13. Amara
AMARA
PAWN OR QUEEN?
W ith Pietro at the family wedding, I have an easy night ahead of me, so I seize the opportunity to meet with my father before work.
It's better to give him this small victory than to anger him when he’s already pissed off.
My disappearing act sent him over the edge because he’s used to knocking me around to get what he wants.
Men like my father are merciless and act like spoiled children. If he’s not immediately appeased, he resorts to violence. Ever since I was a little girl, I plotted to run away. I hated my father’s anger, and I hated living in fear even more.
I nervously rub the scar on my right arm and take a deep breath as I exit the subway tunnel. The air is cold, but the sun is warm. My life ceases to exist inside the familiar dark underworld.
Will I ever escape my family's untoward control over my life? I don't want to know the answer, honestly. I've been fighting against him and this life since I was a child, and it never ends in my favor, so why should today be any different?
I walk a few blocks and stop in front of the Italian restaurant that serves as a front. I push the door open and walk to the back. I nod to the guards as I approach his office door. Elio pats me down.
“It’s just a formality,” he murmurs, feeling my legs and patting my pockets. Then, he looks inside my purse, which I have slung diagonally over my shoulders to prevent muggers from ripping it off me.
“Satisfied?” I tersely mutter, but Elio is only doing his job as my father’s right-hand man, and I’m just angry.
“You’re good.” He nods to another guard who opens the office door, and I walk into the cave that was built on blood, tears, and death.
My father stands when I enter. “Amara, come in!” he barks, extending a hand to the seat across from him.
Yeah, like this meeting is going to bode well for me. I know to avoid him when he’s pissed, but now that his voice drips saccharine-laced greetings and an open arm of sorts, it’s unnerving. I’m terrified because he’s never been nice to me.
But then again, he never needed me for a business deal.
He’s never been on the receiving end of violent retaliation before. I’m sure he’s livid over the lost revenue, and you’d think he’d learn his lesson. But no. He’s impervious to any thought that isn’t his own.
He’ll never see the world through my eyes.
I’d be happy to have the upper hand for once, but I know better. It’s only a matter of time before he’ll find a way to shit on my parade. We both know the ending to this story, and even as I carry the delusion that I can escape him, I know that in the end, I can’t.
His men have spent their lifetime honing their skills in corruption. What was I thinking?
I can’t beat them on any level.
“You wanted to see me,” I reply as I move inside the room, but I stand just inside the door that clicks behind me.
“Come, sit.” He gestures toward a chair as he takes his seat behind the large desk that’s too big for the room, but it dwarfs him in comparison.
“I’m not staying long.”
“That’s a shame. You should come home and have dinner with the family. Your mother would love to see you.”
Perhaps. But I don’t want to see her. I don’t understand how she could sacrifice me. Her only saving grace for being in my life is the fact that I know my father isn’t opposed to beating her like he does me. Her need for self-preservation made me a captive to the vile man standing before me.
“I’m fine.”
He nods. “I suppose you want to know what’s happening.
You know, you should be more careful of the company you keep.
Men want one thing from women, and when they get it, they will toss you aside like you’re trash.
The Borrellis are no different. Men in the mafia don’t know love.
They were born to rule and to control. Made men will only use you, knock you up for an heir, and toss you aside.
Pietro will never love you. He’ll never marry you.
You need to let go of this childhood fantasy that the bad boy will be different with you or for you. ”
Great. If I had to guess, he’s probably had men spying on me, and I assume he knows I fucked Pietro. The takeaway is that he’s spoken about my worst fears, which is that the Borrellis are a mafia family, too.
I’m so fucked. What am I? LoJack for felons? Why can’t I meet a normal man?
But there’s no time to lament my doomed love life. I stare into my father’s eyes.
“Right. Well. You’ve put the family in a bad position. You must marry Milo?’s brother, Vukan, before they torch my stash houses.” His voice is void of emotion. He’s stating a fact that he expects to become a reality at the snap of his fingers.
This is rich coming from him. Putting the ‘family’ in danger, my ass!
“You put the family in danger—you and Uncle Vincenzu. You went into human trafficking, not me. You are in bed with the Serbs, and I detest them and what they do for money. Over my dead body!”
He leaps to his feet and smashes his fist on the desk. “That can be arranged if you refuse me,” he yells.
I refuse to fear him and stave off my shudder. I have nothing left to lose. Either way, I’m dead. Dead inside with a man I don’t love, or six feet under.
“You really think Vukan will welcome me with gratitude after your men blew his ring wide open? I’m not stupid. I know your hands are dirty with the blood of innocent women. ”
“Enough,” he barks, and I notice his face turning red.
“I’m not your bitch. I won’t be a part of your shitshow anymore. I’m not a Morretti!”
“You’re my blood. That’s all that matters,” he yells, and the veins on the side of his neck engorge.
He’s overweight, and I know he’s on blood pressure medication.
His face is beaded with perspiration, but the room is cold.
He loosens the second and third buttons on his dress shirt.
He cranes his neck, searching for comfort in a gesture that doesn’t deliver.
“I no longer do your bidding. I don’t take money or orders from you.” I stand and cross my arms in defiance.
He leans over the desk and is silent for a beat.
“I’m the head of the family, and you are to do as you are told. Time is of the essence. Each day you fuck around costs me thousands of dollars, and my men have died as a result of your actions. You will do this for me so our families will have peace.”
“I’m your daughter, not a piece of meat to be toyed with and bartered off to absolve you of your crimes. There has to be another way.”
“There isn’t. Marriage is a sacred union that will hold our families accountable and lead to a peaceful future. I’ve been pushing them off, and at a great cost, but they aren’t patient. Trust me, the Serbs will do terrible things to you if you don’t do this.”
“You mean they will do terrible things to you?” I scoff.
“ENOUGH of your insolence!” he yells. The walls shake, and my hands tremble.
“You will do as you are told!” And with that, his face contorts, and he clutches his chest before he crashes head-first into the desk and crumples to the ground with a heavy thud.
The sound of him hitting the desk was enough to make me nauseous, but when he hit the floor, Elio rushed in, with others following in his wake.
“Call 911,” Elio barks to a man as he rolls my father on his side.
“I didn’t do anything,” I say before I turn and run. I run through the restaurant and into the street. I run until I can’t breathe.
I don’t know if he’ll live or die. I stop, bending over as I hyperventilate .
What do I do now?
I walk without direction. His voice echoes in my mind. I can’t forget his ominous warning. It drones on like a broken record. “Mafia men will use you and toss you aside. He’ll never marry you.”
So he’s been keeping tabs on me, and now he thinks I’m wrapped up with a bad boy.
Is he wrong? I’m not so sure anymore.
My stomach is twisting. The deep, threatening voice of my father’s threats alarms me because I know the Serbs will do worse things to me than my father. His comments about Pietro can’t be true, can they?
But underneath his devilish smile and silken words, who is Pietro?
He’s got to be in the mafia, and I realize what my father said must be true. His words sum up my mother’s life. She’s been relegated to second fiddle because Dad keeps a mistress tucked away in an apartment just around the corner.
Milo? is the devil incarnate. His brother can’t be much better.
My blood runs cold. I’m no match for my father, but I’d fare even worse with the Serbs.
They have a reputation for violence. They are products of a war-torn country, and they carry little regard for life…
and even less for mercy. I need protection.
And if Pietro is who I think he is, I’ll be safer with him.
My father is fighting the Serbs. He can’t fight a war on two fronts. Even I know that.
And in the darkest place, where hope should’ve died, I find light.
I arrive at the club, and I figure by now my father has been carted off to the hospital, and this buys me time.
Perhaps Pietro is a blessing in disguise.
The night passes without incident, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the bantering back and forth with him.
My father and his men are watching me. I’m the human equivalent of a bug trapped in a mayonnaise jar.
How ironic is it that I run from my mafia family and crawl into bed with a man who’s in the mafia, too?
Dad can’t attack the Borrellis without a valid excuse, so why not hitch my future to theirs? The closer I stick to Pietro, the safer I’ll be.
Just because my father muddied the water with the Serbs and they’re out for blood, doesn’t mean it’s my problem. And if I give in to my father’s demands, Vukan will control me. I don’t know him, but his brother speaks volumes.
I feel empty inside without Pietro and wish he were here. The night passes without our banter, but I miss it.
The fire in my belly to fight my father has grown cold.
The reality is he’ll win in the end. If my father can’t bring me back into the fold, the Serbs might pick me up themselves.
How long will the secret of my whereabouts be kept?
Someone will sell me out to Petrovi? because every soldier has a price.
I sit in Pietro’s chair inside the office as the soundproof walls fail to stop the music completely.
I plant my hands on the desk and bury my head in them. The room still carries the scent of his cologne, and it’s comforting in his absence. I wish he were here… but I know he had a wedding to attend.
What can I do?
If I marry the Serb…. I can’t imagine what my life would be like.
I’m doomed either way, the proverbial rock between a hard place.
I have no free will. I’ll always be controlled.
But tonight, I control my destiny. Filled with a hollow heart over the fact that my dream of independence has died a silent death, there’s only one play left.
The Borrelli family is untouchable, so why not use this to my advantage? I can hide in plain sight!