Chapter 4 Noemi
Noemi
The sound of shattering porcelain echoes through the massive, vaulted hallway on the second floor, followed instantly by a scream so piercing that the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.
I freeze, my hand hovering over the brass doorknob of the library.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?!"
It’s my mother. Serafina Genovese is a woman who prides herself on her immaculate composure.
She is the picture-perfect mafia matriarch, always dripping in diamonds, her dark hair perfectly coiffed, her voice never rising above a cultured, terrifying purr.
But right now, she sounds like a feral animal trapped in a snare.
"Lower your voice, Serafina," my father’s deep, gravelly baritone rumbles from behind the closed double doors of their private suite. "The guards will hear you."
"Let them hear!" Something else hits the wall, a heavy thud, maybe a book or a paperweight. "I don't give a shit who hears! You are not doing this, Orlando! You are not giving my baby to that psychotic butcher!"
I press my back against the cold, silk-papered wall of the corridor, my breath turning shallow. My baby. She means Lucia.
I don't mean to eavesdrop. In a house full of hitmen and secrets, knowing too much is a quick way to wind up at the bottom of the San Marco river with your lungs full of dirty water. But my feet are rooted to the floorboards.
"It wasn't a request, Serafina! It was a decree from Don Salvatore himself!
" My father’s voice is rising now, cracking with the impotent rage I saw in his study just last night.
"The Russians are moving on the port. Salvatore demanded a blood alliance to hold the line.
He ordered a marriage between our family and the Vellutini. He gave me no fucking choice!"
"So give him a daughter!" my mother shrieks, her voice breaking into a hysterical, jagged sob. "Give him Noemi!"
The words hit me with the force of a physical blow, driving the air straight out of my lungs. I close my eyes, the back of my head thumping softly against the wall. A cold, nauseating numbness begins to spread outward from my chest, freezing the blood in my veins.
"He didn't ask for Noemi," my father growls, though he sounds exhausted. "He specifically asked for the youngest. He asked for Lucia. He did it to spit in my face, Serafina. To prove that he could take the best thing I have."
"I will kill myself," my mother hisses, the hysteria dropping into a chilling certainty.
"I will swallow a bottle of pills and die in your fucking bed before I watch you dress my twenty-year-old daughter in white and hand her over to a man who slaughters people with his bare hands. Cassio Vellutini is a monster! He’s a mad dog!
He will break her, Orlando. He will tear her apart just to hurt you, and she is too soft to survive him! "
There is a long, suffocating pause where the fate of my entire existence is being weighed against the tears of my mother.
"Serafina..."
"No! Listen to me!" My mother’s voice is a desperate, venomous whisper now.
"Lucia is meant for a good match. A peaceful match. She is meant to marry a man who will respect her, not a volatile prick who leaves a trail of corpses wherever he walks. Noemi is the one with the mouth. Noemi is the one who likes to fight. Let the two of them tear each other’s throats out!
But you will not sacrifice my baby to save your territory. "
My baby. Not our daughters. Just Lucia. The golden child. The perfect, obedient doll.
And me? I am the meat they are willing to throw to the wolves so the rest of the flock can sleep soundly.
"If I go back to Salvatore and swap the bride," my father says slowly, his voice laced with dread, "Cassio will see it as an act of war. He asked for Lucia."
"Then you make him take Noemi! You are the Don of the Genovese family, Orlando! Act like it! Tell him it’s the eldest or it’s nothing. But I swear to Christ, if you let that animal touch Lucia, I will burn this house to the ground."
I don't stay to hear his surrender. I already know what it sounds like.
I push myself off the wall and walk away, my footsteps are silent on the thick Persian runners. I don't run. Running is for prey, and I refuse to be hunted in my own home. I retreat to my bedroom, locking the heavy door behind me, and walk straight to the adjoining bathroom.
I turn on the cold-water tap, gripping the edges of the marble sink so tightly that my knuckles turn bone-white. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My dark eyes are wide, and my pupils are dilated with a mix of terror and pure rage.
Cassio Vellutini.
A violent shiver wrecks my frame.
I have spent the last two years listening to the whispered horror stories of what the young Don of the Vellutini family does to his enemies.
I’ve seen the aftermath of his temper. I’ve seen the body bags being carried out of warehouses, dripping blood onto the pavement.
He doesn't have a heart, only a fucking ledger, and he balances it with bullets.
And now, my parents are conspiring to chain me to him.
It takes three hours for the summons to come. Three agonizing hours of sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall, listening to the rain beat against the glass panes of my window. When the heavy knock finally sounds at my door, it’s not Enzo or one of the guards.
"Noemi," my father’s voice barks through the wood. "My study. Now."
He doesn't wait for a response. I hear his footsteps retreating down the hall.
I stand up, smoothing the wrinkles from my black wool trousers and adjusting the collar of my silk blouse.
I am preparing for an execution, so I might as well look the part.
I walk down the sweeping staircase, past the armed sentries who look everywhere but at my face, and step into the suffocating, cigar-choked air of the Don’s study.
My father is standing by the fireplace, a glass of amber scotch gripped tightly in his meaty hand. He looks ten years older than he did yesterday. The permanent scowl on his face has deepened into a mask of exhausted bitterness.
"Close the door," he orders, not turning around.
I do as I’m told. I walk to the center of the room, folding my arms tightly across my chest, building a fortress out of my own bones. "I know."
He slowly turns his head, his dark eyes narrowing under bushy silver eyebrows. "You know what?"
"I know you’re trying to sell me to Cassio Vellutini," I say, my voice is eerily calm, devoid of any of the trembling that is currently wrecking my insides.
"I heard mother screaming. She doesn't want her precious Lucia getting blood on her wedding dress, so you’re going to throw me into the slaughterhouse instead. "
My father’s jaw clenches. He takes a long drag of his scotch, swallowing it like medicine. He doesn't apologize. A Don never apologizes.
"Salvatore demanded a union," he says coldly, stating the facts as if he were reading a grocery list. "The Russians and the Irish are moving on the Port of San Marco. If we don't unite the Genovese and the Vellutini, we lose the city. The internal war is over."
"And the treaty is a wedding ring," I finish for him, a bitter laugh clawing its way up my throat.
"Funny. Just last night you were threatening to let me rot in my bedroom until I died a spinster.
You told me no man wanted to marry a man.
What changed, Papa? Did Cassio suddenly acquire a taste for women with opinions? "
"Watch your fucking tone with me, Noemi," he snarls, taking a menacing step toward me.
"This isn't a game. This is the survival of our syndicate. Yes, Cassio accepted the marriage. And yes, the arrogant prick asked for Lucia. He wanted to humiliate me. He wanted to take the daughter I’ve been preparing for a proper alliance. "
"So give her to him," I shoot back, my chin tilting up, my self-preservation instincts screaming at me to shut up, but the fire in my belly is burning far too hot. "You made a deal. You agreed to his terms. Give him the perfect daughter."
"Your mother will not allow it," he snaps, his face flushes dark red. "She’ll tear this family apart. And frankly, she’s right. Lucia is too fragile for a man like Cassio. She wouldn't last a month in his house. He would crush her."
"And you think he won't crush me?" I demand, my voice finally cracking, the raw, bleeding betrayal leaks through my icy facade. "You think because I don't cry when you yell at me, I am invincible? He’s a blood thirsty murderer! He’s a ruthless, volatile psychopath who kills for sport!"
"You will survive him because you are too goddamn stubborn to die!" my father roars, slamming his empty glass down on the mantelpiece so hard that the crystal fractures. "You have a spine made of iron and a mouth filled with poison! You are exactly the kind of nightmare that bastard deserves!"
I stare at him, the horrifying truth settling over me like a suffocating shroud. He isn't just protecting Lucia. He is using me as a weapon. He is sending me into Cassio’s home to be a thorn in his side, a constant, irritating reminder of the Genovese defiance.
"I won't do it," I whisper, shaking my head. "I will not marry him. The agreement was for Lucia. You told Salvatore it would be Lucia."
"And I just got off the phone with Salvatore," my father sneers, a cruel, triumphant gleam in his eye.
"I told him the agreement was for a union of our bloodlines, not a specific daughter.
I told him my eldest was available, and it is my right as Don to marry off my daughters in chronological order.
Salvatore doesn't give a shit which one of you wears the dress, as long as the port is secured. "
"Cassio won't accept it," I say, desperation making my voice thin. "He hates me. He despises me. You know we have a history."
"I don't give a fuck about your history!"
"He humiliated me, Papa!" I shout, stepping forward, the memory flashing behind my eyes like a branding iron.
"He hates me," I repeat, my voice trembling now. "If you force me into his house, if you replace the beautiful, obedient sister he asked for with the spinster who insulted him in public... he will punish me for it. He will make my life a living hell."
My father steps into my personal space, his towering frame casts a dark shadow over me.
The smell of scotch and stale smoke is suffocating.
He reaches out and grips my jaw in his massive, calloused hand, his fingers digging painfully into my skin, forcing my head up to meet his furious, unyielding gaze.
"Listen to me, you ungrateful little bitch," he hisses.
"You have been a burden on this family since the day you realized you had a voice.
You have chased away every decent suitor I put in front of you.
You have mocked my authority, you have disrespected my Capos, and you have humiliated me with your endless, stubborn defiance. "
I try to pull away, but his grip is like a vice, his nails bite into my cheeks.
"This is your penance," he growls with malice. "You want to act like a tough, independent woman? Prove it. You will put on a white dress next week. You will walk down the aisle. You will say your vows to Cassio Vellutini, and you will secure my borders. And if you refuse..."
He leans in closer, his lips practically brushing my ear.
"If you refuse, I will drag you down to the basement of this house, I will lock you in a cell, and I will leave you there to rot in the dark until you forget your own fucking name. And to make sure the alliance holds, I will give Cassio exactly what he asked for. I will hand him Lucia."
A paralyzing terror washes over me, drowning out the fire.
He means it. He would do it in a heartbeat. He would sacrifice my sister to the monster, and he would bury me alive to punish me for making him do it. He holds all the cards. He holds my freedom, my life, and my sister’s innocence in his bloody hands.
My father releases my jaw with a violent shove, sending me stumbling backward a few steps until my back hits the heavy oak door of the study.
I reach up, my trembling fingers brushing the tender, red marks he left on my skin. I look at him, this man who shares my blood, this tyrant who is supposed to protect me from the evils of the world, and I realize he is exactly the same as the monster he is selling me to.
They are all the same. Cassio. Orlando. Salvatore. They are all just violent, selfish men playing God with the lives of the women trapped in their cages.
"You have five days," my father states, turning his back on me to pour himself another drink, completely dismissing my existence now that he has won.
"Your mother has already contacted the dressmaker.
Do not speak to the guards. Do not attempt to leave the grounds.
If I catch you trying to run, Noemi, I promise you, Cassio will be the least of your worries. "
I stand there for a long moment, the silence of the room ringing in my ears.
The fight drains out of me, leaving behind a hollow, agonizing void.
There is no escape. There is no white knight coming to save me.
Dario Lombardi isn't going to burst through the doors to rescue the unwanted daughter. Dario only looks at Lucia now anyway.
I am completely, entirely alone.
"Fine," I whisper, my voice sounds like it belongs to a stranger. Dead. Resigned. "I’ll marry him."
My father doesn't even turn around. He just takes a sip of his scotch. "Get out of my sight."
I open the heavy door and step back out into the vaulted hallway. I walk toward the grand staircase, my legs are moving mechanically, my mind is completely blank with shock.
I am going to marry Cassio Vellutini.
I am going to be chained to a man who looked at me like I was dirt beneath his shoes. A man who requested my beautiful, perfect sister, only to be handed the bitter, sharp-tongued spinster as a booby prize. He is going to be furious. He is going to be insulted.
And when the doors of his penthouse close, and my father is no longer around to pretend to care, Cassio is going to take all of his rage, all of his violence, and all of his hatred, and he is going to take it out on me.
I reach my bedroom and close the door, sliding the heavy deadbolt into place. But it doesn't matter anymore. The lock is useless. The monster is already waiting for me on the other side of the altar.
I sink to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest, and for the first time in years, I don't try to stop the tears. I let them fall, mourning the death of a life I never really got to live.