I clasped the delicate lace of my bridal gown so tightly that my knuckles turned an ashen white. The pristine fabric, meant to symbolize purity and new beginnings, now enshrouded me like a funerary veil, suffocating the remnants of my former freedom...
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"Keys, phone, wallet," I recited, rifling through my handbag like a woman possessed.
And just when I thought I had everything, my hand brushed against the cold steel of my gun.
A grimace instantly twisted my features.
God, how I despised guns.
Just the feel of the cold steel was enough to give me the shivers, let alone the implications that came with carrying it around. But I didn't have the luxury of leaving my protection at home. I was Yasenia Moreno after all - the only child of Spain's most powerful Mafia Don.
I grew up in Madrid, in the throbbing heart of my father's empire. It was a world cloaked in danger, and deceit. You always had to be on your guard. Always.
But Manhattan? Manhattan was different.
New York held none of my father's menacing shadows, no suffocating expectation of who Yasenia Moreno should be. Here, I could toss the name Moreno into the wind and be just Yasenia - just a simple girl who loved books enough to own a little bookstore nestled within the cozy lanes of 7th Street.
New York, for me, was liberation.
Growing up with the kind of lifestyle that I did, I had become remarkably attuned to the sense of being followed, even in a crowd. But it had been more than three years since I left that life behind and moved to New York to start anew. So, when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, I knew something was off.
My instincts kicked in and I spun around, my eyes landing on the same black SUV that had been shadowing me for days. My spine turned to ice and my heart thudded erratically. I couldn't shake the feeling that whoever was in that car meant trouble.
Without missing a beat, I placed my hand on my purse, feeling the familiar weight of my gun inside.
I had no idea who was in that car, but I was willing to find out. The second the SUV pulled up in front of my bookstore, I took a deep breath and marched straight towards it.
"Excuse me, sir! Why are you following me?" I shouted at the man behind the wheel, completely disregarding the risk he could pose.
But the man's eyes darted around nervously as he stumbled over his words.
"Did my father send you?" I questioned, the possibility finally hit me.
Avoiding eye contact, he mumbled a response, but suddenly, his phone rang. With the sudden shift in his attention, I took the opportunity to snatch his phone.
"Papá, is that you?" I blurted into the phone, dread building within me.
"Hola mi princesita, (hello my little princess)" my father's warm and loving voice drifted through the line, momentarily easing my fears.
Those words froze me in place. Although I had been expecting this moment, reality hit differently.
"Papa, how many times do I have to say it? Please stop following me! I don't need your men creeping into every aspect of my life. I'm doing just fine without all that chaos!"
