CHAPTER FOUR
francesca
AGE 24
Strobe lights flashed over the crowded dance floor, casting pulses of white and neon throughout the room. Bodies moved in chaotic synchrony, a mass of heat and noise that blurred into a single, indistinct entity. Somewhere in the haze, a man I preferred to forget leaned in close, his cologne sharp and overwhelming. His hand brushed my arm, a calculated touch meant to seem accidental, but it only made me want to recoil.
“Hey beautiful,”
he murmured, his voice thick with false charm, “Are you having fun?”
Fun. I plastered on the smile I’d perfected over the last few years, a saccharine curve of my lips that didn’t reach my eyes. “Always.”
The lie rolled off my tongue as easily as his name, which I’d already forgotten.
He grinned, satisfied, and ordered another round of shots. The bartender nodded, moving with practiced efficiency, and soon, a row of tiny glasses filled with amber liquid lined the bar. I didn’t wait for the toast or whatever half-baked attempt at camaraderie he had planned. I tossed back the shot, feeling the tequila burn scorch my throat. It hit my stomach like a match to gasoline, and for a moment, it was almost enough to distract me.
Almost.
“Damn, Frankie,”
another voice chimed in. This one belonged to a girl—blonde, pretty, and easily forgettable. She laughed too loudly, leaning against the bar as if my presence validated her existence. “You’re a machine! I’m not sure how you’re not falling over.”
I twirled a lock of my dark hair around my finger, allowing the faux-na?ve smile to take over. “Practice.”
The crowd laughed, sycophantic and eager, their voices a dull roar that barely registered. They loved me here. Not for who I was, but for what I represented: Francesca Santelli, mafia princess. A walking headline. I was their ticket to a story they could share with their friends, a brush with danger and glamour that made their own lives feel less ordinary. Or perhaps they’d catch a glimpse of my brother and his friends, the mobsters.
I hated them for it.
The floor vibrated beneath my heels as the DJ’s latest mix heightened the club’s energy. I pushed away from the bar and allowed the crowd to envelop me. The pulsating beat became my only guide. On the dance floor, I released everything. My body moved with practiced abandon, a performance refined by countless nights like this.
A man’s hands grasped my hips, drawing me closer. I didn’t look back. I didn’t care who he was. To him, I was a fantasy brought to life, untouchable yet tantalizingly near. To me, he was nothing more than a shadow.
The music surged, and I raised my hands, spinning in sync with the rhythm. My dress caught the lights, sparkling like a second skin, and I felt the crowd’s gaze follow my every move. They always watched.
I drained another drink, the ice clinking against the glass as I tipped it back. The buzz dulled the edges of my reality, smoothing out the jagged truths I refused to confront—the truth that my life wasn’t mine. I was a pawn in a game I hadn’t chosen to play.
My future had been sold, a union forged in blood and business. I hadn’t revealed to Angelo that I knew. That secret was mine, a small shard of power I clung to in the face of everything that had been taken away.
Now, I screamed in silence, drowning myself in music, liquor, and the endless parade of faces that blurred into obscurity. I played my part to perfection: the spoiled princess, reckless and wild, untouchable and unattainable.
But beneath the glitter and glamour, I was falling apart. I drank, partied, crashed cars, and shopped. I waited to be married off.
The song ended, and I stumbled off the floor; the cool air by the bar was a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the crowd. Someone handed me a drink—someone I didn’t know or care about. I took it, sipping absently as my gaze drifted over the sea of strangers.
They all wanted something from me: my attention, my name, my story. None of them saw me—the real me, hidden beneath layers of pretense and pain. And I had ensured that.
I leaned against the bar, allowing my mask to slip for a brief moment. I caught sight of my reflection in the mirrored wall behind the liquor shelves. The girl staring back at me was beautiful, flawless, and utterly hollow. Her makeup was perfect, her hair styled at the finest salons, her nails manicured… but she was dead inside.
The bartender’s voice pierced my thoughts. “Another round, princess?”
“Sure,”
I finally said, flashing him a smile. “Why not?”
The night stretched on, an endless cycle of dancing, drinking, and drowning. I let it consume me because the alternative was too terrifying to confront. If this was my rebellion, my fleeting grasp at freedom, I would burn bright enough to leave an afterimage before plunging into the abyss.
“Why not, indeed,”
a voice said from beside me. I turned and found a man with sharp features and a lazy smirk. He was handsome in a careless, dangerous way—the type who lived for the moment and didn’t care about the consequences.
“Want to get out of here?”
I didn’t ask for his name. I didn’t want to know. He grabbed my hand, leading me out of the club, past the line of gawking onlookers, and into the cool night air. I knew better than to leave with a stranger, but I didn’t care. My brain felt like it was short-circuiting at that moment. When his car pulled up to the curb by the valet, it didn’t surprise me that it screamed money and recklessness.
“Where are we going?”
I asked as he held the passenger door open for me.
“Do you actually care?”
Shaking my head, I slid into the seat, the leather cold against my skin. He slammed the door shut before rounding the car and climbing in. The engine roared to life, and we shot into the night. The city lights a blur of color and chaos around us.
We were both drunk. I could feel it in how he laughed too loudly and took turns too quickly, in the way my head swam and my words slurred. The adrenaline of the ride mixed with the alcohol in my veins, creating a heady, dangerous cocktail that made me feel invincible.
I didn’t feel any sense of alarm until the car slowed to a stop in a seedy part of town. Pulling at the edge of my dress, I glanced around with discomfort.
“This doesn’t seem like the best place to stop. Maybe you should take me back to the club.”
“I don’t think so.”
The words were laced with malice now. There was no trace of seduction, and I realized I had been a fool, even as I tried to shake off the alcohol buzzing through my veins. My hand reached for the handle, even as his head tilted mockingly. “Locked, Francesca.”
“What do you want?”
I asked, although I already knew, even as my fingers fumbled with the fastening of my clutch. He had revealed part of it by addressing me by my name.
“You don’t know who I am?”
his lips curled.
He had a handsome quality that didn’t make him stand out at the club. He was forgettable. If I had to describe him to someone, I would struggle to provide any details that wouldn’t immediately place him among thousands of other men. My stomach churned as I shook my head.
“I don’t. I’m sorry. Please let me go. I won’t say a word to anyone,”
I said desperately. He knew it was a lie. I pressed my fingers deeper into my clutch, reaching for the knife that my brothers made me carry.
“We’re just going to have a little fun.”
His mouth twisted into a venomous grin, and he was no longer handsome. “You looked great on that dance floor,”
he crooned. “Sexy.”
His hand reached out and grasped the skin of my knee, moving upward as I scrambled to escape from him. A sickening chill swept over me.
“Wait. I… want you to let me out.”
His lips curled into a malicious smile. “I’m going to enjoy this. I brought you here just for this moment. All of you, Santellis, are scum. Scream all you want.”
My hand clenched, sweat breaking out as I fought to stay still and not scream or lurch away. He fully intended to rape me. It was clear on his face. I wouldn’t let that happen. I’d fight with everything I had.
“Don’t. Please don’t.”
He lurched over the console, pressing his hands against the back of my hair, twisting hard enough to bring tears to my eyes as he ground his mouth to mine. His hands tore at my dress just before I instinctively brought up the knife as Angelo had taught me and drove it into the side of his neck, watching in horror as he struggled to pull back, yanking at it until he managed it. Blood sprayed from the wound as he held a hand to it, his eyes round with horror.
Was he dead? I had just wanted him to stop.
“I …”
I stuttered. “I…”
My hands were clasped to my mouth as I watched the blood spurt against the interior of the car as I shrank as far away as I could. He was dead in minutes. “Fuck. What do I do? What do I do?”
I babbled out loud. I’d killed someone. “Oh my God.”
Okay. This was a disaster. The car, the dead body, my dress—all of it was terrible. My brother dealt with dead people, so I should call him, right? Right. My fingers hovered over his name, hesitating before changing direction.
Theo picked up immediately.
“What’s up, babe?”
Her gum popped loudly on the line, a habit she’d developed that I despised.
“I need you to tell me what to do.”
I turned my face to look out the window. Thankfully, the asshole had parked down a side street, and his windows were tinted, so hopefully, nobody would notice the car. I could move it, I suppose, but then I’d have to get on his side of the car.
“Okay,”
she drawled. “About?
“I might have killed someone.”
“Might have?”
she popped another bubble.
“Did. I did kill someone.”
My breath came in sharp gasps. “A guy.”
“Are you okay, Frankie? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”
“No.”
The words emerged shakily, and I fought to hold back tears, knowing that once I began, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
“Who is it?”
She popped another bubble as if I were boring her.
“I don’t know.”
Well, fuck. I went with this man and didn’t even know his first name. I stared at his pale face and that shock of hair across his forehead, the hand that had slipped limply from his neck smeared with blood.
“Well, does he have a wallet?”
There was a pause on the line, then she whispered, “Did you really kill someone?”
I couldn’t tell if there was admiration or disgust in her voice.
“I really did. I’m going to hell.”
I sniffed.
“You aren’t going to hell. If you killed someone, you did it for a reason. Fuck that guy. Look for a wallet,”
she ordered. “Don’t cry. We got this.”
“Okay.”
I tried to motivate myself. “We got this. I got this.”
Theo was right. I could handle this. “Hang on. Gross.”
I placed the phone on speaker and tried not to gag as I opened the suit jacket and pulled the wallet from the inside pocket. “His name is… Goddamn it. Fausto Oliveto.”
I double-checked the license.
I threw my head back against the seat. This was bad news. I could hear Theo cursing on the line. The Olivetos were one of the five Italian mafia families in New York. There was always infighting in the city, especially among the Italian crews. I didn’t know enough about my brother’s business to understand if there were issues with the Olivetos, but I didn’t want any to start because of me.
“I didn’t have a choice, Theo. He was going to rape me,”
I confessed. “I swear.
“Pin your location. I’ll be right there. We’re going to handle this. Tell no one else. Nobody, Frankie. Do not involve your brother. He needs total deniability.”
She hung up abruptly, leaving me to sit with the weight of my crime and the actions that had led to it.
All my partying had led to this, I thought gloomily. If I hadn’t been so drunk, I wouldn’t have been so careless. A kernel of anger sat in my gut as I looked at the man, and I tried to ignore that way of thinking. I wasn’t involved in my family’s business, but he knew who I was. He could claim that I was drawing attention to myself, but that was bullshit. This wasn’t my fault. Still, the body steamed, and the blood dripped with accusation.
Headlights pulled up thirty-five nerve-wracking minutes later, and my phone rang.
“Alright, here’s the plan. I’ll send you to a location, and I need you to follow me there.”
“Theo,”
I whimpered. “The body is in the way.”
I glanced at the chilling body draped in the seat beside me. How on earth was I supposed to move it?
“You’ll need to figure it out. I guess you should get between the window and the body and shove it over to create enough space for yourself to drive. It’s not far,”
she said sympathetically.
It took longer than expected to move the corpse enough for me to start the car. My muscles ached, and my stomach churned, but I had managed it. Theo’s taillights blinked as I followed her, eventually stopping in an empty lot near the abandoned warehouses.
Theo’s car door opened, and she knocked on my window. “Open up.”
With trembling knees, I climbed out of the vehicle, ignoring her gasp as I staggered, nearly falling flat on my face.
“Holy shit, Frankie.”
Her mouth formed an ‘O’ of surprise, staring at me with disbelief. I knew it looked bad.
“I know.”
I turned towards the car, where she swiveled between me and the body of Fausto Oliveto, who I’d managed to half-shove into the next seat (somewhat). The interior was splattered with blood on the driver’s side, across the dash, down along the mats, and the instrument panel.
Theo raised her hands and pressed them firmly against her eyes. “It’s like one of those Halloween haunted houses, for Christ’s sake.”
She took a deep breath as I looked helplessly at Oliveto, once again weighing whether I should risk calling my brother. “Okay, strip.”
She set a bag down at my feet. I peered inside with skepticism.
“Strip,”
she ordered, and I realized for the first time what she was wearing. She had dressed in painter’s coveralls complete with booties and plastic gloves. Her hair was pulled back tightly and covered with a hairnet. She wasn’t messing around. “Everything Frankie.”
I followed Theo’s instructions, dropping my clothes onto the pavement in a trembling heap and stepping into the coveralls she had brought for me. The stiff fabric had a faint chemical smell, and I fought the urge to shudder as I twisted my hair back into a taut ponytail, tucking it under a hairnet like hers. Every movement felt surreal, but Theo’s sharp focus grounded me. She was intelligent and methodical—if she had a plan, I trusted her to follow through with it.
While I struggled with the coveralls, she hauled two red gas cans from the trunk of her car, the smell of gasoline trailing behind her like a ghost. In her other hand, she gripped a canister of lighter fluid. The sharp tang of it stung my nose as she set them down with purpose.
“Here’s the plan,”
she said, her voice crisp and devoid of hesitation. “We’re moving the body to the driver’s seat.”
I swallowed hard and nodded, my body moving on autopilot as I followed her toward the car. The night air pressed against my skin, heavy with the acrid stench of gasoline and something more sinister—death.
Theo positioned herself on one side of the car, signaling me to take the opposite. “Pull,”
she commanded, her tone unwavering. “I’ll push.”
My hands shook as I grasped Fausto’s lifeless form, my stomach twisting into knots. His weight was suffocating, and his limbs had begun to stiffen with rigor mortis. Together, we struggled and maneuvered, both of us trying to breathe through our mouths to block the stench that clung to him like a foul perfume.
Theo gritted her teeth, her jaw set as she shoved harder. I pulled with all the strength I could muster, wincing as his body slumped awkwardly into the driver’s seat. The silence afterward was deafening, broken only by our shallow breaths and the faint crackle of gravel underfoot.
Theo straightened, brushing her gloved hands against her coveralls as she glanced around with hawk-like precision. “Okay, Frankie,”
she said briskly. “We need to make sure you didn’t leave anything behind. Your purse, your phone—anything that could link us to this.”
I blinked, my mind sluggishly processing her words before jerking into motion. I scanned the ground, my heart hammering as I retraced every frantic step I’d taken earlier. Gravel crunched underfoot as I circled the car, scanning for even the smallest hint of evidence. “The knife,”
I said suddenly, the realization clawing at my chest.
“Where?”
Theo asked sharply, her eyes narrowing.
“I—I don’t know. I think it fell when he pulled it out of his neck when?—”
She cut me off with a curt nod. “Find it.”
Panic simmered just beneath my skin as I crouched, trying to avoid touching anything. My fingers finally closed around the familiar handle, slick and warm from the evening heat. “Got it,”
I whispered, holding it up for her inspection.
“Good.”
Theo’s voice softened just a fraction. “Now, let’s finish this.”
We rifled through the car quickly, working in tense silence as we checked for anything else that might incriminate me. Theo was thorough, her sharp eyes darting over every surface, her hands methodically sweeping under seats and into crevices. Satisfied, she stood and nodded toward the pile of my discarded clothes.
“Throw them in,”
she ordered.
I hesitated for a moment, staring at the crumpled heap of fabric on the ground. They felt like the last remnants of normalcy, but I knew they couldn’t stay. I picked them up with trembling hands and tossed them onto the driver’s seat, the material settling over Oliveto’s body like a shroud.
Theo unscrewed the cap of a gas can and began pouring, the pungent scent of gasoline filling the air in waves as she soaked the car’s interior. She handed me the lighter fluid. “Cover the outside,”
she instructed.
I followed her lead, squeezing the bottle until the liquid splashed over the hood and dripped down the sides. By the time we stepped back, the car reeked of fuel, its surface glistening in the dim light.
Theo struck a match and dropped it onto the soaked upholstery. The flame ignited instantly, roaring to life and spreading with alarming speed. We both stumbled back, shielding our faces as the heat surged toward us in a wave of blistering intensity.
“Jesus,”
I gasped as the fire’s fury took my breath away.
Theo coughed and wiped her forehead, her eyes wide with surprise. “I didn’t think it would happen so quickly.”
“It’s so hot,”
I muttered, my voice shaking as the flames engulfed the car.
“We may have overdone it,”
Theo admitted her tone a mixture of awe and grim satisfaction.
“Where did you get all this?”
I asked, glancing at the gas cans now lying abandoned on the ground.
Theo hesitated, biting her lip before answering. “I borrowed it from your brother’s garage earlier. I figured it would be easier than buying it somewhere that might have cameras.”
She flashed me an easy grin as I tried to ignore the stench coming from the car. “I disabled the security at your house and the cameras there, too. Perks of being your best friend.”
I stared at her, a blend of disbelief and reluctant gratitude swirling in my chest. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m practical,”
she retorted, her gaze fixed on the inferno. The fire crackled and roared, smoke billowing into the night sky like a dark beacon. “Now, let’s hope this erases everything.”
We lingered for a moment longer, the heat pressing against our skin as we watched the evidence of my crime turn to ash.
“We’ve got to get out of here. This will take care of it. Let’s go.”
Later, as we lay clean and curled up in a bed at her brother’s place, she told me she handled the security footage at the club. Theo didn’t go into detail, but I was glad she had thought of it.
“We can never be sure. No one knows except us. Promise me.”
Theo turned her body toward me, squeezing my hands in hers. “We deny, deny, deny.”
“I promise. Thank you for helping me. I wasn’t sure what to do.”
“It’s over now. You’re fine. I’m fine. Otherwise, it would have escalated into war, and our brothers don’t need that.”
That was true. They had a lot on their plate, and the last thing I wanted was to be the spark for a conflict between my brother and anyone else. But…
“Theo?”
“Yeah?”
“I never imagined I would kill anyone.”
“I know.”
There was pity and compassion in her voice.
“I feel bad.”
“I know,”
she nodded.
“I will find a way to make it right. I have to.”