Page 40 of The Merciless Don's Bride

Renata hands me a bowl of flour and leans close.

“Maybe if you two bake together, you’ll stop glaring like feral cats.”

Sofia hears her and snorts. “I don’t glare like a cat.”

“Of course not,” I murmur, cracking an egg into a bowl. “More like a hawk. Circling.”

She smirks. “Better than playing the victim.”

“I’m not playing the victim. I am the victim,” I snap back.

Then I take a moment, inhaling a deep breath to calm myself. I have to rise above this. She’s looking for a reaction and I’m not going to rise to the bait. I stir the egg into the sugar. “Listen Sofia., you don’t have to like me. But I’m not the enemy here.”

She pauses in the middle of whisking to glare at me.

Renata of course barrels right through the tension.

“Oh enough of that. The two of you shouldn’t be fighting. You should stick together. You’re both the same age, aren’t you? I’m sure you have lots in common. Sofia tell Cassie about that weird band you like. The one with the loud obnoxious music.”

“EDM isn’t weird, Renata. It’s fun,” she says rolling her eyes, but not without a smile.

“I completely agree. It’s the best kind of music to dance to at the club,” I say, glad to find some common ground.

“I’ve never done that. Clubbing,” Sofia says wistfully. “I’ve always wondered what it’d be like.”

“Never?” I ask surprised. “That’s blasphemy. Everyone deserves at least one club experience before the age of 21.”

“Well here I am at the ripe age of 23 and I haven’t had the pleasure. Perks of being a mafia princess,” she says sardonically.

My heart aches for her a little and then I realize that this is probably my future as well. Locked away forever. And the pain intensifies.

I think Sofia can tell what I’m thinking because she offers me a soft smile. Her warmest one directed at me so far.

“Don’t worry, Cassie. You’ll get used to it,” she tells me.

I refuse that though. There’s no world where I’ll accept being locked away like that.

Renata clears her throat, trying to dispel the sadness that suddenly clings to her kitchen. And it works, a little. Sofia and I end the conversation moving on to less depressing topics. For the next half hour, we work in a rhythm. Measuring, rolling, cutting, baking.

I catch Sofia smiling once the cookies come out perfectly golden, and when I compliment her piping work, she doesn’t snap back.

By the time we’re done, the kitchen is filled with warmth and it smells heavenly.

“You know you’re not so bad, Cassie,” Sofia says as we stare down to our hard work.

“I could have told you that the first time we met,” I point out with a smile.

“Sorry I was such a bitch. I just don’t like that you’re the reason my brothers are fighting,” she tells me.

My jaw drops, “How can I be the reason? I’ve never even met your other brother.”

“Damien burned some bridges in order to have you. Especially with Dante and I don’t like that. I don’t like how much hold you have over him,” Sofia says, her blue eyes piercing like her brothers. “But I’m willing to give you the benefit of doubt. For now. Don’t make me regret it.”

And with those words, she leaves the kitchen with a plate full of warm cookies. Renata and I share a look once she’s gone.

“I think the two of you are going to be close friends,” Renata says after a minute.

I can’t tell if she’s joking or not but it does make me laugh.

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