Kane's Forbidden Mafia Princess

FIONA

"Who is he?" My dad barked, but I pushed my ear closer to my bedroom door. When I was younger, my parents always fought, never shy to raise their voices, but tonight, I could hear the tremble in Dad's tone.

"Lionel, I didn't-" Mom protested.

"...Tell me the truth!" He shouted, cutting her off. I flinched from the echo. "How could you do this to me?!"

I couldn't hear what Mom was saying, but the footsteps in the hallway caused my heart to race. I quickly jumped on my bed and pretended to be asleep.

The door bursts open, and I jolted up as Dad storms inside. His face is red, and tears stream down from the corners of his eyes."Fiona, pack your bags!" He ordered. "You're going to boarding school."

I sat upright, trying to process the news. "What? Why? But... Daddy?"

He pointed a hard finger at me. "Be ready, because we're leaving tomorrow morning."

Tears fell down my cheeks as I struggled to catch my breath. I realized I was being sent away, and also because my mother didn't do anything about it.

We lived in a small town outside New York City; my folks were middle-class, but they could afford to keep me away at a prep school in Boston.

Going home felt like living in hell; I remembered my mom crying after my dad hurt her. He would grab her arm and scream at her until she cried. She didn't try to leave him. She called it love; I called it madness.

Twelve years passed; I'd just graduated from the culinary institute at Boston University and was working at a five-star restaurant in Boston.

"Table nine needs more wine!" The head chef, Donald, barked. "What the hell are you doing?!"

Flinching at the tone of his voice, I nearly dropped the tray of dirty dishes in my hands."I was just returning these." I said, giving the tray to the dishwasher.

Donald's face was red as he thrust the order slip at me. "Get the wine now, Higgins!"

I took the slip and hurried to the wine locker room, and my shoulders slumped in defeat; getting a job as a chef was tougher than I imagined. So I settled for being a waitress, working two jobs and struggling to pay my bills.

I snatched the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon from the wine rack and hurried out of the kitchen. Tonight all the tables were filled with Boston's rich and famous chatting over dinner plates filled with vegetables and steaks; the good side was the generous tips.

The bad side, however...

"Unbelievable," one of the men at the table sneered. He had tried to cover his bald head with his hair. "The service here is so slow. I should leave a one-star review!"

I smiled sweetly as I uncorked the wine. "I'd leave your hairstylist the same review, because you aren't fooling anyone." I said innocently.

The look on his face was purely comical. His companions