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“Also, your grandpa just got here. I know you’ve been anxious to talk to him. I’m sure you have so many questions for him - for us both. I think today will be good for all of us. We can discuss the past and hopefully put it all behind us. I’m so tired of living in the past. I just want to have as much time as I can with you now.” She hesitantly takes the initiative to walk into my room and sits on my bed.
“I wish you would talk to me. I’d love to know what I’ve done that made you shut down the way you have. It’s killing me that I’ve hurt you somehow.” She pushes some hair out of my face to look at me better.
I’ll admit, I don’t want to be mad at her but it feels like she’s keeping so much from me and all of it is really, really bad. How could she sit by and let me get sold off to someone? What does she have to gain from it? I’ve heard a lot of shit about the mafia from growing up on the streets of Chicago. I know that females are of no consequence to them. They aren’t highly revered or respected. They are often toys - playthings to be used. Maybe even seen, but never heard. How can my grandpa sell me to the highest bidder? It’s so gross.
“I need you to be really honest with me right now mom.” I stare at her dead on, watching for even the slightest hint of deception.
“Do you know about the arranged marriage? Do you know about the deal made by your grandpa? The one that essentially marries me off like I’m property and not a human fucking being. I mean, you have to know who your dad is and what he does. What does he have to say about all of this? Why would he do this to me?”
I watch her eyes widen and then her face crumble under the weight of my words, as she registers everything I’ve just said. Her mouth trembles and her eyes water, but she breathes deep to control herself.
She didn’t know.
She regains her composure as she connects the dots. I can see her mind working in overdrive as she takes the information I’ve just been given and pieces it together with the things she does know.
“No.”
Just one word. Just one statement. She’s on my side. I can read the fierce determination in her gaze.
“That will not happen. I do know of some of it but I thought it had been taken care of. I wasn’t aware that the contracts were still of consequence. I don’t care what anyone says or what deals were made. We’ll talk to your grandpa. There’s no way he’d agree to this. He’ll know what to do. I know you have no reason to trust or believe me when you’ve clearly put some of the puzzle together on your own. There are a great many secrets within our family, but your grandfather is a unique individual. It’s an unpopular opinion, but he believes in family over la famiglia. He has much respect for women, which is highly uncommon in la Cosa Nostra. Don’t misunderstand, he is not one to underestimate, but he also understands the importance of family. We have too little of it left for it not to be a priority. You, sweet girl, are our priority. Get up and get ready. I’ll meet you downstairs. Take your time.”
She gets up and walks to my door, turning around to say,
“we’ll figure this out together. I love you.” she smiles at me and then starts shutting the door behind her. Only once my door is firmly shut do I whisper back.
“I love you too mama.”
Chapter Thirteen
Alessandra
After taking my sweet time showering and finding an old outfit from my Chicago days, black ripped skinny jeans and a black midriff tank covered by an open oversized plaid red and black button up, with my go-to combat boots and knife, I throw my hair up in a topknot and figure that this is as good as it is gonna get. Part of me feels like it’s armor.
It takes me back to the days that I was fighting for my life daily. It’s a reminder that this new fancy world isn’t actually me. I’m in control of my life and I can play dirty if need be. Squaring my shoulders and relaxing my face into a neutral expression, I brace myself to meet a real life mob boss and walk down the stairs. Passing through the foyer, I hear yelling off to the right. As I follow the sound I hear that mom is the one yelling.
“How dare you come into my home! All this time and you knew where she was. You knew who took my baby away from me! How dare you deny it. You’re trying to tell me that you didn’t orchestrate this whole thing and didn’t try to get Lauren fucking Davis to kill my daughter?!”
“It wasn’t fucking me!” A man’s voice yells back.
“You had better believe that I’ll find that that’s the truth or I will make you fucking pay for every moment you took her away from me, you evil son of a bitch. You have two seconds to get out of my house! Get out before I fucking shoot you!” My mom is basically snarling, from the sounds of it.
I make a run for moms office and burst through the door just as mom whips a gun from a thigh holster she had under her dress. I fall back into my natural defensive stance, grabbing up my knife, ready to help mom take on anyone. Scanning the room, I see a very tall, handsome older man with dark hair, only slightly graying at the temples, looking vicious standing to face off with another man who appears to be my mom’s age. He’s holding his hand out to mom, palm towards her, as if to say, “Not yet.” The guy looks familiar but I don’t have time to think about that now since mom has her gun trained on him with a look to kill in her eyes.
“Someone needs to explain what’s going on! Right now!”
I yell into the room. Three pairs of eyes swing my way, two sets of them matching my own, both of them exuding a fury that I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of. One set of eyes looks my way and I almost stumble back at the brunt force behind the green eyes I know so well. Only these ones have a few more creases surrounding them. This man is Matteo’s father. It’s clear as day, he’s almost a spitting image of the young devil, himself. Those eyes though, they glow with malevolence toward me in a way that his son’s never have, even at his worst. This man is pure evil and he hates me. He masks it well enough, but I can sense it with every fiber of my being. It sends a shiver down my spine and I do everything I can to conceal it from his disturbing gaze.
“Ah, here she is. You’ve turned out to be quite a beauty. I see why my son is so taken with you. You look much like your mother at that age.” he leers at me, lust clouding his stare. Whether it’s at me or memories of my mom, I’m unsure. It’s fucking disgusting either way.
“First of all, I’m not a piece of meat. My eyes are up here” I point at my face.
“Secondly, I don’t give a single fuck who you are or if your son is the goddamn King of England, I have no interest. It appears as though you’ve overstayed your welcome. Now, unless you’d like my lovely mother here to shoot you where you stand, I suggest you get the fuck out.” I keep my voice low and level and I keep my head high.
If I've learned anything, it’s that you don’t show men like this weakness. You own who you are and what you say, then you back it the fuck up.
“Make sure you don’t come back this way.” I hear the older man growl with a slight lilt of an Italian accent.
“If you do, bring an army because it will mean war.”
