Chapter 15
ALESSIA
“Alessia, wait up!”
I paused, turning around at Jackson’s voice just outside the entrance at work. “Hey, Jackson. Twice in one week—you sure you’re not following me?” I teased as he caught up to me.
“Nah, the judge says I’m not allowed to do that anymore.” Those dimples. He was such a flirt. “Can you spare a minute to walk with me? Won’t take long, promise.”
What’s this all about?
“Sure.” I motioned him back toward the sidewalk. “What’s up?”
He glanced behind us at the building, then peered back at me sheepishly. “I know I already said something, and I should probably keep my mouth shut, but I’m not good at doing what I should. I saw you yesterday … with the Italian.”
I peered at him uneasily, my stomach starting to churn with trepidation. “Yeah. I know you said he was dangerous, but I’m a big girl and can make my own decisions.” Was he still trying to talk me out of dating Luca?
Jackson pulled me aside into an entryway alcove, glancing around as if he’d stolen something and expected to be busted any second.
“I’m putting my neck on the line here, but you need to know,” he said in a hushed whisper.
“That man is in the mafia—you need to stay away from him.” He stared at me, pleading earnestly with his eyes, but I just stared back blankly.
“That’s absurd. Just because he’s Italian doesn’t mean he’s in the mafia. My family is Italian, and we aren’t in the mafia—that stuff doesn’t exist anymore. You’ve been watching too much TV.” I was incredulous. His allegations had come so far out of left field, all I could do was scoff at him.
Jackson pursed his lips and lowered his head, his face inches from mine.
His chocolate eyes were no longer warm and inviting, instead, they were laden with shadows, dark and ominous.
“That stuff is still very much alive. You know I’m Irish—some of my family is involved in a similar organization as the Italian. ”
“Organized crime?” I cut in. “Are you telling me your family is part of the Irish mob?”
He didn’t answer my question, but I could see the truth in his cutting gaze. “I’ve heard things through the years. I know who key players are, especially in this area. That man is part of The Five Families.”
“What’s that?” I asked hesitantly.
“The five ruling families of the New York Mafia—Russo, Lucciano, Giordano, Gallo, and Moretti. They run the city.”
“Luca’s last name is Romano; he’s not one of them.”
“Alessia.” He let out an exasperated sigh.
“The family names are simply the organization names—it’s not an actual family.
For example, the Gallo family is run by a guy named Stefano Mariano with his underboss, Matteo DeLuca.
I guess there may have been a Gallo way back when the families formed, but that’s not how it works now. ”
“Oh. Well, that still doesn’t mean he’s a gangster,” I insisted, not wanting to buy what Jackson was saying.
Some of my incredulity was a natural defense mechanism to deny something I didn’t want to hear, and some of it was well and truly disbelief.
I’d lived in the city all my life and never heard even a whisper about the mafia.
“I don’t know what I can do to convince you, but I’m not making this up.
That man you’re seeing, he’s a made man—a mafioso.
I tried to warn you, but you wouldn’t listen.
I’m telling you things I could get killed for talking about.
You choose not to believe me, that’s your call. ” He was clearly frustrated.
I wasn’t trying to be ugly, but what he was saying was so absurd, I didn’t know how to wrap my head around it. “I don’t know what to say … this is all … Luca has money, but that’s because he’s a banker. He’s not a mobster.” My voice shook, confusion and uncertainty rattling my nerves.
“He’s not a banker, Alessia, he’s a loan shark. That’s like saying a stay at Guantanamo prison is a beach vacation. I’m a banker—I don’t charge people 150% interest, then break their kneecaps if they can’t pay.”
My hand flew to my mouth, my stomach roiling, and bile threatening to come up.
It couldn’t be. My Luca couldn’t do what Jackson was describing.
An unwanted image of his scarred, bloodied knuckles floated into my mind.
He’d had a sound excuse for them, but now I had to wonder—did he use those fists for more than exercise?
I stepped away from Jackson, holding my hand out to keep him from coming closer. “I appreciate you trying to help me, but I need to go.”
Jackson didn’t fight me. He simply nodded before I tore off toward the building.
When I walked through the front entry, my steps faltered when I spotted the security guards on duty.
My eyes tracked from one to the other, wondering which of them Luca had paid.
Could they tell what I had learned? Would they tell him they saw me?
Realizing how panicked I’d become, I berated myself for being overly dramatic.
There was no proof Luca was in the mafia—I wasn’t even sure it still existed.
The mob hadn’t been in the news since back in the 90s, outside of fictional tv shows and movies.
Maybe Jackson was misinformed. Maybe he was just trying to get me to stop seeing Luca.
Before I jumped to any conclusions, I was going to do some research and look at the facts.
Walking distractedly through security, I skipped my normal escalator ride and took the elevator to the tenth floor.
Once I was in my office, I booted up my computer and pulled up Google, starting a search for the New York Mafia.
What I learned was mind-bogging.
For two long hours, I read articles about the rise and fall and recent resurgence of the American Mafia.
I learned the federal RICO Act had strangled the life out of organized crime over a period of decades, but before a killing blow had been dished out, September 11th happened.
When the terrorists launched their assault on our homeland, the crime-fighting resources previously concentrated on organized crime were redirected to fight terrorism.
Since the 2001 attacks, the mafia had seen a resurgence, adapting to modern-day technology and growing quietly underground.
Just like Jackson had said, New York was ruled by The Five Families—five separate crime families who had split the city into sections, making money illegally in every fashion they could conceive.
I was stunned speechless.
I felt like I’d just learned there really were aliens secretly stashed away in Area 51. The mafia still existed—and not just small-scale thugs—billion-dollar operations, each with hundreds of men.
If mobsters still existed, could Luca be one of them?
He fit the mold, if there was a mold. He fought, had money, came from the streets, and he definitely had secrets.
After my mother died, I was adopted into a new family.
The words Luca had said to me came back now, and I had to wonder if he’d meant something far different than I had assumed.
Had he meant he was taken into the mafia after his mother died?
A young kid needing money, stuck raising his younger sister—I could see how turning to crime would feel like the only option.
And what about the mention of blood for blood—what had that been about? I didn’t have to know the details to realize the caller hadn’t been talking in code. He was talking about violence, maybe even people dying.
In my gut, I felt the truth.
I didn’t want to face it, didn’t want to believe it, but it was there, staring me in the face.
Luca was in the mafia.
Would I be in danger just by associating with him?
Would he end up going to prison? Did he kill people?
I could feel the panic welling up inside me, a wall of turbulent water threatening to drag me under.
I had to stop seeing him—didn’t I? Could I be with a mobster?
Did I want that for myself? Absolutely not.
But how did I break up with a criminal who had his sights set on me?
Run.
Not just run home. I would need to leave the city.
What about my job and my family? Money wasn’t an issue, but there was a whole lot more to my life than money and possessions. Would I have to leave behind my entire life to get away from Luca? Was there a chance he would let me go if I tried to break things off?
Before my thoughts could devolve into all-out hysteria, my phone vibrated with a call. Giada’s face appeared on the screen, and a plan began to form.
“Hey, G. What’s up?” I used my most practiced voice, the one I used with my parents when I wanted everyone to think everything was fine.
There was no way I was telling Giada what a mess I’d gotten myself into.
If needed, I’d bring my family into this, but if at all possible, I would handle it on my own.
I had plenty of money, and I was a smart girl. I could manage this.
“Hey, I got tickets for the Pretty Woman musical on the 25th, you want to come with?”
“Um, yeah. I could probably do that. And if you’re up for it, I was thinking about a sleepover tonight. I could come to your place, and we could catch up—unless you have plans.”
Please be free. Please be free.
“No plans but you! We can watch the Pretty Woman movie in preparation—I even have popcorn on hand,” Giada said excitedly.
“Sounds good. Mind if I come over straight from work? I’d have to bum pajamas from you.”
“I gotcha covered. Come over whenever you can, and we’ll get this party started.”
“Thanks, G. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Later, babe!”
I leaned back in my chair, exhaling with a small sense of relief.
If I could avoid him for the rest of the day, that would give me a little time to figure out a more long-term plan.
I was still reeling from what I had learned and the implications.
Figuring out what to do about it would be an entirely different matter.