Reign of a Billionaire : A Dark Mafia Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

“This isn’t a joke, Liana!” My mother glared at me, her Italian accent thickening. It was always the harshest when she was scared. “You know what the Tijuana cartel did to your sister. Do you want them to do that to you?”

I clenched my teeth, my voice lowering. I’d seen the video of my sister’s body dissolving into nothing. I’d tortured myself enough with it.

“Let them fucking come,” I hissed. “And I’ll end them just like they ended her.” My mother gritted her teeth, hating my rebellious streak. Lou was peaceful; I was a tornado. Lou was good; I was bad. Lou was innocent; I was far from it. “How can you even stand to work with them, knowing what they did to my sister?”

The black rage in my mother’s eyes couldn’t be missed. It was venomous and hateful, reflecting exactly how I felt about her associates. Hers was directed at me.

“You could get my father to help,” I hissed, my blood boiling. “He’d kill them all if he knew the truth.”

But truth was one thing Mother withheld. She’d used him, used all of us. She was Ivan Petrov’s wife but had fucked the Irish mobster, my father, Edward Murphy, with one purpose only. To get pregnant. Ivan couldn’t give her children and was more than happy to agree to Mother’s seduction plan. It put one more mobster in their pockets.

She wanted an empire; she got it. She sought revenge; she got that too, ten times over. This was her own cruel version of revenge against the world. Only, she was too blind to see that everyone—including her daughters—paid for it.

“Your father can’t help.” Something about the tone of her voice set my senses on high alert, but I didn’t dare question her.

Had something happened to my dad?

I hadn’t been able to get in touch with him for a while now, but that was nothing unusual. Sometimes he and Mother went through episodes of total silence. Growing up, they included us in their petty power plays, but my sister and I always had each other to lean on. It hurt that they couldn’t ever put their differences aside for us, but it brought us closer.

I didn’t have that anchor anymore. And I’d hardened that organ called a heart.

“It’s just you and me, Liana.” She dusted nonexistent wrinkles out of her Oscar de la Renta dress. “And I won’t tolerate disobedience.”

Her pruney fingertips reached for the faucet, twisting it. The pipes protested, and when I took my next breath, the rush of icy water came running out.

Minutes blurred, and so started my screams.

Chapter 14Liana

“You took her from me.” Mother’s blurry face was distorted. “I need her back. Understand me?” I nodded, despite not comprehending what she meant. “Very well, Liana. Let’s start.” The screams rang in my skull, refusing to cease. The shocks came, wrenching screams from my throat until it bled.

My body startled awake and I sat up straight, my ears ringing. I breathed heavily as sweat covered my skin, making my nightgown cling to my skin. I shook until I realized they were my own screams.

I brought my weak hands to my face, pushing drenched strands away from my forehead.

The ringing in my head made it difficult for my lungs to work, and I felt myself start to heave. Whispers that plagued my dreams, speaking faster and faster, taunted me.

You’re too easy to break. You’re too weak.

I squeezed my eyes shut, chasing the nightmares I didn’t understand far away. Memories.

I shook my head and closed my eyes. They weren’t memories, they couldn’t be. That never happened. The cracks in my chest and my skull deepened while a dull ache drummed behind my temples, lingering for hours as I lay awake staring at the ceiling, trying to remember.

Trying to forget.

A week later, my mother and I were back in the motherland. My birthplace.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on me. I’d barely slept a wink over the past week, each night a new dream plaguing my sanity every time I dozed off. They didn’t make any sense. There was no rhyme or reason behind their recurrence, but nonetheless, each one rattled me down to my core.

Frost settled into my bones, drawing a shiver out of me. Gosh, how I hated the cold and snow.

The first snow of the Siberian winter covered the landscape, stretching beyond what my weary eyes could take in. Ironic really, since every inch of Mother’s property was drenched in crimson, the invisible blood of innocents coating every corner.

The metal gates of the mansion opened ahead, my mother’s house—my prison—looming stark white against the gray sky. No matter how clean and pristine it looked, there was no hiding the sins beyond the property line.