TRAPPED BY THE MAFIA

For the first time in months, I finally make a decision to leave my research laboratory and head on out to my apartment just so I can have a peaceful and well rested weekend. I weave my keys through my fingers as I walk through the suspiciously quiet streets and the moment I come to a halt in front of my door, two men in black suddenly emerge from the shadows, taking their stance on both sides of me.

I suck in a breath.

Being taken hostage has become an all time normal in my life. It doesn't happen quite frequently but when it does happen, there's always one person behind it—my father.

What father derives pleasure in kidnapping his own daughter?

Mine.

With a roll of my eyes, I put my hands behind me, waiting for the men to bind my wrists together and blindfold me as they'd always done. "This doesn't count as kidnapping if I'm willingly going with you," I snort a laugh as they lead me into the black SUV.

Having a father like mine can pan out to be very detrimental to your mental health. A father whose only interest is money, power, fame, and more money. Never once has he shown any interest in putting his family in order, but plays himself out to be a responsible man in the eyes of the public.

My father is an extremely calm man on the outside but I do not and will never feign ignorance to what he truly is on the inside—a catastrophic, greedy bastard.

He always has the perfect excuse for being so withdrawn, being the consigliere of the mafia seems to be no joke and my father being my father takes his job a little too seriously.

. . .

"This has become quite predictable father. Don't you think you should just call and invite me over if you wanted to summon me. I am your daughter after all." I blow the strands of hair out of my face.

After hours of waiting in the basement, still bound to a chair, my father finally arrives and I'm in shock as to why I'm still tied up.

Something's definitely up.

"Sister," my twin sister peeks her head from behind my father's huge frame and I chuckle.

Like father, like daughter.

My twin sister Annabella has always taken after my father, and I on the other hand takes after my mother in more ways than one. Which explains why my father cannot stand me but showers Annabella with so much love and affection.

I and Annabella are identical in many ways except our eyes. Her eyes are emerald green just like my father's. But mine, I took one from my father and one from my mother.

I have two different irises—one appears as blue as the ocean and dead as ice and the other, emerald green.

Unique, don't you think?

It is something that has and will always gain me attention in public, except, I do not like being out in public.

Twenty six years of my life has been utterly boring. Just the same routine every freaking day. Although, I have no complaints.

I spent the first ten years of my life being homeschooled before my mother passed. Father was quick to ship me off to some boarding school. I cannot begin getting into details of what happened in that fucked up school, but I got an opportunity and made my escape.

From there, I became a lab scientist and I've since been confined in the four walls of my research laboratory.

Except for when my father decides to kidnap and bring me home. Whenever he needed something.

And he doesn't need something very often.

But he of course funds me pretty well—I'd give him credit for that.

While every effort was made to hide me away from the outside world, my sister Annabella was being trained in the best schools, introduced to the Italian mafia and their workings until she finally became an assassin and my father's puppet.

So, we might be twins but we share very different views and opinions and we have quite the opposite personalities.

"Your sister will be getting married in two weeks," my father states and I genuinely smile.

"Well father, you should've just sent me an invite, I'd have been more than happy to attend."

That's when I see the look in his eyes. The look that says he's in a difficult situation and needs saving—and if I'm still strapped to this chair, I guess I'm the one doing the saving.

"What do you need?" I ask and my father let out a sigh, pulling close a seat before settling into the seat—his breath exasperated.