War of A Rose

War of A Rose • Chapter 1

A/N PLEASE READ
Hello! First off, I would like to start this off by saying I am so excited about this journey! I have been working on this book for quite some time, and I cannot wait to hear feedback from my readers. I would also like to disclaim that this book is rated Mature. It is a dark romance meaning that it is only recommended to suitable audiences. Preferably for an audience of +18.

This book contains themes of sexual references, strong language, violence + gore, sexual violence + verbal + emotional abuse, and alcohol + drug use. There are big triggers such as, cnc, breath-play, degradation, and non con sexual abuse.

This is a dark mafia romance.

That said, this is for all my girlies who would pick the dark, troubled & way beyond morally grey men over the sweet & doting gentlemen.

And remember, you are not your thoughts.
But let's say you are. You are still worth everything.

••••

Rosaelia

"I've told you countless times, it's not going to happen." I glared at the rough man across from me, his attention locked on the file in front of him. His third cigar of the morning smoldered between his fingers, the air thick with smoke as he casually flipped through papers on his desk. If I had caught him when he wasn't so consumed by work, he'd be laughing in my face—a laugh that never carried a trace of humor, just like every time my father has done before.
"Yes, it will," I spat back, gritting my teeth. If anyone else had dared to talk to my father the way I did, they'd be six feet under with a bullet lodged in their skull. Anyone but my mother and me, of course. Even then, there were limits, and usually, I didn't have to cross mine. But my father has controlled enough of my life, and I'm ready to test the boundaries if it means getting a taste of freedom.
"You aren't ready," he challenged, eyes never lifting from his work.
"Leave me now. I have work to complete. I do not have time for your insipid thoughts." His words barreled into me, sharp and cold, just like they always did. It still hurt to have my father regard me as nothing, all because I am a woman. I stared back, tempted to swipe the papers off his desk—maybe then he'd actually look at me—but even I knew that would be a stupid move.
This is getting ridiculous. I know I'm ready for responsibilities, ready to carry on his empire. My mother knows it, even if she publicly sides with her husband. Fuck, even some of my father's men can see it. And I know, deep down, whether he admits it or not, my father knows it too.
He may be my blood, but there were limits with him that no one crossed. I've pushed him plenty today; one more word and he'd be set off, and I didn't feel like being the target of his wrath, not today anyway. Pushing back my chair, I stood, sneering at him before heading for the door.
"I am ready." The whisper barely escaped my lips, but I knew we both heard it. I am ready, and it's going to happen.

Four years later

"I don't give a shit if you're ready or not. You're going, and you're going now, or you'll have this bullet between your eyes." I lifted the gun, its black barrel catching the light that seeped through the gaps in the blinds of my office. I flicked my eyes to the back of the room where four of my men stood, waiting impatiently for the young man before me. Calling him a 'man' was generous—this sorry excuse was more of a coward, and if he didn't get his ass out of my office in the next two seconds, he'd be a dead one.
His gaze locked on my gun. I glanced down at it too, then shifted my eyes back to him, calm and unbothered.
"Understand?" I kept my voice low, icy, unruffled by the situation. Despite my tone, the guy in front of me shook like a leaf. He was just an associate, never cut out to be a made member. I had no doubt he'd fold at the first sign of real pressure.
If he couldn't handle something as basic as extortion, there was no place for him with the Romanos.
"Yes."
"Leave me." I flicked my hand, and he scurried off. Three of the men at the back followed him, leaving one behind.
Once the door clicked shut, I sighed. My best man stood by, waiting for my command. "Watch him," I said, a touch of annoyance seeping into my voice.
Something told me this idiot was going to fuck us over, and I couldn't let that happen. Not only would it cost us money, but I'd have to clean up his mess before my father found out. If I didn't take care of it, my father would—brutally and slowly, in ways even I wouldn't dream of. So, for his sake and mine, I hoped this would go smoothly.
Gabriele nodded, a swift, tight smile pulling at his lips. "Better not let them see that you care," he joked before leaving to follow the rest of the men.
I do care. I always have. But I can't have cowards in the family. Cowards don't think ahead, and when they do, they only think of themselves. If things went south, I'd rather lose one man than multiple. No matter the life I chose, I hate losing my people.
My father likes to brag that he never loses anyone, but in reality, he's the one killing them, as if it's sport. I wouldn't kill my men for minor fuck-ups—only for betrayal, a breach of the code they swore to uphold. Don't mistake my distaste for losing men as a weakness. Just because I hate spilling my family's blood doesn't mean I won't do it. It just makes it that much harder to clean up. Death is part of this life, family or not. Betraying your own is the worst crime when your entire existence is built on loyalty.
My family knows I care. They know I'd protect them with my last breath, just as they'd do for me. But I can't go around sacrificing myself for my men. I'll provide for them, support them, but I also have a title to protect—power to wield. As my father's only child, it's my birthright to lead his empire.
My eyes drift to the letter on my desk, my name, Rosaelia, scrawled in red ink. My father's face flashed through my mind, his voice a constant reminder that I would never be Don of our family.
"Mattia!" I called to the man stationed outside my office. He entered without hesitation, his hand casually resting on the gun at his hip. Even after all these years, his towering height still threw me off. His sharp eyes scanned the room for any threats before settling on me.
I grabbed the envelope and tossed it effortlessly into the trash bin. "Send word to my father that I will not attend next week."
Technically, I still worked under my father, and I would until he took his last breath. Even then, he'd probably leave everything to Gabriele—especially his title. It didn't matter that I was his daughter; I was a woman, and God forbid a woman runs the family.
If I have to die for this, I will. My whole life has been about preparing for my birthright, and I would give everything to claim it. My father spent his life making sure that would never happen. He kept me locked up in our family estate, watching from the sidelines while he groomed Gabriele for a throne meant for me.
When I turned twenty, I begged him for months to let me at least shadow my cousin. He laughed in my face every single time, until one day he didn't. His mind changed, and for the first time, I was allowed to leave. He let me move to New York City to run things under Gabriele's supervision. It was insulting to be placed beneath him, but I was grateful for the chance.
Gabriele isn't my father's son by blood, but my father constantly reminds me he wishes he was. Despite his efforts to pit us against each other, Gabriele is my best friend, the only one I truly trust aside from my mother. He's the best of my men, and I'd die for him as his cousin. As his boss, he knows that if he ever crossed our family, he'd face the same fate as anyone else. That's just how it works in our world.
If I ever crossed my father, I had no doubt he'd empty his gun into me without a second thought. Maybe he loves me somewhere in that blackened heart of his, but he loves this life more.
Mattia left the room, leaving me to look through my files. After what felt like hours, I landed on a file that had a picture of a young woman attached. I reached for my lamp, clicking the knob until the room was bright enough for me to see her face clearly. She was beautiful with long blonde hair and big brown eyes that reminded me of a doe. I read through the notes attached, learning that she was being sold by the Borsotti family, one of our lesser allies.
I had been searching for a new baiter for weeks after we lost Kena, one of our best. My stomach turned at her name. She wasn't supposed to die but my men couldn't get to her in time. It wasn't uncommon for our women to get hurt on the job, their targets were killers, thieves, it was only natural that they did get roughed up a bit, but to die, that had never happened before. Not under me, anyway. And I would never forgive myself for her death. But this life never stopped. We kept moving even when our own did not. There wasn't time for grieving in this world. Death owned us. The second we took that oath, swearing ourselves to each other, to this world, we ended our own lives. It was only a matter of time before death came to collect the price.
"Lia?" The deep voice of my cousin pulled me from my thoughts. I look up from the files scattered across my desk. Gabriele's eyebrows shot up as he stepped into my office.
"Did you hear me?"
"No. Sorry."
His eyes flickered down to the open file. "I said, the Morettis are ready to meet with you." Right. I had arranged to meet with them after reading about one of their women. I was going to take her off their hands, but now... My eyes dropped back down to the doe-eyed blonde. The Moretti's woman impressed me, but this woman's picture spoke to me. There was something there. Something in her eyes told me she wasn't as innocent as those doe-eyes made her seem. And I needed to find out what it was. Me making my place in this world was one thing, but others making theirs- that was important too.
"Tell them I changed my mind. Give the Borsottis a call. We're going there." I didn't miss the way his eyes narrowed as I grabbed my coat and headed for the door. Even though we were considered on good terms with them, we hardly ever associated with each other. And it was only like this because my father was too lazy to wipe them out. Instead of taking their business for himself, he made nice with their Don. He gave the excuse that there was no reason to add another enemy to our family. One less person trying to kill him, he said. Not me, not his wife, not even his nephew who he called a son, but himself. If I had been in charge I would have killed their Don the second he stepped onto our territory. Gabriele felt the same way, but he knew better than to question me about this. Instead, he had our driver pull the car around front and road in silence as we made our way to their warehouse.
I couldn't help but feel uneasy as we entered the abandoned building. The upstairs consisted of busted windows and graffiti-covered walls. But downstairs, it was where their women were held. I hesitated before entering the dark dingy room at the bottom of a narrow hallway. Gabriele's hand hovered above my shoulder, silently reassuring me that he was here. Without looking back at him, I swallowed the growing lump in my throat and stepped into the room. Like the rest of the building, the air was cold and damp, smelling of bodily fluids and mold. Huddled in the corner of the room, sat a woman. With the matted and dirty hair, it was hard to picture her as the same wide-eyed blonde the Borsottis advertised. She looked up from her lap, those chocolate eyes flicking between Gabriele and me. Before either of us could say anything to her, she looked at the woman standing beside us, the one who had guided us down here. And although she did not open her mouth, I knew that she was asking her for something. When the woman nodded, I knew that she was asking for permission. She pushed herself off the ground, standing tall before us. A simple white cotton dress hugged her chest, loosening as it reached her hips. Despite the dirty floor, she had been on, and the dark spots in her hair, the dress had been oddly clean.
I turned to the old woman beside me, my voice distasteful, "She doesn't match the advertisement. Quite disappointing if you ask me." The old woman's bushy eyebrows hiked up, a slight gap between her lips as she looked at me.
"You want me to pay half a million for her and you couldn't even bathe her or even brush her hair?" While I was not looking at her, I could feel the young woman's eyes on me. The old hag shifted on her feet, clicking her heels against the concrete floor.
"You called last minute. We already had a buyer lined up. You should consider yourself lucky enough that we even agreed to meet with you." Her tone was snarky as she snapped back, a scowl spreading across her wrinkled face which had been caked with makeup. I wanted to tell her it didn't matter how much she slathered onto her face, no amount would hide the fact that she was an ugly bitch. Instead, I motioned to it and said, "You had enough time to slap all of that on. Was there just not enough for her? Is that it?"
The wrinkles between her brows tightened as she scrunched her face up at me, "Watch how you speak to me, girl."
I took one step closer to her, a scowl of my own on my face, "You should watch the way you speak to me. My father may have offered your Don a sense of security in being business partners, but you... You do not matter. Not to him. Not to me."
She blinked, and I couldn't tell if it was because she was scared or just too dumb to understand the threat I had just thrown in her face. I turned back to the woman who stood cowering in the back of the room.
"Tell your other buyer the deal fell through. She's mine," I said while stepping toward the blonde, "Oh, and you should consider yourself lucky enough that I'm still paying you for her. I could have just taken her." The old woman watched with a baffled expression. Still positioned by the door, my cousin smirked. I stopped in front of the woman, doing my best to soften my expression, "What is your name?" Again, as if asking for permission, she glanced at the woman behind me.
But before she could respond, I cut in, "You look to me now. You don't need anyone's permission to speak."
"Liliana." It was all she said, her voice was quiet, doubtful, her eyes still flickering to the old hag.
I offer her a small smile, "Welcome to the Romano family, Liliana." Placing my hand on her upper arm, I guide her to the door.
"Give them the money," I say to Gabriele as I lead Liliana out of the room. I can't help but look down the hallway lined with rooms. How many other women were locked down here? How many girls? Without questioning it, I turned back to my cousin.
"Give them whatever they want for all of the women down here." And with that, I left the basement with Liliana by my side, uncaring of what might happen when my Father learned of what I just did.
I waited until we were back in my office before I spoke to her again. The car ride was silent, all of us lost in our thoughts. Gabriele had to arrange for transportation for the rest of the women and although he sat quietly beside me, I knew he was fighting himself to keep quiet. What I did was stupid, I would admit that, but I refused to feel guilty for doing it. I know how much freedom means to me. The only thing I've ever wanted was to be in control of my life, why should those women not have the chance?
My office assistant, waited for us as we stepped off of the elevator. The second her eyes landed on Liliana, she practically pounced on her, guiding her to one of the bathrooms to get cleaned up. We had a couple of rooms here, but this was not where our baiters stayed. Most of them had their own apartments, but the ones who did not, live at one of our compounds.
When Stella returned she had a wide smile on her face. I looked over her shoulder as Liliana stepped into the room. Her hair had been washed and dried, now falling in soft waves of sunlight. The cotton dress had been replaced with a peach-colored blouse and nude slacks. A pair of nude heels clicked against the tiled floor as she moved further into the room. Gabriele looked up from his phone just as Liliana stopped in front of me. From the corner of my eye, I watched the way he straightened in his chair. The woman standing in front of me was beautiful, incomparable to the woman I had met this morning. The smile on Stella's face made sense now. She was proud of her work.
"Thanks, Stella." I nodded dismissively before motioning to the chair positioned in front of my desk, "Please have a seat." She did and I followed.
"There aren't enough women in this business," I said propping my elbows on the edge of my desk, "Can you agree?"
Without saying anything, she nods.
"The women who are a part of this society are not respected enough. Do you know why that is?"
"Because men are pigs." I was taken aback by the change in her demeanor as she shot a glare to Gabriele, who sat watching from his spot across the room. He only watched the blonde as she looked back at me. I couldn't help but let out a small laugh. She wasn't wrong.
"Yes, they are. We aren't respected because we haven't had the chance to show them our power or better yet when we do, they don't acknowledge it. They call us weak. Tell us we are not meant to lead. They reduce us to wives and whores, using our bodies to their advantage then regard us as whores for it." I shifted my gaze to my cousin, hoping that he understood that when I spoke about these men, I did not mean him. He was the only reason I was even sitting in this office. He may be a man, but he was not the same as my father or any of the other men in this world.
"You're used to this life by now, no?"
"If I weren't, I wouldn't be sitting here." No, she would be drugged out or dead. That's what happens to the women who can't adjust to this life. You either learn to play the game or you die. You end up on a cycle, and like many things in this life, it can be stopped only by death.
"I've brought you here today because I want to offer you an opportunity. I want to help you take back your life. I want you to work for me as a baiter, and in return, I offer you the security that you will always have a choice. You won't ever have to look to another man again." I said, hoping to get through to her, hoping that she could hear the sincerity in my voice.
She straightened in her seat, leaned forward, and said, "Where do I sign?" Neither Gabriele nor I acknowledged her joke. I sat back in my chair and nodded to my cousin.
"Gabriele will show you to your room." She looked over to where he sat and kept quiet as he stood and headed for the door, not stopping to make sure that she was following him.
As I watched her leave the room, I couldn't help but think of the women who work for my father. When I was a child, I had zero respect for them. To my ears, from the words my father spoke, they were whores, dirty, merely lucky to be considered a man's, let alone his, possession. I remember watching my father's men bring them into our house after a successful job. I remember seeing the slightly or completely torn dresses, broken heels, and smudged red lipstick. The lines of black smeared down their cheeks from wet mascara caused by tears that were supposed to stay captive.
With my childlike mind, I called them cowards for allowing these men to control their bodies as if they were puppets. Only as I got older did I realize who the actual puppets were. These women were able to play their victims like violins. They used their bodies to their advantage. They manipulated men to their deaths. They were not whores. They were women. Our society could regard them however they pleased, but in my family, they are essential. They are strong, even more so than some of the men. My father and other families could oppress them and force them to use their bodies against their will, but I would never do that. It was one of my most important rules. One that all of my men would have to follow. No woman who belonged to my family would work against her will. They are informed of the task beforehand and they decide if they want to take it or not.
I watched Liliana as she took her first step into the family, she had moved through the job effortlessly, like she was born for it. I had no reason to doubt her abilities, but seeing it firsthand solidified my confidence in her. Liliana baited the target exactly as I believed she would, her composure unshaken even when things got tense.
It had been a few weeks since that night, and I'd put her on a few more assignments since then. She took to the work quickly, and by her fourth job, she managed to bait two men in a single evening. The way she maintained her doe-eyed innocence while reeling them in was impressive, and it didn't go unnoticed by Gabriele or me.
We often discussed how fast she was improving, agreeing that there had to be more to her story. The Borsottis didn't have the best track record with training recruits, and their success rate in baiting jobs was far lower than ours. For Liliana to excel this quickly, it made us both wonder about her past and where she truly came from.
While keeping a watchful eye on her, as promised, I set her up in an apartment not far from one of my clubs. To be safe, I stationed one of my men in the area, patrolling day and night to report any signs of trouble.
I wanted to dig deeper into Liliana's history myself, especially since I'd be the one dealing with any traitors, but my father's never-ending letters kept me occupied. Now, he'd even started sending them to Gabriele too.
My father didn't take kindly to being ignored, and neither did I. It was a slight to our honor—his more than mine. Even as his daughter, I was expected to respect him without question. Ignoring the capo wasn't something I could afford to do forever.
"You can't pretend he doesn't exist forever," Gabriele remarked, settling into the leather armchair in the corner of my office.
He wore a white button-up with the top buttons undone, exposing the start of one of his many scars. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, and a faint hint of blood still stained his knuckles.
"Not forever, no."
A white envelope with my father's signature wax seal sat on my desk. I didn't need to open it to know what it said. He wanted me back, not permanently—not yet, at least. He wanted me involved in a "business offer," though we both knew it was an order. A marriage arrangement meant to cement alliances during wartime. My father had picked out a husband for me years ago, a man I'd never even met.
"Rosaelia, you have to face this eventually. This is the life you chose." Gabriele's voice was calm, but his words were sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife.
I met his gaze with a fierce glare. I would never choose another life over this one, but even if I wanted to, there was no escaping it. Being born into this family—especially my family—sealed your fate from the moment you were conceived. There was no other way.
If I ever tried to leave, my father wouldn't hesitate to have me killed, just as we would with anyone else who dared betray us. As I would do if anyone attempted it under my command.
"No one really chooses this, Gabriele."
"There was never a choice."