Chapter 3
The two men, the sons who are being brought to me now, will get a quick glance into this room. That ought to get their attention.
That and the hot blood dripping from my hands.
Daddy sent me to do his dirty work. As always. And I took it a little too far. As always. So all I’ll get from Daddy is blame, and I have no power to do anything about it.
Sometimes I need men to take me seriously, and it can be a challenge.
I’m curvy and blonde, and I’m not tall. I know my way around French couture as well as Italian Emporia, Rodeo Drive celeb style and New York stealth wealth. I know how to power dress, but nearly all the men in the Life are blind to the language of style.
All that a woman’s clothes and hair ever tell them is some of the ways they might want to fuck her.
If there’s any fucking to be done, the two Crespi sons will be in the receiving positions.
I need this business finished. That disgusting creep’s two sons are being brought in to me, and I’m already thinking about how angry Daddy is going to be, and how he will punish me for what I just did.
My life is a golden trap. A mafia princess’ jeweled cage, where you can have a lot, a hell of a lot; money, clothes, cars, homes, pools. Five-star luxury everywhere. But then you run into a hard line.
In the Life, I will never be independent. A man will have a leash on me forever. Now, it’s Daddy holding the leash. The only way I can get off that will be when Daddy hands it to a husband.
Falling in love? Forget it. Mafia princesses are married by arrangement, like the princesses in old Europe.
That’s not what I want. To get where I want to go, I’m smart enough to know that I’ll need wisdom, passion and power. More wisdom than I have now, for sure. The bloody mess I left in the other room is proof.
More passion, too. Daddy says I have ‘heart,’ but he just means when I start something, I follow through. And that I can be ruthless. There’s more to passion than blind rage. I know too well, that’s just what happens when your passion hits the limits of your power. It breaks out as rage.
I have no power at all, and no prospects of getting any.
Ever since I was little, I tried to do what Daddy told me. Even before I knew any better. I learned there was a pattern, but it was Daddy. How could I say ‘no’? When I knew it was bad, I still tried to do it. Like this thing I’m doing now.
Daddy told me what he wanted done, and I did it. But this is what he always does to me. He sets me up. First he makes me feel like I need to prove myself to him. And I’m always too eager to do it. And then I do what he wants, but I go too far.
It all turns out bad, and then Daddy puts the blame on me. But it’s his fault, not mine. He knows what I’m like.
That’s what happened with Gianni.