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“And Tatiana, that means nothing. The musical world owes you its gratitude. Please, do not return the check, or I’ll never be able to ask you to sing again.”
I nod gently. What motivates this man is a mystery, one I can’t comprehend. Yet, something tells me that arguing with him to accept a refund is pointless.
I take a sip of champagne to steady my nerves before asking my next question.
"Forgive me if this is too bold, but I can't help wondering...how does a man as young as you come to acquire such wealth and influence?"
Philippe raises an eyebrow, looking amused. He chuckles, his mouth closed with restrained humor. "You think me too young?"
"Not at all," I say quickly. "Only...I know so little of your life."
He nods slowly, considering my question. For a moment, I worry I've offended him.
"The truth is, my family has long been associated with a powerful fraternity in Sicily. We moved to America and set our roots here when I was just a child. When the time comes for my father’s passing, I will be called upon to take his place."
"His place?"
"In the mafia,La Famiglia," he announces without reserve.
My eyes widen as understanding dawns—the Mafia. That explains everything: the convoy of vehicles, the heavy security at the casino and the exorbitant booking fee.
I have heard stories, of course, dark tales of an organization shrouded in secrecy, which controlled the streets and operated outside the law. Yet I never imagined that we would exist side-by-side in the same world.
Philippe watches me closely. "Does this trouble you?"
"I don't know," I whisper, averting my gaze. Stories my parents have told me come to mind.
I remember my dad once telling me of a man being bullied by the local police. He was not bribing them enough to run his legitimate businesses in peace. The mafia helped him. My dad hailed them deity-like that day. Less than a year later, an innocent woman was killed in a mafia drive-by shooting. My dad cursed thembastardos.
What would my adoptive parents think of this? Having moved from Italy to America, they both feared and revered the mafia in equal measure. I take a big gulp of my champagne. Seeing the surprise on my face, Philippe gently continues.
"It's nothing like what you see in Hollywood movies or on TV shows, let me assure you. It's a prestigious organization, rich with traditions that go back centuries. When I accept the role of Don, it will be a show of respect and honor to my ancestors."
My curiosity floods my mind with questions. So, he doesn’t employ enforcers like in the movies? Did his mother knowingly marry a man in the mafia? Were there other mafia present at the casino that night? Are his bodyguards watching us right now?
I flush at the thought and hug my corset to my body, glad for the privacy of the box.
Clearing my throat, I ask timidly, “What is a Don?”
"He is the ruler over his part of The Family. When it’s my turn to step up as Don Accardo, I aim to rule justly and fairly. To keep the tradition alive but keep cruelty at bay. At times, Tatiana, I will make mistakes. But then I wish nothing more than not to repeat them.
Things are changing; the world changes every day, and I hopeLa Famigliacan change with it."
I continue to sip my champagne quietly. Philippe sighs and looks down at his hands. "If this is all too much for you, we can chooseto end what this is now before either of us gets hurt. I need you to know that you always have free will. Would this be the end of the road for us, Tatiana?"
"No, not at all," I answered hastily. "Our past has shaped us all. Parts of which we might not always be proud of.”
Like the anonymous uncle in Russia who so readily gave me up for adoption the moment my parents died. I was left to adapt not only to a new family but also to a completely different language and culture. Who am I to judge the family in which Philippe grew up?
"As a child, I harbored much guilt. It felt as if I was not wanted, and I may have done something to solicit such abandonment. My uncle gave me away after my parents' death without a second thought. I used to imagine him as a cruel, heartless man. The couple he handed me over to emigrated from Italy and took me to America with them.”
Absentmindedly, I let my fingers trace the golden insignia on the back of the red velvet chair in front of me.
"You're adopted?" Philippe raises incredulous eyebrows.
"Yes," I nod. "I don't remember my father. And I have a few vague memories of my mother. Well, of her singing, really. And of my uncle, but I can’t even remember his name. He sent me away when she died. But as I grew older, my adoptive parents helped me to understand that he might have had his reasons for giving me away. Maybe he felt he couldn’t provide for me,or there was some other circumstance beyond his control that forced his hand. I never found out what happened to my parents, though."
Philippe leans in closer, his eyes filled with understanding. "That must have been very difficult for you to have gone through as a child.
