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Now I know there is nothing. Nothing but a wicked and repulsive man left who cares for no one but himself.
Everly
As I pick my body up off the floor, I feel like a bus has hit me. My father really did a number on me. Between the roughing-up that Oliver gave me and then the beating that Dad unleashed on me, I can barely move my sore body. I’m already growing stiff.
Oliver almost raped me, prying my legs open and putting his hands all over my body. His fingers were on the edge of my pussy. I gag as acid rises in my throat.
As much pain as I’m in and I’m hurting badly, I have to get back to the shower. I slowly move toward my bathroom and turn the hot shower back on. As I sit down on the floor and let the scalding water flow over me, I allow my tears to flow.
I feel helpless and hopeless. Where do I go from here? My father traded me to his friend for money like a common whore. I can’t continue living here because it’s not safe. I also refuse to keep working myself to the bone for a man who has no love or respect for his own flesh and blood. Looking back, I can’t figure out why I’ve stayed this long, aside from the fact that he leaves me with no money. Everything I make goes to rent, lights, or into his pocket. Never once has he bought food for me or asked if I needed anything. I have nothing left to live on.
Before my mother died, when I was sixteen years old, my dad worked but was lazy at home. He yelled and fussed at her, and I’ve seen him drunk a few times, where I know he slapped her across the cheek before storming out of the house. I’ve never known him to beat her as severely as he just did me. Mom was a timid woman who tried to make a home for us. She took care of me, cleaned the house, and made a huge dinner on Sundays. She wanted the ideal family life, but my dad just wouldn’t conform. Once they had their fights and he returned home, he would apologize the next day and promise to do better. That would last a week or two, and then he would start drinking again. Mom started having terrible headaches and eventually ended up in the hospital, where they told us she had terminal brain cancer. The last few months, she was bedridden and in a lot of pain. I did what I could to take care of her, but I was still young, and I was terrified. My mother was the only person I had in this world.
My father couldn’t watch her dwindle away and used it as an excuse to drink heavier and to gamble. They repossessed everything we owned, and by that point, Mom was unaware of anything going on. She passed away, and my father acted like it was a regular day. When I called him, he was out at a bar and told me it was for the best that she was gone. I believed him because I didn’t want my mother to suffer, but I also knew I was now well and truly alone. I was a sixteen-year-old kid alone at home when I had to call and report my mother was dead to the police. They had the morgue come and pick up the body. As they left me there in the house alone, I realized I had to take care of myself because my father would not do it. The water running out of the shower head has turned cold, and my teeth chatter as I shiver.
I reach up, turn the water off, and wrap a clean towel around my body. I’m afraid to enter my room after what happened with Oliver, but I don’t have any clean clothes. I noticed my work clothes on the bathroom floor and reach over to pick them up as a dollar bill falls from the pocket. I reach in and grab the wad of money.
I forgot I got paid today! My father doesn’t know I have this money yet, and I know exactly how I’m going to use it.
Gio
My cell rings, and I see that it’s my father. “Hello.”
“Son, meeting in my office now.”
“I will be there in twenty.” I hang up, knowing whatever he has to say, I won’t like.
My father has been pushing me to get married recently. He wants to retire and travel with Mom. He has drilled into my head that to inherit the Martinelli empire, I need to be a family man. He wants me to be married with at least one heir.
He and my mom would love as many grandchildren as my sister and I can give them. You would think with him heading the Italian mafia that he wouldn’t be a family man, but that’s not the case. My dad has raised me and my sister to be good family people. Always put family first. He made sure that I knew to treat women and children with respect. Unless a woman is evil and a threat to the people that we love, then we don’t hurt women. We especially don’t hurt innocent children.
Aldo Martinelli took over the Martinelli empire from his father, who came over to the States from Italy. My grandfather ran the mafia family in the old country. He has been a good father to me and my younger sister, Serena.
My mom, Valerie Martinelli, married my dad in an arranged marriage when she turned eighteen. As messed up as that sounds, it worked out for them because, unlike most men in the mafia, my dad doesn’t believe in taking mistresses. There is no cheating in my family, but there is also no divorce. Unfortunately, that doesn’t bode well for some couples who never fall in love. My parents are lucky that they are madly in love and fiercely loyal.
My dad had to find the balance between being a loving and good father to me and raising me with the toughness that it takes to kill a man without having a conscience. I’ve killed many, and the people who I’ve killed were shitty and deserved to die.
We don’t traffick human beings. We also don’t do business with anyone who does.
As I stroll into my father’s large and opulent office, I see he is not alone. Sitting in the chairs in front of his desk are an older man around my father’s age and a woman that I know well.
Carla and her father, Mario Esposito. Carla has tried to get me to marry her for years. She is a spoiled little mafia princess, and everything about her is fake. Fake hair color, fake nails, fake tits. She just wants me for the power and money it will provide her. She already lives that lifestyle, but if she wants to keep it, she is expected to marry into another family at least as powerful or more than her own. An arranged marriage would provide her with that.
My father is a man in his sixties. He is always wearing an expensive suit, and even when it has splatters of blood, he looks like he just walked out ofGQmagazine. Today, as he sits behind his ostentatious mahogany desk in his expensive executive chair, he has a serious look on his face. I know I will not like what he’s going to say as dread fills my stomach.
“Father.”
“Gio, come in. Mario and Carla have come to me with a proposal that I think you should consider.”
My eyes land heavily on Mario and Carla. “Mario, Carla. Nice to see you both."
"Hear them out, Son." My father's voice is low and appeasing.
“Gio.” Mario greets me.
Then Carla calls my name with her nasally, high-pitched, and piercing voice that makes me cringe. Every time this woman speaks, it’s like someone is scraping a chalkboard.
“Gio, I’ve been calling and texting you, and it always goes to voicemail. When are you going to return my calls?” Carla chides.
