Page 68 of Taken By Sin
“Non hai mai portato una donna qui, figliolo. Perdonami se sono critico quando devo garantire la sicurezza delle nostre famiglie.”
(You’ve never brought a woman here, son. Forgive me for being critical when I need to ensure our family’s safety.) Bria rolls her eyes.
“Sai che non sono così stupido da metterci in pericolo, lei è innocua. Fidati di me e di Bria, ok? Gestiamo tutto in città. Sai che siamo bravi a mantenere il nostro nome di famiglia.”
(You know I’m not stupid enough to put us in danger, she’s harmless. Trust Bria and I, okay? We handle everything in the city. You know we’re good at holding our family name.)
“Hai ragione,” Mr. Donati sighs. “Sono sempre in difesa. Mi dispiace davvero, farò del mio meglio. Devo solo tenervi al sicuro.”
(You’re right. I’m just always on the defense. I truly am sorry, I’ll try my best. I just have to keep you two safe.)
“Siamo al sicuro; so cosa sto facendo. Inoltre, parliamo solo in inglese quando lei è qui, ok? Voglio farla sentire a suo agio. Soprattutto dopo quella merda che hai appena fatto.”
(We are safe; I know what I’m doing. Also, we only speak inEnglish when she’s here, okay? I want to make her feel comfortable. Especially after that shit you just pulled.)
The conversation is wrapping up, so Bria and I quietly retreat into the living room.
While we wait for their conversation to finish, I gawk at the architecture of the living room. The centerpiece of it all is a massive roaring fireplace. The stone is dark and rich with age, carved into intricate designs that twist and curl like the tendrils of some forgotten story. Above it, the mantel stretches wide, polished wood gleaming under the soft glow of the flickering firelight. Resting on it is an oil painting, framed in gold, its edges slightly worn with time.
The painting itself captures a woman in a regal pose, her gaze intense yet distant, as if caught in a moment of deep thought. Sin's mother—her features sharp and striking, with high cheekbones and eyes that seem to pierce right through anyone who dares to meet them. Her dark hair cascades in waves around her shoulders, the delicate fabric of her gown shimmering under the soft strokes of the artist’s brush.
The colors of the painting are muted, soft earth tones blending with the flicker of the fire, but there's a certain life to it, a vibrancy in her expression that pulls at something deep inside you. She looks powerful, untouchable—yet there’s something about her posture, something in the lines of her face, that suggests a quiet sadness.
The fire crackles beneath her, the flames dancing and flickering in the hearth, casting moving shadows across the painting, as if the woman herself is alive, still watching over the room, over this place.
Mr. Donati walks into the room, then to me, extending his hand. “Ms. Finley, you will have to forgive me. I don’t meet a lot of new people, and you’re the first woman my son has brought to our family home.”
While the knowledge that I’m the first makes me smile, I can’t seem to get over how he treated me. I could be a snob and give him the same tone he gave me, but instead, I choose kindness. He’ll warm up to me, not that I need his approval, but because I want to be respectful towards Sin and Bria’s father.
In truth, I can’t imagine how it is to be the head of a crime organization, so maybe I should just thank my lucky stars that I’m alive right now.
“To new beginnings.” I return the shake of his hand, and this time his eyes are softer, more welcoming.
“Well,” Bria clasps her hands, slapping the tension from the room, “shall I show you the estate?” She extends her hand to me, and I take it. “Don’t pay too much attention to him,” she whispers once we get down the hallway.
“Is it me?” I look down at my beautiful dress, passing by an ornate mirror rimmed in gold. I look nice, and presentable. My fingers slip through my curls.
“No.” She sends me a sincere smile, fixing her own hair in the mirror. “He doesn’t take well to any outsider, but give him time and he will warm up to you. Sin is like a rock, and you penetrated that rough exterior. My dad, he’s a boulder.” She laughs at the comparisons. “All of that to say, you need to toughen up your exterior too. This family isn’t healthy, and it isn’t loving.” A longing look sits in her eyes. “That part died in my father when my mother perished.” She bites her lip,gesturing her hand in front of her. “This is my favorite part.” She opens a set of French doors, showing a garden.
I step outside, and the crisp air of fall fills my lungs. The cobblestone path crunches beneath my feet as I walk, the hedges now tinged with the warm hues of amber and gold. The trees, their leaves fading from green to shades of orange and deep red, stand tall against the sky, the breeze shaking loose a shower of leaves that flutter to the ground around me. The air smells of earth and wood, with a hint of something sweet—like the last blooms of late-season roses.
Ahead, the fountain still stands, its water flowing quietly, casting soft ripples that dance across the surface. The marble statues, though cold to the touch, seem to shimmer in the soft light, their faces serene as they stand sentinel over the garden.
“Stunning,” I breathe out.
As we walk, Bria points out the ancient oak trees that line the edges of the estate, their branches swaying with the wind, leaves scattering like confetti around us.
“These trees have been here for centuries,” she says, a note of pride in her voice. "Some of them even predate the mansion itself."
Bria walks ahead, guiding me toward the stone steps that lead up to the door across the courtyard, her heels clicking on the stone. “Everything is a big circle around the gardens. All rooms you’ll find upstairs, Sin can show you later.”
We circle back around to Sin and Maxwell, seeing his father nowhere in sight. He plants a kiss on my cheek. “You okay?”
I nod. “I wish he would have liked me from the get-go, but maybe I’ll warm up to him.” I offer a weakshrug.
He leans in slightly, his voice low enough only for me to hear. “Don’t mind him,” he murmurs. “He was just trying to figure out where you fit. But I know you belong here. Don’t let anyone make you feel small. I talked to him.”
I know, we listened in.