sharp and precise, just like I have always been taught. I hear a faint "Enter." I open the door and see my father sitting at his desk and my mother's hair facing away from me in the chair across from him.

"Mother, father, you wanted to speak with me?" I look right at my father and after several moments he finally looks up from his computer and speaks to me, seemingly already disinterested in this conversation.

"Sit down child." He speaks while staring right at me. I quickly look to the ground and walk over to the chair placed next to my mother. I look at her through the corner of my eye and see that she looks distraught, but I can't put my finger on why. I suppose that is why I was summoned.

Usually no one enters my father's office besides the men that are coming in and out of the house. They were always loaded and scary looking. Intimidation is something my father thrives in.

Father always took charge of the disciplining and the majority of the decision making for us kids. Not that my mom was never there, but in our particular family, it's customary to be that way.

Father was the parent we steered clear of most days. He was off running the business aspect of things, as well as taking care of his men.

Mother stayed home with us, raising us to the best of her ability. Growing up took both sides of the spectrum. We had the loving mother and then the disciplinary father when those few occasions occurred.