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Since the night with Francesco.
“Go on, child.”
“The bastard I’ll be forced to marry will keep me locked away. I’m certain of it. He’ll beat me just like my father.” I might as well jump into the quicksand with two feet.
There was another slight glitch in his voice or maybe a cough. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Who is requiring you to marry this man? Your father?”
“Yes, the horrible son of a bitch. I’m sorry, Father. I’m just angry. I used to think my papa loved me. He protected me after my mother’s murder, but he needs me to pay off his debt. Or infuse capital into his business. It doesn’t matter, does it? Should I be required to marry something I don’t love who will do nothing but hurt me?”
His exhale almost made me smile. That had to be a sin in itself. I leaned my head against the thin wood of the vestibule, fighting to keep from laughing hysterically.
“Child. I am very sorry that you have this kind of relationship with your flesh and blood. Is there anyone else in your family who can help you?”
“No, sir. I have no one. I also don’t know anyone in town so there is no one to turn to.” A sob rose from my throat, the horrible realization that I had no one to turn to finally settling in. There was nothing I could do. Nothing. “I’m sorry, Father. I know it’s a sin to love another man, but he was my first and my only. I love him but I’ll never find him. It was so long ago. We did things, passionate things. He made me feel alive after the first time my father tried to marry me off the day I turned eighteen. My birthday. Can you believe that?”
I was openly crying now, getting close to becoming hysterical. I had to find a way to control myself.
He sighed and I sensed he’d leaned forward. “I can offer you sanctuary for the night until we can get you a suitable shelter. I work with one that I believe can help you. Unfortunately, that is all I am allowed to do.”
“Thank you, Father,” I said, still choking on the depth of my sadness. “But even you can’t help me. I’m wearing an ankle bracelet like I’m a criminal while my father and the horrible mafia man I’m supposed to marry go free. I don’t know why I’m here. I just don’t know. But know I am not repenting my mortal sin of engaging in sexual activities with a man I wasn’t married to. He was my everything. He’s here somewhere in this city. I will find him. I think he’s the only one who can help.”
The priest’s sigh was as comforting as his voice was deep and there was no sound of chastisement, only concern.
“I will not ask you for atonement, child. You’re going through enough. I will suggest that you seek help from the local authorities.”
“I’m sorry, Father. Apparently, you don’t understand that the police and every other form of law enforcement are owned by the syndicate in New York, Chicago, and every major city. That’s the way it works. I know it well. Sadly, better than most.” I allowed the tears to fall for a few additional minutes before sucking in my breath, refusing to allow my father to get away with breaking me down. That was the least I could do for myself.
“May God, who has enlightened every heart, help you to know your sins and trust in his mercy.”
“Amen. Thank you for listening. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I’m not a good Catholic girl.” Before I had a chance to say anything else that could possibly get him into trouble or worse, I fled the box, rushing toward the doors.
“Wait. Please allow me to help you. I will find a way.” The priest was close behind, tugging on my arm.
I turned sharply and the look of horror on his handsome face was as terrifying as the experience. My lip was swollen, the taste of blood remaining. I backed away, offering a smile before fleeing.
As I told the kind man, there was no one who could help me.
No one.
CHAPTER 15
Francesco
“What’s your poison tonight, Father?” I asked, grinning at my best friend as soon as he entered my basement. I’d renovated the entire five thousand square foot basement of my estate into what most people would call a man cave. The highly secure location wasn’t readily found unless you knew what you were looking for or had knowledge of the building plans.
Almost four thousand square feet had been transformed into an entertainment area complete with a full-size mahogany bar, a regulation size pool table, foosball, three pinball machines, several televisions, a media room, and of course the best music system on the market.
The other one thousand square feet held a weapons room and a vault that also wasn’t on any plans, only I didn’t keep valuables inside. It had been prepped in case the house was compromised, the area able to withstand a raging fire, firearms, and every other disaster.
Our usual two-week gathering was all about decompressing and spending time with my buddy drinking and playing pool. It gave me time to shove aside the drudgery of work, the long hours and constantly being on edge taking a toll. We both needed it.
Dominick Saltori was without a doubt the coolest priest in all of New York. If it hadn’t been for his friendship and his determination to keep me from flying off the rails after Joey’s death, I would have taken out half of New York City. I was certain of it. He’d also helped me embrace Max’s arrival long before he ever considered becoming a man of God.
Some might think our friendship was odd, but we’d grown up together, including attending boarding school. We’d been bad-asses then, getting into trouble often while ruling every school with the same kind of brutal tactics I did with my soldiers today.
