The Art Of Seduction - A Mafia Book [18+]

Chapter 28

Rosa's POV

I run my fingers through the persistent tangles of my hair, trying to smooth them over but the effect of bleach on my hair was starting to reveal itself. One would say I ruined my hair by dying them blonde but I would say that I just improved my overall look. Blonde suited me more than brown ever would.

Distant eyes stared back at me in the mirror. Bluish-green eyes, blonde hair, olive skin and cheeks slightly more hollow than before, I was still myself. I looked the same as I ever did yet my feelings... they were different. There were two personalities clashing within me, creating a bloody warzone, the battle cries a dull sound within my head that kept me from thinking clearly.

Productiveness had left my dictionary as I fell face-first and ass up high in the air on my sofa, a muffled groan rumbling in my throat.

Wrapping my head around the fact that Alvaro was my father was difficult, needless to say. But what was even more difficult than that was the fact that something like this stayed hidden from me for years and months -in the case of Vince- when I was probably the first person who was supposed to know about this. Not Vince. Not Dante. No one.

Mama had no intention of telling me anything about this ever which made her case even worse. On the other hand, at least Vince had the intention of telling me about this. My reaction towards him could have been less hostile if he had sped up in collecting his guts to tell me the truth he knew for so long. Was it right for me to compare my mother with Vince? I didn't know.

I didn't know anything at this point. Alvaro's blood ran through my veins but he was never there as I was being brought up. It confused me whether I was a person like him or the wonderful man I originally knew as my one and only father. Is this what you call an identity crisis?

Biologically speaking, some part of me would be similar to Alvaro and that disgusted me to my core. Having no father was better than having Alvaro as my father who had made it very clear that he wanted me dead. Six feet deep within the ground, inside a coffin that's locked with silver chains to keep me from crawling back out, which is highly unlikely but my brain these days tends to overthink to a supernatural level.

My eyes darted towards my phone that sat atop the coffee table in my living room. A little more than a week had passed in which I hadn't spoken to my mother or Vince. No, instead, I remained locked up in my penthouse like a coward, too afraid and angry to speak to anyone. Lia tried calling me but I ignored it. Vince called me. My mother called me. I answered to no one.

The chances of me losing my temper were high and the last thing I wanted to do was make things worse for myself.

In the past silent week, I had grown more calmer, tried to bring things more into perspective and thought over how I was going to move forward from this. What was the next thing I was supposed to do now?

It was obvious. Talk. Communicate. I couldn't block people out forever. There were more questions that I needed answered which was why I grabbed my phone off the coffee table and called my mother.

She answered almost instantaneously as if she was waiting by the phone for my call.

"Mija." Her familiar voice sounded through the phone and I attempted to keep my emotions in check. They begged to sprial out of control. Tears threatened to flood my eyes and my vocal cords seemed like they were about to burst as I tried to keep my voice stable.

"Mama." I answered curtly.

"¿Cómo estás?" (How are you?) She questioned quietly. While I struggled to keep my voice low, it seemed like she was struggling to speak out.