Hello!!

Apologies for missing the last update, a lot is going on at home right now. I'll try not to post late again but I cannot make any promises but I did make this chapter slightly longer to make up for it.

Enjoy!

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"What the hell is this?"

"A dress. For the funeral. People need to see you mourn," Jasper announced, throwing the garment bag on the bed carelessly. "We're leaving at seven." The clock flashed at 1:35 am in bright red letters.

I unzipped it, pulling out the hanger to showcase the outfit. "You couldn't let me mourn in pants?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He barely glanced at me, his eyes on his phone. "Amari picked it out."

My eyes rolled at the mere mention of my youngest sibling's name. "Of course she did." The Princess did whatever she wanted.

"Shower, you need it." Jasper sniffed the air deliberately and threw a duffle bag on the bed, slamming the hotel room door, leaving me alone to dress.

I threw up my middle fingers at the door, cursing him loud enough to hear me through the closed door.

The six-hour flight was uneventful considering I slept the entire time, locked away in the small bedroom unwilling to talk to anyone. Franco woke me up just after one in the morning after we landed.

Jasper decided that there were more important things than waiting five minutes to wake me up and left before I came out of the bedroom. One single SUV sat on the tarmac, its engine idling. Franco and I found our own way to the random airport hotel ten minutes away from where the jet had landed.

Curiosity rang through me the whole drive and I questioned why no one else had been waiting on the tarmac for my arrival, not to sound vain but as the heir to a family fortune, I usually endured a whole entourage of security. Except for this time, not a single soul save for the person who drove Jasper wherever he had disappeared off to.

I barely turned on all the lights in my hotel room when he burst through the door, dropping my attire on the bed and leaving within a span of a minute.

The duffle bag he left behind contained three different pairs of high heels, all brand-named, and a large toiletry bag filled with make-up.

Before I had a chance to do anything a timid knock sounded through my hotel room. My eyebrows pulled together in confusion as I shuffled toward the door. On the other side, a nervous hotel staff member swallowed visibly and thrust out a silver tray covered with a matching closh.

He never uttered a single word. I quirked an eyebrow and leaned my head forward out into the hall, ignoring the trembling employee. A glance to the left showed a bulky suit-clad body, standing a few feet away from my door and the same view to my right, only leaner.

There's my entourage.

"Harvey, Lorenzo," I murmured, taking the tray from the employees' hands. I barely had a good grip on it when he rushed back down the hallway. "It's good to see you both again."

Harvey, the one to my left, smiled. "Good to have you home, Ana." Lorenzo stayed silent, always the serious one. Both were close to my father's age and had helped watch over me since childhood.

I ducked back into my room, kicking the door closed and placing the tray on the small desk in the corner since it was the only hard surface in the room.

Under the closh contained a bowl of granola mixed with yogurt and a side of bacon with a bottle of water and orange juice. On cue, the smell of crispy bacon hit my senses and my stomach grumbled. Showers be damned.

After hours of procrastination, I critiqued my appearance in front of the floor-length mirror next to the bathroom door. The tight black dress hugged my curves and a wide black belt cinched around my waist. Black stilettos added four inches to my height. A classic black Chanel purse lay on the bed containing my cellphone and switchblade, nothing else.

A small hair clip with a mesh veil that sat just below my eyes was situated on the side of my head, holding back a few strands of my hair. I wore a pair of black leather gloves that stopped at my wrists and a string of pearls decorated my neck.

I scowled at my reflection, adding the final touch of red lipstick to my lips before stepping back, fluffing my black hair.

And just like that, Anastasia Love returned.

A solid knock on the door told me that my solitude was officially over. No more welcomed loneliness or typical routine days of selling baked goods and spending hours talking to my neighbors.

I grabbed the pair of sunglasses from the duffle bag and slipped them over my eyes even though the sun had only just lifted over the horizon and I was still indoors.

Jasper stood in front of me, a scowl that matched mine on his face. He wore a fresh suit and his hair was styled, not a strand out of place.

He gave me a once over and cocked his head to the side before turning around and padded down the hallway, expecting me to follow him. I stepped out of the room and a maid I hadn't seen brushed past me, her head bowed, and rushed into the room, packing away everything I used to get ready.

Jasper stopped at the end of the hallway, looking back once and nodding his head lightly. I moved after him, Harvey and Lorenzo trailing behind me. The walk to the elevator was short and silent, no doubt any room occupants on this floor were still sleeping.

The elevator opened on the ground floor to a small lobby and reception desk. Two men in suits were posted on either side of the lobby and joined our group as we strode past. Franco waited outside the automatic doors in front of two black SUVs with tinted windows.

I held out a hand in Franco's direction and he leaned forward, gripping my fingers and twirling me once. "Welcome back, Miss Love," he said with a mischievous smile. His eyes roamed over my arms, "You're going to need to touch up your tattoos soon, they've faded."

I glanced down at my arms, noting all the little tattoos scattered along them, and then thought about the huge ass outlined rose one that goes from my collarbone to shoulder that I got when I turned eighteen because it looked cool in pictures.

Three men appeared next to the first SUV. They all nodded in my direction, acknowledging my authority. My face remained neutral as I climbed into the second SUV with Jasper next to me.

Franco climbed in the seat behind me and Lorenzo sat in the passenger seat next to Harvey who sat in the driver's. A second later we were off.

I twisted in my seat to face my brother. "What time is the service?"

Jasper didn't bother glancing at me. "Eight-thirty."

"Which church?"

"The Bronx cemetery."

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. A cemetery? Although understandable since my family owned a mausoleum in said cemetery, people of our occupation usually said our goodbyes within a private room at a church or a funeral home, not recklessly out in the open.

"And what time will our Mother and Father grace us with their presence?" I asked expectantly. While a surprise to me that my father had yet to call or even send a message since I had landed, it was expectant of him to not give a fuck.

Jasper gazed out the window, watching the early morning traffic around us. His left hand clenched into a fist. "They won't be."

A twitch of my eye showed the only giveaway to my surprise. "And did they happen to give a reason?" My voice stayed low, giving us little privacy in the crowded car.

"Do they ever?" He retorted, pulling out his phone and began typing.

Of course, my father couldn't be bothered to attend the funeral of his only brother.

"Due to their absence, you will have the responsibility of being the head of the family," Jasper informed me, slipping his phone in his suit pocket and turning to face me for the first time since getting into the car. "You will sit in the front row and say your final goodbyes in the mausoleum privately. We'll then go to the manor to meet with Father."

His words struck me. Head of the family. Something my younger self craved more than anything.

It took just over an hour to get to the Bronx Cemetery due to morning traffic New York City is infamous for.

We drove through the towering wrought-iron gates at the entrance and followed the winding road through the cemetery.

Harvey slowed the car down where I assumed the funeral would take place due to the crowd of cars snaking along the curb and the people congregating up the small hill near my family's mausoleum.

I moved to step out of the car but Jasper's hand gripped my bicep, halting me in my seat. My eyebrows furrowed in annoyance but once Lorenzo got out and walked around the vehicle and another person in a navy blue suit strode over to him and said something. Understanding slowly dawned on me.

I was the head of the family today and with that title came security risks.

Jasper's phone beeped and he released my arm, nodding for me to climb out of the car. Lorenzo's sleek frame blocked my view ahead of me. Franco came out behind me and Jasper appeared at my side, staying close enough that our arms brushed against each other.

Harvey locked the car and took his place at my other side, effectively blocking me into a small bubble of bodies.

The walk up the grassy hill was less than ideal but stumbling was not an option in front of everyone gathering near the mausoleum. A sea of black clothing blocked my view of the casket and I noted more than a few men stationed around the area. Their eyes tracked my movement and everything around us.

I recognized every face that came into view, all of them worked for my family whether on our compound where our family home was located or in the city where our...other headquarters sat.

Movement came from my left, where Jasper stood, and suddenly he was pushed to the side and a body barrelled into mine, almost knocking me down the hill I just climbed.

A wave of panic rolled through me at the fact that my brother couldn't even stop someone from shoving him over but then the person in my arms pressed a soft kiss to my hair. "You're back," he whispered.

I grabbed his arms and pulled him off of me, looking into those brown eyes that held the mischievous glint I missed more than words. "Elijah," I breathed a shocked smile on my face as I hugged my younger brother close to me.

Over Elijah's shoulder, Jasper grumbled and tugged at his cuff links, straightening his sleeves. Muttered words like 'ridiculous' and 'childish' left his lips and with a final huff, he walked away to join the other mourners with another member taking his place, cocooning Elijah and me together.

He scrunched his nose at me after letting go. "Probably shouldn't smile at a funeral, huh?" He asked with a grin, contradicting his words.

I, on the other hand, managed to pull my lips into a neutral line. "Probably not the best idea, Jasper would have a fit," I replied with a wink, linking my arm through his, "Now, tell me how you've been, I want all the dirty details."

Elijah squeezed my arm tightly and lead me further through the small crowd. Members, their wives, and close friends of my family nodded towards me, offering their respects for the passing of my uncle. I kept my face solemn, inclining my head slightly to acknowledge them, people felt important and showed more respect when someone in a higher authority paid attention to everyone in the room, a tactic my father taught me.

"I'm not seeing any bright colors, where is our dear sister?" I observed, knowing whether or not she was at a funeral, Amari would be the center of attention. She always was.

We paused behind a line of people waiting to pay their respects to my uncle's casket. From my viewpoint, the lid was open, no doubt a ploy by my own father to remind everyone here that no matter who you were in this business, you were not safe.

One look from Elijah and my personal guards left us alone. I didn't bother hiding my smile, Elijah may barely be twenty-two and full of mischief, he could be terrifying when necessary.

"Amari is at the manor, father thought her too young to be here," he said softly, his deep voice smooth, "Atticus is sitting in his seat already like a good boy."

I raised a single brow. "Father didn't want a sixteen-year-old coming to the funeral but is happy to send a seventeen-year-old?" I asked curiously. I shouldn't be surprised, this was Amari we were talking about.

Elijah grinned. "I don't pretend to understand our father's mind, nothing good can come from that." The line moved a couple of inches. He cleared his throat deliberately causing people to turn their heads, catching a glimpse of him and me standing together, faces blank.

They immediately parted, allowing us to move to the front silently.

We ambled forward, my eyes drawn to the white linen decorating the cushion of the casket where my uncle lay, his face peaceful as if he were asleep. I stared down at him in his favorite Armani navy suit he wore to family events, his greying hair styled perfectly curled over his ears

Elijah's comforting hand rested on my shoulder. "I just saw him two days ago," his voice thick with emotion, "he stitched up my arm when I got back from Philadelphia."

A small breath left my lips and I let the sadness course through me. Uncle Ron was the family doctor, every time someone got hurt, he fixed them and now he was gone.

We weren't particularly close but he did make us laugh, he gave us the love we craved from our father. And we took that for granted.

Elijah's hand tightened on my shoulder in silent understanding. I ran my fingers over the sleek black mahogany casket.

Uncle George waited on the other side of the casket, thanking mourners for their condolences. My father should be here next to him.

He stared at his husband lying in the casket, his expression completely broken. My chest pinched at the outright emotion he expressed and I found myself reaching out to squeeze his hands.

Uncle George gave me a watery smile and kissed the back of my hand. "Thank you for cutting your trip short to be here, Anastasia."

I gripped his hands tightly. "There is nowhere else I would rather be, Uncle George." I pressed a kiss to his cheek, feeling the rough stubble from lack of shaving against my lips. "I want you to join me in the mausoleum for a private goodbye."

His eyes widened and he bowed his head, his lips trembling. "Thank you." I nodded once, leaving Elijah to speak with him.

Slowly, the mourners found their seats, leaving the front row empty. One person sat in their seat in the front row and I walked over to them.

I raised both arms out in front of me and gestured upwards with my fingers. "Get up and hug your big sister," I teased, the corner of my lips tugging up into a faint smile. Atticus stared at me blankly before getting to his feet. I took a shocked step back. "Jesus, you've gotten big." At seventeen he was an inch taller than me.

He rolled his eyes and leaned forward, awkwardly wrapping his arms around me as if this tortured him. I didn't let the hug linger and released him quickly, watching him sit back down and run a pale hand through his short brown hair. His skin tone looked more like our fathers than the rest of us who resembled our mother's Greek heritage.

Jasper suddenly appeared at my side with Elijah in tow and together they sat down, leaving a space for me. Uncle George took his own seat next to Atticus and with a shush from the priest, everyone went silent.

I had attended few funerals in my life but this one by far took the longest. Uncle George understandably sobbed the entire time while my brothers sat stoically in their chairs. I am brave enough to admit that I shed a few tears as the closing hymn a few people sang.

"Miss Love, as the head of the household, it is expected that you have a private moment with the body in the mausoleum to say your goodbyes," the priest spoke quietly, gesturing to the large structure a few men had deposited the casket moments ago.

I nodded my head once. "Thank you, Father."

He opened the iron door that led inside while Uncle George and I stepped through into the cold, dark space. Blank square blocks painted the wall where the Love family members were to be laid to rest one day.

Uncle Ron's casket filled up most of the small standing area and a black curtain draped over one empty square where he would be laid to rest.

Uncle George and I stood across from each other, my uncle's casket in between us. I kissed the tips of my fingers and rested them on his still chest in one final goodbye. I lifted the hand laying on his chest and putting the red rose in it before setting it back in its place.

A moment of silence passed between us.

"Now," I said softly, raising my eyes to meet my uncle's, "Tell me everything."

The tone in my voice must have alerted him because his head snapped up to me, mouth open in shock. "Anastasia, I loved your Uncle-."

I raised a gloved hand, silencing any further comments. "I don't deny that you loved Uncle Ron but if you expect me to believe that you were sound asleep until the gun went off then you better fucking hope that I don't find out that you were lying to my face. So I'll ask again: what happened?"

Another beat of silence passed.

Uncle George's face crumpled and his voice broke when he replied, "I couldn't see them but they were arguing quietly," tears fell from his eyes, "there was something about money but I can't be sure, he mentioned ten million dollars."

My eyebrows furrowed. "Who?"

"The person, they said ten million dollars and sho-" he broke off in a sob, unable to say the words on how my uncle died.

My head started to throb from his words. "So he wanted ten million dollars and Uncle Ron said no?" I asked in disbelief. Ten million was nothing to my family, especially when your life was on the line. You could hunt them down once they left anyway.

Uncle George opened his hands in defeat. "I heard nothing else, Anastasia, you have to believe me."

I paced the space, trying to wrap my head around any kind of clue but none came to mind. No one dared threaten a Love and leave with their head still attached to their body. Unheard of.

"Don't repeat a word to anyone else until I say so, understand?" I barked out, running a hand over my dress.

Uncle George rapidly nodded his head and I ambled to the entryway of the mausoleum, stepping outside.

A zipping sound whizzed past my ear followed by the sound of cracking cement.

A scream broke through the air.

"Shit." I hissed, ducking my head as another bullet lodged itself where my head had been moments before.

My brothers scrambled for me. Atticus's eyes were wide while Elijah remained calm, throwing an arm around Atticus and forcing him to the ground out of sight for the gunman. Jasper looked pissed. More so than usual.

Another whizzing sound brushed past me and I dived for the ground. "Are you fucking kidding me, this is Chanel," I growled thinking of the grass stains that were bound to appear on my dress.

Screams echoed out as people ran for any sort of cover they could find. My father's men searched the view of the cemetery for the gunman or men depending on how many there were.

Why didn't I bring a gun?

Hands hoisted me upright and held my head down, forcing me to run. "Somebody find those fuckers!" Jasper ordered from above me, his hands still on my head.

I tripped over my feet, unable to run across the grass with heels on, my bag smacking into my thigh every step. My body slammed into the cemented wall of the mausoleum around the corner and Jasper stood over me, his whole body shaking with adrenaline.

"Sniper," I informed, keeping my back against the wall. The shots were too precise and quiet to be from a semi-automatic or any close-range gun.

Jasper scoffed. "No shit." I bristled in anger at his words.

A feeling of dread knocked into me when I heard a light thud hit the grass. My hands found the lapels of his blazer and I yanked him to my face. "Where is Atticus?" I demanded, my voice shaking. Blood pounded in my ears as my heart rate sped up.

Jasper spared me a glance. "I'll find him," he hissed.

"Elijah?" My throat closed up, too afraid to say more.

"He decided to run in the directions of the gunshots," he replied, more bothered than worried about our brother.

A blast sounded in the distance. Another bullet hit the corner of the mausoleum, causing shards of cement to explode mere feet from us. Cement dust rained over us. "Get them out," I pleaded, my hands trembling in fear.

Jasper's eyebrows were drawn. He shook my shoulders angrily. "Pull yourself together, Ana," he barked, barely flinching from the chaos around us. He lifted his shirt and showed me his gun, checking the cartridge. "Get to the SUVs. Giovanni is waiting, I'll cover you." He switched off the safety. "Trust no one."

"Be safe." I slipped off my heels, leaving them on the grass, and grabbed the hem of my constricting dress, ripping the bottom to give me more movement. I slung my bag over my shoulder and sprinted down the hill not giving myself a single glance at my surroundings and trusting my brother to protect me.

I jumped over an overturned chair, my foot nearly snagging on a discarded coat, and slid down the hill, keeping my head straight and my feet moving at all times. More shots broke through the continued screams.

Giovanni, Franco's father, waved me over from inside a black SUV with its back door opened, beckoning me to run faster.

"Love, in here!" Giovanni's raspy voice called out.

Someone came up next to me. I threw an arm out to attack but halted a second shy from their face as Franco stared at me with wide eyes. "Get in the car," he ordered, all but shoving me in the backseat.

"Get my brothers out of there!" I yelled out just as the door shut in my face and the car sped down the winding street.

I stared out the window, my heart hammering in my chest as the scenes quickly changed around me.

"Anastasia."

My head whipped to look behind me, where both my parents sat quietly, watching me closely.

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So...what did we think?

So as this is a new book, I love getting to know my readers, so tell me: Where are you from? I'm from South Africa!

Until next time,

Sammipott xx

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