In Bed with the Hot Brothers

Chapter 1

Ziyana

My father taught me that wealth is the highest power I could acquire for myself. It's the biggest flex of all time. Being able to get what you want no matter where it is or how it is gotten. It not only shows how connected you are but specifically, it shows that you are powerful.

Only that he was wrong.

I'm Ziyana Casimiro, daughter to the mighty and fearless Dario Casimiro, a Mafia Lord in Sicily. My life itself is one that could be regarded as the life of a Princess. I had everything a girl could want; expensive dresses and bags from well known designers, jewelry that cost a fortune, not to mention parties and holidays all over the world. Our home was built on a wide area of land, heavily guarded by the best security facility in Italy. The mere mention of my father's name sends fear down the spines of his enemies.

I had all of my whims catered for, I only had to ask and it would be brought to me. All I did was laze around the house. I never went out for anything, everything I needed had to be done by my lines of maids waiting for my instructions. Even my education has to be done inside of my father's palace by the best professors all over the world. It was safe to say that I know nothing but the happiness and sweetness of the universe.

And then one fateful night, everything crumbled. All that he had ever built fell and never rose again.

What happened?

Death.

The news of my father's demise arrived late that night. It has been difficult to sleep. I could feel that something terrible was about to happen, especially with the weather being windy. The doors and window of our castle rattled against its frame, waking me from my short sleep.

I had padded to my father's office, hoping to meet him bent on piles of papers as always. I opened the door only to see that he hadn't returned. He had left saying that he'd be back before sun sets.

Only that he didn't. He returned in a black casket with a hole in his head. I couldn't forget the gory image as he lay lifeless in the casket as if he'd stand up anytime soon.

None of his loyal men came back with him that evening, only his lifeless body returned. In a blink of an eye, Dario Casimiro, who used to be the most feared, lay in his own blood helplessly.

One after the other,his close friends and associates whose laughter and jokes usually filled the halls of our castle disappeared. None of them wanted to be associated with a fallen hero.

You are probably wondering what happened to me.

I hit rock bottom, crashing hard.

After he was laid to rest, a few of his friends stayed. Some distant relatives who had come, stayed for days more. In those days, all they