SURRENDER - Mafia Romance

• CHAPTER 7 •

I groaned and held my head. I felt like every bone in my body was broken.

"About time you wake up!" A deep voice made me gasp and open my eyes. I wasn't in my room, I was on a couch downstairs. "I wasn't going to pick you up all the way up to your room." Ace said as he opened the curtains of the windows in the living room. I wasn't even sure it was a living room. All I knew was that there were three couches around the fireplace with nothing else and at the other end of the room, right in front of the door, there was the big island of the open kitchen.

"What happened?" I cleared my throat as soon as I heard my voice.

"You fell asleep in the car." He said, sitting on the other couch, crossing his legs. He took a glass filled with golden liquid and started sipping on it.

"You could have woke me up, by the way," I coldly said, fixing my hair.

He stared at me, with no words pronounced and no moves taken. He watched me brushing my hair with my fingers and then putting it in a bun before moving back to sit properly on the couch.

"I need to shower."

"The bathroom is upstairs on our floor. Help yourself," his eyes were still fixed on me while taking another sip of his drink.

"I don't have clothes though, I need to–"

"Your closet is filled with clothes."

"But I will need–"

"Talia," his voice deepened, warning me, knowing what I was aiming for, "everything you will need is in the room. You're not leaving here."

I took a deep breath as I watched him, biting my bottom lip to not lash out at him, but I couldn't contain myself, "looks like you care about me so much that you treat me like a prisoner."

"If that's what you want to call it," he made it clear that he didn't want to have this conversation again.

"And it is because of my father right?" I tried to push his buttons but he was cold, patient, sipping on his drink.

"Yeah," he simply said.

"How ironic that a criminal can care about someone's daughter when this someone is dead!"

He slammed his glass on the table in front of him and tightened his grip. His free hand turned into a fist, his nostrils flared like a mad horse and moved forward in his chair, "it is not my problem if your little head cannot comprehend how much I admired your father and respected his words. Neither is it my problem for you not to know the value of keeping a promise to a dead man. But I do. Yes, I won't deny that I let you choose whether you wanted to stay or leave but I didn't consider your little moron brain that doesn't think twice before making a death decision with such lightness," he hissed with his body leaning forward, his hand was still around his glass and his stare was sharper than a knife with his irises were locked to the top of his eyes.

I was taken back by his words, my heart was beating loudly and fast, not from fear but from anger. I was speechless because I wanted to say so many things but my tongue wasn't able to choose which thought to let out first.

"You have – no right – using that tone when you're talking to me," I used my index to emphasize my words.

"If you were old enough to care about your safety like your father did, maybe I would have treated you like an adult."

"You think I am safe here? Where everyone is holding guns and where do people never sleep? Do you think I'm safe with a bunch of criminals? Do you think I am safe in the house of the lion? In the pit of the fire? I would actually be stupid if I continue to live here!"