Her Mafia Brothers

Eating, Asking, Freaking

As we headed to the kitchen we passed a thick steel dead bolted door. It seemed bizarre having a door like that inside the house so I asked Logan about it.

"That's the left wing. You're not allowed in there."

"Why not?"

He frowned, looking so much like Damon that I shivered. "Business headquarters," he told me brusquely.

"So why can't I go in there?" I pressed, oddly curious.

"House rules," he said simply, but firmly.

"Do you go in there?"

"Sometimes."

"So why can't I?"

This time, instead of frowning, he smiled and pressed a finger to my lips. "No more questions," he said. "Some things you're just going to have to accept."

"But -" I was cut off when he put his whole hand over my mouth and shook his head.

Sensing I wasn't going to get any more of an answer out of him, I shut my mouth and followed him to the kitchen. I'd find out though, what was behind that door. I was going to make it my mission.

The kitchen was huge. I mean, I knew it would be big. The rest of this house is massive, after all. But the kitchen was far bigger than I expected. And true to his word, Damon had arranged for a tray of food to be prepared for us. Right there, sitting on the kitchen island in the middle of the large, modern, well appointed kitchen with the tiled floor, was the most delicious looking spread I'd ever seen! I don't remember a time in my life where I ever wasn't hungry. Even when there was food, and I could eat, there was never enough. It was very rarely fresh, and it never filled me up. But right here, tempting me, was a tray filled with cut fruit, cubes of cheese, a variety of crackers, small squares of chocolate cake, pretzels, and other things I didn't recognise. Despite my earlier insistence that I wasn't hungry, my stomach growled in longing, betraying me, and I sat up on a high stool next to Logan.

"Did Damon make this?" I asked.

Logan shook his head. "We have staff," he said.

"Oh." Of course they did. Why wouldn't they? Why would they clean and cook for themselves when they could pay someone to do it for them? I swallowed my bitterness. It wasn't their fault I had been living in squalor for years, without enough to eat, or decent clothes to wear. It wasn't their fault that I had missed so much school due to poverty. Or that I was so skinny and malnourished from lack of food. It still hurt, though. They had so much wealth, and I had lived with so little. It seemed so unfair.

Once again, Logan apparently read my mind. "You'll never be hungry again, sis. Everything we have is yours now too."

I felt myself blush in embarrassment. Hopefully he couldn't tell how bitter I was. "Am I really that easy to read?"

He grinned widely and nodded at me, stuffing a handful of pretzels into his mouth.

"Damn."

Logan's expression changed from a grin to a smirk. "Don't let Rocco hear you swearing. He doesn't like it."

"Why not?" I was shocked. Rocco was covered in tattoos and looked to be the type of person who had a vocabulary like a sailor. "Doesn't he swear? I know Nick does. Why can't I?"

"Yeah Nick does. They all do. But Rocco hates it when I do it, so he'll hate it when you do it, too."

"Isn't that a bit hypocritical?"

Logan shrugged. "Probably. But that's just how it is."

"Well I think it's stupid," I declared. "I'll speak how I want."