Fourteen.

"Quantum pensi ache valga la tua ragazza?" (How much do you think your girlfriend is worth?)

I am brought back to reality when I overhear one of the goons speaking Italian.

They converse exclusively in their mother tongue for two reasons: one, they're speaking about me, and two, they don't want me to know of their agendas because I am guaranteed to detest them with a passion.

'They are certainly in for a little treat..' My inner Goddess cackles.

They have no idea that I have been buried in books recently; I may not be fluent in Italiano, just yet. But, I can understand enough to pick up on what they are saying for me to respond.

Aces' pupils contract into thin slits, and his fingers twist into the plain white table cloth in front of him, crinkling the perfectly ironed linen as he inwardly seethes by the comment being made.

I watch him discreetly in the corner of my eye, he's been closed off and aloof since he was forced to watch Trent take me against my will last night for the twentieth time since I began a war with the Irishmen.

A trait of his personality I despise to see, and while I loathe the fool, I take note that I did at one point love him with all my heart, and if I'm being brutally honest, I still do in a twisted sort of way.

Though, he will never own my heart again.

Miraculously he hasn't been as obnoxious since learning about the baby, and I was starting to see glimpses of the Ace I first fell in love with. My heart still ached from his tormenting ways, but it also beat with a vengeance for Trent.

With Enzo being his capo bastone, (Underboss) I just know that if Trent was to be taken out, my life in the Mafia world would be so much more tolerable.

He is gentle, considerate, and adamantly opposed to the harming of women or children, the polar opposite of Trent.

I cast my gaze across the restaurant, watching Castello work the room; he is Trent's first cousin and consigliere. Trent's most trusted confidant, some may claim that Trent is impotent without him, and I can attest that I have never seen Trent act without Castello's approval.

A snake slithering through the shadows, striking when you least expect it.

I cast my gaze back to the stage, the sight of innocent girls crying and trembling, blindfolded reminds me of myself when Trent would film himself screwing me at the beginning of his quest to break me and sell the footage on the black market making a small killing from it.

My hands curl into tight fists, my acrylic nails pierce the skin on the palms of my hands, inflicting a bite of pain and drawing blood. I hiss as my left eye twitches at the comment being repeated once again.

I pick up my glass of water as I rise from my seat, "Pìu di tua madre puttana!" (More than your whore mother!) I sneer, throwing the rest of the water in Nios face and I leave the table without anyone's permission.

The bouts of laughter follow me as I walk out of the restaurant on trembling limbs and I round the corner, leaning against the brick wall as I suck in deep breaths of fresh air.

My head rests against the brick wall, and I close my eyes, listening to the rhythm of my beating heart. The crisp air blasts through my stupidly pricey candy apple red gown, causing a plague of goosebumps to spring to life along my freezing skin, and I shiver with a sigh, waiting for one of the goons to discover me and pull me back inside, telling me just how much of a useless cunt I am.

And then, as if on cue, I hear a deep chuckle as the clicking sound of dress shoes approaches me and the aroma of cigars dominates the air.

"Ciao, Bellissima." (Hello, Gorgeous.)

I pry one eyelid open, shocked to discover Castello standing in front of me, opening my other eye, watching him taking a deep drag before blowing out his cigar. "You put on quite a show before storming out of the restaurant." He jokes, winking at me as he runs his fingers over his jet black hair.

My eyes immediately focus on the enormous circular gold ring he wears on his pinky finger, which demonstrates his mob affiliation and it gleams under the street lamps.

I've noticed that only a few of the goons, including Ace, have earned theirs. The ring is carved with an elaborate 'E' surrounded by small diamonds that signify the Esposito family name.

I inhale and exhale loudly, rubbing my hands up and down the length of my frigid arms.

"I'm aware of what everyone thinks of me, and frankly, I couldn't care less. It's not as if I have the option of walking away, but I'm not going to sit there and take it when those bastardos start talking shite about me in front of me." I mutter with contempt, knowing full well that I don't know much about Castello; he may be just as sick as Trent, and for all I know, it could be a genetic trait.

"Buon per te." (Good for you.) He replies with a lopsided smirk that makes him alluring.

He sticks his cigar between his teeth, watching me with his ocean baby blue irises and I start to liquefy under his intense stare.

"Seguimi." (Follow me.) He says and walks away.

I push myself from the wall and pursue him through the darkness as he sweeps past me, my brows pinching together as fine lines sear deeply into my face. He leads me down the restaurant's side passageway to the rear entrance; I swallow as memories of the night I was kidnapped flood before my eyes and I stumble forward, tripping over my own feet.

He reaches out and grabs me just in time to prevent me from colliding with him and maybe sending us both tumbling to the ground.

"Attenta, principessa. Non sono così divino." (Be careful princess, I am not that Godly.)

He winks and I clear my throat as humiliation slams into me. I step away from him, my cheeks flushing crimson red.

I follow him inside, where he slides back a door and motions for me to enter. I remain still, gnawing on the bottom corner of my lip, and turn my head along the narrow corridor leading back to Ace.

"You've come this far; it would be a disgrace for you to back down and walk away now, much more so when I have a proposition that may interest you."

"Interest me?" I scoff.

'What possible business could Castello Esposito have to offer me?'

As I continue to stand there and observe him, calculating my alternatives, I thought to myself.

"I've never spoken to you or been in the same room as you in the three years I've been with Ace. After all, what could you possibly have to offer someone like me?" I slant my head to the side, placing my hands on my swollen stomach as if to remind him of my current predicament.

He pushes the door further back, his palm clasping the steel doorknob and his face contemptuous. "You will never know unless you take the risk and join me in the room where future plans can be discussed." His words are deeply suffused with his Italian accent, disguising his voice's harshness.

"Per favore." (Please.) He says as we continue to stare into each other's eyes.