Chapter 16
However determined I was to take my time, at the last minute I lose my nerve. I strut downstairs at twenty of six to find where dinner is going to be.
As I get to the hallway, I hear voices and I freeze. A door to a paneled room is open. Sounds like all three brothers are behind the heavy wood door at the far end of the room. I decide I’ll burst in, fling the doors open and take them off guard. My feet don’t make a sound on the thick rug.
When I get to the door, my breath stops. I recognize Bruno’s voice. Even muffled through the heavy paneled wood door, he booms above the burble of low, dirty laughter. “A girl lets herself down like that, lets herself be had, word’s going to get out.”
I freeze.
Alessio says, “Doesn’t ever take much.”
Then a male voice I don’t know. Strong, masculine and cultured, he sounds far too young to be the don. It carries the arrogance of the high-born mafiosa with a dry deadpan. “Seems like she took plenty.”
Alessio’s unmistakeable laugh hammers like a drumroll. “Madonna.”
I should knock and enter. Or just burst in, see how they react. But my feet are stuck to the floor. I have to hear what comes next. And I want to know who they’re talking about.
Bruno says, “A dirty reputation sticks like paint.”
I need to know, could they be talking about me? The one I don’t know, but I’m thinking has to be Carlo, says, “How can they do it, those kinds of girls? How can they throw their lives away like that?”
Alessio’s rasping chuckle, “In high school. Before they’ve even given themselves a chance?”
“There was a girl in Saint Barbara’s. Everybody knew.” As I’m listening to Bruno, I get a sense of something surprising about the three men’s voices. Hearing them but not seeing them, they don’t sound much alike.
Alessio’s delivery is more measured. Clipped. Maybe he was the one who learned discipline. “I remember her.”
And Bruno’s laugh is brighter and less controlled. Still with a threatening undertone, a hint of sadism, “I heard she gave blowjobs to anyone who wanted them.”
I gulp. That was the main thing I used to do with Federico. That and what he did for me. We called it ‘making out.’ First it was just play-acting. Silly horsing around. But then we figured, we had to learn somehow. What better way than to experiment with each other?
That was the thing that always gave me the biggest, banging buzz, though. The pull and tease, the pressure buildup, then the release. The thrumming, electric pulse of power.
I loved the aroma of his heat. It’s unique. Like a signature or the feeling of his hands. And the feeling of power. The power I had with him in my mouth, and the power I was inhaling. That, and I loved the taste.
If Federico hadn’t been so great and so enthusiastic in trying things out when we were in school, if I didn’t have somebody I knew so well and I could trust so completely, I might have given blowjobs to anyone who wanted them.
I know people had suspicions of what we were up to, but there’s no way anyone ever knew for sure. No specifics, for certain. Not unless he told someone, and I know he wouldn’t ever do that.
Or unless somebody saw us. But if they had, one of us would have heard. In a school like ours, if somebody knows something about you, sooner or later they’ll try and extract some value with it.
My gut cramps like it wants to fold in half, and my thighs clench hard as I’m listening to them go on.
The voice I don’t know laughs and says, “Couldn’t get enough cock down her throat.”
Bruno slips in, “Girl goes like that, she’s never going to get a husband.”
Alessio’s heavy rolling laugh, like an enormous bowling ball, “Not unless it’s some low-life.”
The one I don’t know but maybe Carlo surprises me with such a cruel laugh. “Or a pimp.”
Alessio agrees, “Like I said.”
Bruno sounds like he’s grinning. “Great blowjobs, though.”
Alessio jibes, “I know you got some.”
I picture Bruno lifting a whiskey glass to his lips as the chuckle still rumbles in his chest. “Just saying.”
I’m reaching for the door when maybe-Carlo says, “So you don’t buy our deliciously curvy little Cinderella’s innocent act?”
Alessio leers in his scornful drawl and I freeze again. “She is so gagging for it.”
Bruno chimes in, “You going to give it to her?”
“Don’t you think I got more self respect?”
Like a gas tank exploding, both the other men shout, “No.” And they all fall into a crescendo of laughter.
Alessio’s voice snaps with authority. “Don’t forget that in European royal marriages, the first fuck was always witnessed. Documented.”
My panties drench at the thought of that. They all explode with laughter again, and I can’t help but clench and tingle.
There’s a chair by the door and I drop back into it. I need a few moments.
The three voices are less distinct from here, but I can still make out what they’re saying. The one I think is Carlo says, “Okay. What about tonight? The don says it’s a big deal for us. Do we take her, or leave her here?”
Bruno says,“Who, the stray? I vote we take her. Take here there, keep her locked in a closet under the stairs. Or a basement room. Then we can sneak out for a quick play with her whenever.”
“You want to get your wick wet in my future bride, Bruno?”
So that deadpan voice must be Carlo. I almost groan out loud. Their banter is disgusting. Awful. And terrifying. And in my darker soul, some part deep down inside me is ignited by it. I’m shocked at the way their words churn me.
It makes me clench and wriggle.
Alessio’s voice of authority again, “Dad says, if she stays here, the Benedettis will know. If she’s out with us, everyone will know. What do you think?”
Bruno’s voice rises, “Who cares what any of them think or what they know, or what they think they know?” A rhythmic sound, like he’s beating his hand against wood, echoes in a shake in his chest. “What the fuck does it matter? We’re the Fortunas. Fuck ’em all. We’re the ‘F’ word around here.”
All three raise their voices like they’re clambering over the tops of one another’s heads.
Carlo cuts through. “She could be a total liability. It’s too unpredictable. This is an important night.”
Bruno says, “There. Carlo’s right.”
Alessio mocks, “You always think Carlo’s right.”
Without missing a beat, Bruno claps back, “And you never realize he is until it’s too fucking late. Try to keep up.” There are grunts, sounds of jostling and some very masculine laughs. “Anyway, I say we keep her here. Under wraps. People see she’s not at the thing, then they look at her family. Then they’ll see them looking at us. Let them all play fucking guessing games. We come out on top whatever.”
“Bruno.” It sounds like there’s a smile in Carlo’s answer, but with these men, it’s hard to tell affection apart from scorn. “For you it’s always the show of force, right?”
A softer tone makes Bruno sound like the peacemaker. “Sure, Carlo, but why not? We don’t all have to be looking four moves ahead like we’re playing chess the whole time. We’re the number two noise in this town. Why would we let anyone forget? They’re down in the number threes, and we’ve got their little pussy in a box. Let’s keep it stashed and stabled here.”
Carlo says, “The don is right about one thing. It’s all about power. Real power.”
There’s an odd note in the way he says, the don. Like there was doubt about the don’s position. First I heard of it, but the way Carlo says it, he makes it sound like a running gag. An inside joke that’s already well-worn.
His voice is coming nearer to the door. “I left my phone in my room. I’m going up to get it, and I’ll see you all at dinner.”
By reflex I back away.
The double doors swing open and I’m face to face with him. It’s him, for sure.