The Mafia Contract Series

Jasmine

Daphne is looking at me with horror, telling me it’s worked at least. “Dad is going to kill you.”

Her eyes are wide and her skin pale, and I try not to see the tears building in her eyes.

“Then he would be doing me a favor.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I mean every word.”

Daphne tries to plead with me, but we both know it’s falling on deaf ears.

“Please, Jas, if you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me.”

“That’s not fair.”

“And you think he is.” Her bitterness hurts me way more than her words because she’s probably right. He will take it out on me by hurting her.

“But I can’t…” Her soft hand reaches out and grasps mine in a show of comfort only she can ever give me, and I swallow hard as she says sympathetically. “Why do you make it so hard on yourself, honey?”

“Because it’s all I’ve got left.”

“Girls!”

Daphne’s eyes are wide as she hisses. “Mom. She can’t see you like this.”

“What do you suggest because I don’t think there’s a secret passage around here like in the movies? I’m just going to have to deal with it.”

The gentle clicks of my mother’s heels stop outside the door and my heart flutters with a mixture of fear and excitement. What will she do?

Daphne moves to my side in a final act of solidarity and my heart swells with love for the only person who only has my best interests at heart. Daphne Rossi. My younger sister and best friend.

Petite and dazzling; a rare beauty inside and out. The perfect daughter and the perfect human being. A rose among thorns and my parent’s biggest success. Me, not so much. The thorn in their side more like and as the door opens, I prepare myself for yet another battle that, undoubtedly, I will not win.

“Jasmine!” Her sharp intake of breath makes my heart thump as she regards me through horrified eyes.

“What have you done?”

“Do you like it?”

“No, of course I don’t.”

My hand instinctively flies to the lavender hair that I’m now the proud bearer of. My own blonde curls are gone and replaced with a straightened act of defiance. The perfect daughter engaged in a final desperate act of rebellion because I will not go down without a fight.

The combat trousers and torn khaki top demonstrate my need to do battle, and I’m guessing she’s wondering where I got them from. Luckily, the vintage store in town has an endless supply of unsuitable outfits and I spare a thought for the person who wore this one before me. Whoever they were, they were lucky. They were probably free and able to make their own choices. Me not so much.

“This is a disaster. What will he think?”

“I’m not sure who the ‘he’ is in this conversation, but I’m guessing it’s the visitor currently awaiting my arrival in the company of my father.

I stare at my mother with an attitude of couldn’t give a fuck and her pursed lips indicate I’m in for a tough time.

“Change at once. You still have time.”

“No. I’m good, thanks.”

Blowing a bubble with the gum in my mouth, I face her off and try not to let my nerves show in my face. I need to stand up for myself because I won’t allow them to ruin my life. I want them to disown me, cast me out, and set me free. That’s the plan at least, but I’ll doubt I’ll make it past the front step.

Marry or die. I’ll take the second option because the thought of the fate that lies in store for me makes living the least attractive option right now.

Mom snaps, “Daphne, fetch the dress I selected and help me.”

I think I’m more surprised than my mother when a shaky voice whispers, “No.”

We both stare at my meek, mild-mannered sister in shock as she says with tears in her eyes, “I won’t hurt my sister.”

Mom recovers before I do and steps forward and slaps her hard across the face, causing me to spring forward and block her from a repeat performance. “Stop!”

She pushes me roughly and as I stumble back, she snarls, “I will do worse unless you do as I say.

Now, for your sister’s sake, go and change or she will suffer your punishment.”

I am beaten by a pro because Daphne is my Achilles heel and without another word, I turn and head across to my closet, wrenching the torn top from my body in a humiliated act of defeat.

The silence follows me as my mom and sister watch my walk of shame and as I pluck the smart Chanel dress from the hanger, my fingers tremble as I do what I’m told and by the time my heavy boots have been replaced by one of Jimmy Choo’s creations, I feel defeated. I’m not sure why I ever thought differently. I was never going to get away with it, but as I glimpse at my reflection in the mirror, a small smile tugs at my lips. There’s nothing they can do about my hair, though. At least I have a small victory to enjoy.

Heading back into the room, I hate seeing the tears glistening on my sister’s cheeks and the purple bruise forming across them. Making a fist, I long to return the favor on my mother’s heavily botoxed face and briefly wonder if it would shatter it. The thought amuses me as I imagine her breaking apart like a destroyed statue because I’m pretty certain there’s nothing left of her natural features, anyway.

Alana Rossi. Mobsters’ wife. Elegant, pampered, and the perfect showpiece. Riddled with cosmetic surgery in a bid to stay current. Defying her age and prolonging her life because she has played this game longer than most and I expect it’s because she does everything my father tells her to.This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

Franco Rossi, mafia boss and the most hated man alive, by me. Cruel, arrogant, and despicable. A domestic abuser who thinks nothing of using his fists to make a point. If anything good will come out of this, it’s that I will no longer be under this roof, but the problem remains. I’ll have just swapped one abuser for another.

Angelo Sontauro. The new kid on the block. Newly crowned mafia Don setting up his empire after his father was murdered by an unknown assassin in the grounds of his own home. Nobody knows who did it, but it has made the world we live in uneasy. They don’t like surprises, and I know this has stirred up a shitload of trouble.

“You’ll have to do.” Mom’s voice grates against my last nerve. “God knows what your father will do when he sees your hair. You stupid girl.”

Daphne’s small smile makes it worse as she tries to send me all the bravery I need because today I meet my fate and it’s in the form of the newest dark lord on the circuit.

“Follow me. He’s waiting.”

Mom heads to the door and I throw one last anguished look at my sister, who stands rooted to the spot as she watches helplessly. My heart feels like lead as I throw her a wink at my last shot of showing I’ve got this.

As I follow my mother down the soulless hallway toward the grand staircase, I briefly consider throwing myself down it. I’d be damaged, dead even. Surely that’s better than the life stretching out before me like a ticking time bomb.

We walk in silence. Only the clicks of our heels on the polished marble surface gives any indication there is life in this house and as we approach the room where they lie waiting, I leave emotion at the door. Fuck them all and be careful what you wish for because Angelo Sontauro has just demanded something he may want to return to sender, and that’s fine by me.