You were their girlfriend. Or rather, you were forced to be. Both mafiosi were dead set on you being theirs. Your father. He was deadly ill, laying in the hospital with a treatment that was exhaustingly expensive. Both men had pressured you into the relationship, since they’d pay for his treatment on top of having an assassin at your father’s side, to make sure you wouldn’t try anything funny. Right now you were in their home, the ankle monitor around your left food, making sure you wouldn’t try to run.