Page 7 of Vanished in Vegas

“Chill, Niccolai. It’s a hit. I don’t think I made the list,” I chuckled, walking out the door past Flint.

“Now’s not the time to joke, Boss,” he groaned. “We need to get you somewhere safe.”

“We’re out of the fucking church. Calm your fucking tits.” I rolled my eyes.

He waved his arm as my black SUV came barrel-assing through the church grass over to us with Monty behind the wheel. He swerved the vehicle and I was damn near thrown in the back by Niccolai. He and I were going to have a long discussion about manhandling me. For now, I’d let him get away with it since he thought he wassaving mefrom thebad guys.Mother fucker. We are the bad guys.

CHAPTER FIVE

SOFIA

“When we go in, keep your fucking mouth shut, Rosaline,” Arianna warned Rose, who was already in tears. We hadn’t even faced our father yet and she was already bawling like a baby.

“Rose, get yourself together,” I whispered, rubbing her back.

“Don’t fucking baby her, Sofia. Now is not the time for weakness!” Arianna snapped at me.

“Calm your fucking attitude. I’m not Rose, I’ll fight your ass!” I growled back. Arianna took a step closer to me. Our faces were now inches away from each other.

“I see someone wore their big girl panties today,” she smirked. “Think you can take me, little Sofia?”

“If you don’t get the fuck out of my face, you’ll find out.” My eyes were locked on hers. There was no way in hell I was backing down to her. I was tired of her shit.

When we got word that Sylvester Levi and his son Rocco, the groom, had been executed, Arianna flipped out. She bitched how our father would never let us live this down. Then we were told that the bride had been kidnapped. Rose lost it. She cried hysterically, which added to Arianna’s annoyance. Arianna went full bitch mode on Rose.

I snapped at Arianna in Rose’s defense. It only made matters worse for Rose and me because then on the three-hour flight, Arianna raged on about how Rose was a big baby and I babied her. I didn’t even bother responding to her. Talking to her when she was on one of her bitchy tangents was pointless. I’d have a better chance of getting a rock to respond to me.

The double doors to my father’s conference room opened. Someone cleared their throat. Arianna and I slowly took our eyes off each other. We looked into the room.

“Papa,” my sisters and I said in unison.

“Come in,” my father replied cooley, granting us access into the room. We quickly stepped inside and Al, who stood by the doors, shut them behind us.

Our father was sitting in his leather chair, at the head of the long table. His hands folded on top of the mahogany table. His large signet ruby diamond ring that he wore on his pinky finger gleamed in the lighting.

The table was filled by his soldiers. They were dressed in their fancy suits. Their eyes locked on my sisters and me.

“Cut it off,” my father ordered.

My sisters and I quickly looked at him. He wasn’t looking at us. He was staring at Joey, one of his slimiest goons. Joey had sat at the table for nearly two decades. However, his loyalty had recently been questioned.

“Boss?” Joey’s voice trembled as he turned his attention to my dad.

“Prove your loyalty. Cut your finger off,” my father replied coldly.

Oh no,I gasped internally. This was the last thing I wanted to witness. It wouldn’t be my first time; however, who the fuck liked watching someone cut off a body part? My dad was a sick fuck.

“What?” Rose squeezed softly next to me. I kept my eyes on my dad but reached for her hand. When our fingers touched, she frantically grabbed my hand and squeezed it hard.

“Would you like us to leave, Papa?” Arianna asked without any signs of emotion in her tone.

“No,” he replied flatly. His eyes locked firmly on Joey.

“Don’t cry,” Arianna muttered under her breath. No doubt her words were meant for Rose.

Rose’s hand trembled forcefully. I gripped her hand tighter, hoping to send her my strength and calm her nerves. This was the type of darkness Arianna and I had worked hard to guard her against. We tried to let her see our father in a different light; however, this was who he was. A monster.

“I don’t believe I stuttered. Did I stutter, Carlo?” my father asked, looking at Carlo, who sat to his right.

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