ZHARA
I sensed him watching before he even spoke. I was sparing with Flynn now, trying to avoid a roundhouse kick to my back when I felt the overwhelming presence.
The power reeked into the room, and I'm sure Flynn could feel it, too.
My movements were solely focused on dodging Flynn's hits, I honestly couldn't try and look over if I wanted. The hair on the back of my neck felt as though it had stood up when I felt his dominating gaze on me, making me self-conscious.
Just the air in the room had shifted when Zion Armani had been anywhere remotely close to the doorway.
I was ducking left and right to avoid hits to the face, and it didn't help that I felt like someone was critiquing me in their mind the entire time.
When Flynn gets a hit to my gut, I stumble back, not enough to lose my footing, but enough to let a grunt of pain out of my system. Snapping straight back into action, I shuffle forward and to the side, avoiding his second attempts to knock me off.
I take his short pause as an attempt to move my balance over to one leg and swing the other around as my back twists in the air, hitting Flynn straight in the side of his ribs.
Not enough to send him flying, though. Flynn grins from the ground as I walk over to him, hands set on my hips proudly. I displayed a hand in front of him to help him up, and that's when his eyes widen as he looks over my shoulder.
I turn immediately, feeling the presence of someone too close for my liking, and snatch at whatever was aimed at my head. A sharp intake of air was heard from Flynn as I trailed my eyes up, feeling a wrist bone under the skin my hand was wrapped around. A fist was equal to my face level as I angled my body around. I immediately dropped my hold on Zion Armani's hand, seeing as when it fell to his side, the fist it was clenched in released. I watch as the once tensed hand flexed under my gaze, his tattoos straining against his tan skin. My brows furrowed as I make eye contact with him, stepping away subconsciously. I try not to let the snarl grow on my face, but it does anyway, and I hope he can see it. His jaw tightened and ticked as I felt my feet hit the cold tile, stepping off the mat.
Something flashes over in his eyes, not guilt, no, never, but not anger, either. Before the man could even try to get another hand near me, I turn my back to them and walk, attempting to leave my confusion behind me.
He was going to hit me? For what?
It didn't make sense. I would've let him hit me if I deserved it, but all I had been doing was training, training for whatever job these idiots would force me to do. There was nothing wrong with that, right?
I grab my water bottle off the bench and try to wipe the dirty look off my face as I walk through the hallway. What did I even do to that guy?
Okay, maybe I did actually do a lot, but I kinda had to. He didn't have to hold me hostage and take away my sheet hammock. I need another one of those, too.
I should probably take a shower before dinner.
As I was passing the living room, I felt something latch onto my legs. When did life-size leeches come out?
The sound of high-pitched laughter flooded through my ears as I stopped in my tracks and looked down at my calf, seeing a grey-eyed little boy staring back up at me. My jaw dropped as I took in the view of a toddler latched onto my leg. A child.
Zion has a motherfucking kid?
I was still staring dumbfounded at the kid when I felt the same feeling on my other leg, and I started to think I was hallucinating. I snapped my head to the side to see an exact copy of the toddler on my other side.
What the fuck.
"Whose vagina did you come out of?" I questioned myself, completely flabbergasted at the sight of children. I don't think I had seen a real-life child this close up in about four years.
"Mine, unfortunately," my head snaps up to the light laughter to the side of us, seeing the girl who looked like Zion from the lunch table. I blink stupidly at the woman before looking down at the toddlers and then back up at her, realizing I am, in fact, very stupid.
"I'm kidding. Sorry about them, their father thought it was smart to give them sugar," she shook her head and pried the boys off my legs, squeals coming from both of them. I was still standing there wide-eyed, trying to find something to say.
"Men," I scoff.
WAS THAT THE BEST YOU COULD COME UP WITH, ZHARA?
Yes. Yes, it was.
The woman laughed and patted the backs of the two boys before standing up straight and letting them run off in another direction. She turned back to me and narrowed her sleep-deprived eyes, and I was sure I was about to get screamed at for unintentionally kidnapping some children.
"Nice eyes," she tilts her chin upward quickly, staring back at my eyes. I furrowed my brows but then recovered from what I didn't expect and shrugged. Flattery, isn't it?
"I could say the same about you," I say, nodding to her stone-colored eyes. She grinned and looked off to the side at the window, then back at me. This woman was taking her time doing whatever she was doing, investigating, observing, studying, I don't know.
"Thanks. I haven't seen you around here, you aren't one of the whores, are you?" she says, whispering the last part and looking around cautiously. I looked down at my apparel and realized I was still in my workout clothes.
Um.
"Nah," I shake my head, looking back at her, "I wouldn't sleep with anyone around here." Honesty, complete honesty. Imagine...Shit, wouldn't that be some sort of treason.
Oh, wait, I forgot. I'm practically disowned now.
She nodded and sighed in relief, still watching me, though.
"So who are you, then?" she tilted her head, not rudely, but out of curiosity. I didn't want to go around flaunting my existence- that not many knew of- and receive another punishment I don't deserve.
"Zhara," was all I said, to which she nodded and looked around. Her piercing gaze went straight back to me when I thought she recognized the name.
"Ah, the new one. Watch out for a few of these men around here. They'll do anything to get you to snap and get you sent to the basement," she says, leaning closer to me. My brows furrow in slight confusion and I quirk my head in her direction, motioning for her to clarify.
"Anything to get my brother to kill you, is what I mean," she slowly blinks, "My name is Adelaide, nice to meet you Zhara," she adds, holding out her hand for me to shake. At least another person on this side didn't want to slit my throat this very second. I eye her hand for a second, and then bring my palm to hers and shake it. Soft hands, well taken care of against my scarred ones. No envy filled my veins, surprisingly, but admiration. Hands of a mother, hard-working and smooth.
"Likewise," I expressed, keeping my face straight as she disconnected our hands, still letting her eyes wander. She was definitely looking for something.
"You aren't planning on getting your brother to kill me, are you?" I interrogated, hole-heartedly, though. She quirked a smirk and shook her head at me.
"I think you and I both know you would already be dead if I wanted you gone," she avowed. I was expecting pride, but all I saw in her similar ash eyes was determination, almost like a promise.
"I should've been dead a long time ago, on many occasions, Adelaide," it's my turn to smirk, and I can tell she knows I'm right. Her hair blew over her shoulder when the breeze from the open doors in the dining room flushed in, hitting my bare arms with a strong bite. I kept my shiver down as Adelaide ran a hand through her highlighted strands.
"Haven't we all," she sighed, looking over to the dining room where the wind is coming from. I looked around, trying to find a clock somewhere. The sun looked like it was going to be setting soon, and I needed to find time to recover from everything that has happened in the past 24 hours.
"What time is it?" I ask, quite abruptly. She looks back over at me and lifts her wrist slightly, checking the diamond-plated Rolex watch with questioning eyes.
"About a quarter 'till six, why?" she asks, lowering her hand to look at me.
"Just wanted to see how much time I had until dinner," I shrug, taking a drink from my water to make myself busy.
"Dinner starts at six-thirty, I would recommend showering," I raise a brow, "no offense, but you look like you got a good workout in," she saves herself, flashing a smile before turning around on her heel.
I study her shrinking figure as I consider the time in my head. I could've sworn I was only in the gym for an hour, but maybe it was longer than that.
Shaking my head at myself, I continue my walk towards the hallway that leads to my room.
I was still quite pissed about whatever Zion thought he was going to do to me. I would shove that in his face later, definitely, and try to figure out why I was about to get punched in the first place. Maybe I'm just the new punching bag for the Italian idiots.
Would be better than living like this.
Twisting the door knob, I pushed the wooden door open and sighed through my nose when the dim room came into view. I shut the door behind me and went straight to the bathroom, taking Adelaide's advice strongly.
~~~
{THIRD PERSON}
Zhara groaned as she struggled to pull up her jeans, hating the thighs that happened to be a plus in her distraction missions. Wondering how she had gotten these skinny jeans up before, she finally yanked them up with enough strength and finished her battle off by buttoning them. Running her clammy palms against the rough blue-denim frabic, she looked into the long mirror in front of her.
A short sliver of her skin was shown above her waist where the hem of the jeans ended, showing off a tattoo she had gotten a while ago. She tugged at the bottom of her cropped black shirt, adjusting the off-the-shoulder sleeves and running her finger tips over the loose threading. Pretty presentable for a dinner, she thought. She ran a hand through her loosely-curled hair and twisted her figure a few times in the mirror.
With a pleased shrug, she adjusted the necklace with her mother's ring looped into the chain and headed towards the door, black pumps clicking against the hardwood floor. She poked her head out from the threshold, looking around the hallway for anyone, something her instincts had instituted.
She was nervous, to say the least.
She hated it, too.
The widely-known assassin didn't want the man who saw her at a weak moment to tease her for it, or hell, bring it up again. So she made a mental note to avoid Inan the entire night and stick by Flynn, or maybe Adelaide if she gained enough confidence.
Walking under the chandelier, Zion spotted the blur of the dark-haired girl as she turned a corner, completely oblivious to the wall lined with his men watching her. His blood heated as it rushed through his veins when he saw each of the individual gazes land on her, more specifically, her body.
She eventually came to her senses as the chandelier she approached hung above the man who tried to hit her earlier and a line of black-clad men. All carrying some sort of weapon, Zhara couldn't keep her smirk in as she passed the lineup.
Zion's jaw ticked and his fists clenched at his side, aching to wrap around her throat and strangle her, stop her breathing, control her life. He heard many of the men snickering to each other after she had walked into the wide-open dining room, obviously giving them a show she wanted to induce.
He would tell her of his proposition in private.
Her eyes relaxed when she saw Flynn sitting in the same spot from earlier, an empty seat beside him. She hurried over and ignored the gazes of the surrounding people, only focused on sitting by her friend.
While sitting down, she immediately felt the difference in Flynn's demeanor. He seemed tense and tight, shoulders upheld and jaw clenched. Zhara only flashed him a small smile, not wanting to annoy him further as she thought.
Flynn couldn't even look his friend in the eye at the moment, knowing what would come after the dinner.
She worried a bit about his actions, but completely forgot about it as the smell of food filled her senses and all the seats were no longer vacant. Just like lunch, everyone had leaned back in their chairs as a few chefs brought out the food and set the trays and dishes on the areas in front of each person.
Zhara thanked the person who placed a dish of Gemelli pasta down in front of her. She was a pasta fanatic and could make a few types from perfect scratch if she tried.
She thankfully remembered the different rules at this house, not having to worry about doing something wrong at the table.
~~~
Rowen slumped down into the seat, a sheer glass of cold whiskey clasped in his hand. His eyes were hooded and tired as they trailed over the office he was residing in, stopping on the spot near the chairs where his sister had been a day ago.
How could so much happen in just a day?
The night had been too long, driving him insane in his own guilt and despair. He wasn't the only one in the Di Maggio residence that was aching for comfort.
He hadn't seen his father since that morning when the idiot had come home to reveal the damage Koven had done. Rowen had no remorse towards his father, no, not anymore. And he wouldn't for a long time.
He knew this whole situation was partly his fault, and it was slowly eating away at his conscience. The little voice in his head, whether influenced by the liquor or his heart, continuously taunted and ranted about what he had done.
He had nothing left.
No amount of alcohol or drugs could heal the empty spot in his soul, something he thought he would never feel.
He stood from the leather chair and set the glass on the desk, discarding it from his mind as he walked towards the door. He hadn't even walked near her room since she had been gone, but something was subconsciously pulling him towards it tonight.
The house he walked through with sorrow seemed empty and quiet, but it had never been this full. Many people from neighboring allies and family gathered in silence in the living room, along with his three unassistable brothers. He turned the familiar corner into the hallway and walked past all the identical doors until he came across one that always stuck out to him. It was just the same as the others, and maybe it didn't really stick out very much until now, but there was always something special about what was behind it. He opened the door with anticipation, hope, and something else buried too deep inside of him.
He was anticipated to see if it had still looked the same from when she had made her escape. He was hoping she was laying down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling while listening to some weird music like she usually did. And for the other thing, well, he didn't want to think about it.
He was right, it was the same. The sheets were spread out across the floor, and clothes from the closet looked thrown about and the balcony doors were wide open, letting in the cool breeze and the moonlight. He did have another sense of hope, a sense that the cool air would refresh him, but all it did was make him shiver as he stepped inside. It pulled at his lungs, threatening to dry out his throat. He wanted it to. At this point, he wanted it to take him away with it when it flowed out of the room, and only repeated the constant draft as he stood near her bed.
Rowen didn't open the special door again.
~~~
After dinner, Zhara decided to go straight to bed. She just didn't have the energy to stay up any longer, and her leg was killing her. She didn't know what she was supposed to do until they needed her for something, it was honestly going to be pretty boring if all she did was sit here because they thought she could come in handy sometimes.
She sat on the bed, facing the window as the white, silk sheets bunched up around her waist and lower body. She encircled her legs as they folded up to her chest with her arms, resting her chin on them.
The moonlight peeked through the glass of the window, casting a soft glow upon herself and the room.
She wondered if she would ever get out of here. Or at least be able to see her family again. The thoughts of not being able to do so made her rethink everything, and her heart ached in her chest.
They all thought she was gone. What if they didn't believe her when she came back? What if she never even came back?
Would they look at her the same? Sure they would, right?
Her overwhelming self-questioning was cut off by the sound of her door swinging open on the hinges. She immediately turned and clenched the sheets in her hands, pulling them over her nightclothes.
Inan Riccardo's jaw tightened as he observed the young girl in front of him, hand still on the recently twisted doorknob. Her eyes, damn, he had never seen something so beautiful and mesmerizing but deadly at the same time.
She was sad. He could see straight through that face. The moonlight tried masking her feelings as it glowed over her light-olive skin, but the way her hands tightened around herself and the sheets revealed too much to him. She was just a girl, barely older than a teenager, she had a right to be scared.
Her look of surprise faded when she recognized him, and something about that settled a sudden appearance inside him.
He let go of the door handle and looked down at his watch, wondering what she was doing trying to go to sleep at...only nine in the evening. He snapped his eyes back up to her when he sensed movement, and she had moved, but only to be sitting on the edge of the bed facing him. Before she could hypnotize him again, he remembered what he was here for.
"Capo wants to see you in his office," he acknowledged, standing up straighter. She noticed.
She narrowed her eyes before nodding and pushing herself up off the bed, only to have to hiss through her teeth when her injured leg attempted to balance her weight. Inan held back the urge to help her, he was encouraged to leave her be after what happened earlier.
Her bandages were presented clearly due to the shorts she was wearing, and the male instincts of Inan himself betrayed him. He averted his gaze immediately out of respect for her and himself, instead watched as she slid on a robe from the closet. She untucked her dark hair from underneath the neckline of the robe, making it more comfortable for her as it cascaded down her waist. She turned on her bare heels and waited for Inan to lead her to the office, a room she hadn't been to yet.
What could the Italian asshole need this late at night?
She wanted to ask a few questions but knew Inan probably couldn't answer them. She kept quiet as his footsteps echoed in the halls and hers made no noise against the marble floor. Her feet were more than cold due to the dining room doors still being open, something she would have to get used to, she guessed.
She tried to rub whatever was left of the tiredness out of her eyes, but she knew they would look dull anyway. She stared at the back of his suit, wondering if he wore the same thing all the time like her brothers did. Her brothers.
She tucked a strand of wavy hair beneath her ear when they slowed their pace, approaching double doors near the end of this hallway. Her hair was a mess, and not that she cared what they thought, she just didn't want to look unpresentable for anything in general. It was honestly Zion's fault, if he wanted her to look decent, he shouldn't have asked for a meeting while she was about to go to sleep.
Her leg stung with pain when she leaned onto the injured one, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from making any noise as Inan knocked on the right door.
A gruff 'come in' sounded from the other side of the door, and Zhara tied the silk robe around her waist and crossed her arms over her chest. Keeping her face blank as Inan opened one of the doors, she held back a scowl at the thought of whatever this was for.