Chapter One #7
I wake early, shower, dry my hair, and braid it.
I don’t want it to get in the way. I need to make sure I’m prepared.
I forgo my usual floaty dresses, opting for trousers and a loose-fitting blouse.
I slide my gun into the back of them and position the blouse over the top.
I pull on my boots and slip a knife on each side.
I apply a little makeup and look at myself in the mirror.
I twist and turn, but you can’t see the gun or the knives.
I’m ready. I take a deep breath. Whatever happens next is in God’s hands, and fuck, that bitch better be on my side.
I stroll down the stairs cautiously, watching every nook and cranny in the house, watching out for every member of staff for anything untoward, but everyone seems scarce.
It’s unnaturally quiet. I know they normally mill around unseen, but not by me.
I always see them. It’s never this empty, and the dread pools in my stomach.
I take note of everything in my surroundings.
I will not be caught out by anyone or anything.
The eerie silence spreads throughout the whole house, setting me more on edge.
It’s unnatural. The usual hum of the corridors is missing.
Even the crunch of boots from the guards outside is lacking.
As I enter the living room, Alfredo is pacing back and forth. He takes one look at me and snarls. “What the fuck are you wearing?”
I look down at myself. “I wanted to be smart.”
“Fuck smart. Go change.” He snaps his glare, vile and disturbing. He’s already clearly wound up. I stay there unmoving. “I said, go fucking change,” he barks at me as Father clears his throat when he enters the space.
“I think you look lovely, dear.” He doesn’t. He just wants Alfredo to be wound up, teetering on the edge, and he has him just where he hoped.
I smile anyway. “Thank you, Father.” I don’t miss the sour look Alfredo flings my way. His eyes reveal every thought he’s having, and how I’ll pay for my disobedience. And he’s ready to blow.
Father gestures to the sofa. “Shall we conduct the meeting here? It’s a little less official, and family doesn’t need to be so formal.”
I smile as I have more weapons in this room.
But Alfredo looks infuriated. I know what he’s thinking: his meeting is now being downgraded to an informal family chat.
Father sits in the high-back chair, and Alfredo sits opposite him on the sofa.
I go to sit beside him, but he glares at me.
I stop in my tracks and step past him and stand behind my father.
Alfredo’s eyes narrow at me. I know he was expecting me to stand behind him.
I’m going to go out on a limb here, and if things go terribly, at least my father will see I’m here, not over there.
I’m on his side, not Alfredo’s. Father crosses his legs and casually rests his hands on his lap.
I can almost hear the smugness. I can feel the contempt rolling off him.
“You wanted a… chat, Alfredo. What can I do for you?”
“I want a date set for the business transfer and when I will take over as head of the family. I want a date set for the marriage. I want it sorted today so I can start planning, and I want to start to move in, to assert my position.” He leans forward.
“It was promised to me when she turned twenty-one.” He points at me as if there’s another she, as if there’s another who was promised to him like a trinket, a fucking toy, and he needs to confirm which is actually going to be his.
“I’ve been patient for the last few years, but I won’t be fobbed off any longer.
I want what’s owed. I want what’s mine. I want it now! ”
Father listens and ponders, nods appropriately, but his face stays stoic as Alfredo gets more frustrated.
Father sits with no facial expression. Nothing falters. He takes a breath. “No.” It’s all Father says. No reaction, nothing. He remains seated, calm, and holds his position.
“What do you mean, no?” Alfredo rises from his seat. “I want what’s mine. I earned my place at the head of this family. I deserve it. I did everything you asked of me, and it’s time you pay up with your side of the bargain.”
“Again, no,” Father repeats, shaking his head.
Alfredo is furious, and his breathing is accelerated. His face is starting to redden, and he’s clenching his fists. “What do you mean, no?”
“I mean, while you have been… valuable to the family, I am under no obligation to give you anything. Things change, and this marriage is no longer the best option to secure our footing. Bellino Ricci will be marrying Arianna next month.”
Alfredo is physically shaking and spitting through his teeth. “I murdered your bastard wife for my fucking position. You promised me the world, and now you say I get what? Fucking nothing?”
“No, you get to keep your position. I am not stepping down. Arianna is marrying Bellino.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I am Alessandro Bianchi. I’m the Don here and one of the Five. I can do whatever I want.” Father rises from his chair. He steadily fastens the button on his jacket. “You can either keep your position or leave.”
Alfredo pulls his gun and points it between Father’s eyes. Father chuckles. “I see. Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed in you, Alfredo. After all, I thought you wanted what’s best for the family.”
“Best for the family?” he huffs out. “The family I was promised, the position I was given. I want it, and I want it now. I was never going to be good enough, was I? You said I was the son you never had, you said I was next in line, you’ve been training me all these years, and you promised her to me when I took over.
Now you think I’m letting you take it all away?
You think I’m allowing you to remove what’s rightfully mine.
This”—he gestures around the room—“this is all fucking mine, you sorry sack of shit! You’re a pathetic excuse for a human being.
I will not be cut off. I will not be left out, and I will not bow to whichever cunt you’re handing the family to, and my fucking prize for doing your dirty work all these years is her. She’s mine.”
“Things change.”
Bang! The shot rings out, and I scream as Father stumbles back. He grabs for me and pulls me in front of him. He chuckles in my ear with his arm caged across my body.
“You think I won’t shoot her? Do you think I need either of you? I will take over. It will all be mine. I don’t need you or her to have what’s owed to me.”
“Alfredo.” I want to try to reason with him, but I can’t. He keeps his gun trained on us, and I slowly reach my hand behind my back.
“My men will be here any second, Alfredo. You have nowhere to run now,” Father grunts in my ear, and I can hear the pain in his voice. He was shot, but where and how bad? I’m unsure.
“No one’s coming. I’ve sent them after an ‘intruder’ on the west side. No one’s coming for you, Alessandro.” He grins like he’s won, and he knows it.
I tug the gun from behind my back and fire three times, once between the eyes and two to the chest. Alfredo drops back, and his gun clatters to the ground, followed by the thud of his body. I step forward, and Father releases me. He starts laughing, and I turn to glare at him.
“Well, well, maybe I had you all wrong. Now, put the gun down before you hurt yourself.” He patronises like I’m not the only reason we’re both still breathing for now.
I sigh and shake my head. I don’t speak. I bend down, untuck my blouse, and place my gun on the floor next to Alfredo. I wrap my hand in my blouse, and I pick up Alfredo’s gun, turn, and pull the trigger.
Father drops to his knees, his eyes wide.
I shoot again. His mouth sags, and then he falls forward onto his face.
I blink, trying to clear the fog, the haze that has washed over me, clouding my vision to the point of almost unconsciousness, my chest heaving, rising and falling uncontrollably, my breathing erratic, my body trying to gulp in as much air as humanly possible.
My heart is pounding around in my chest, ricocheting, trying to hammer out of its cavity. The ringing in my ears is deafening and disorientating me, and the throbbing in my head makes thinking nearly impossible.
A clatter startles me from my daze, and I blink again, trying to clear the insanity that wants to engulf me in its grasp, shaking my head.
I hit the floor, flat on my ass, with a thump as the breath whooshes out of me.
Pulling my legs to my chest and hugging them, closing my eyes and trying to calm myself and find my centre.
This peace normally lives there, but it’s gone.
I know in this second that the previous moments have either destroyed my life entirely or started it on a new trajectory, one I was never destined to take like this.
I need to get my fucking story straight.
I’m not sorry for what I’ve done—it’s not what bothers me.
It’s the fact that I feel relief, excitement, content, and…
happy, actually happy for the first time in my life, and the culmination of all these feelings is just so overwhelming.
I know what I need to do. I screw my eyes tighter.
I yank my blouse to my face and scrub the blood splashes from my skin.
I pick up my gun, and I rise from the floor, looking at my shaking hands.
Adrenaline coursing through my veins sets my teeth on edge.
I breathe. They still, and I let my new life wash over me, allowing the weight of the gun in my hand to become my focus, letting that give me the centre I look for.
I grasp for the life I was never good enough for, but the life I plan to take…
eventually, the life I will mould to become queen in a world of self-appointed kings.
A life I will thrive in. I will make them all bow to me, because if they refuse, I will destroy them all.
I pull out my phone and put the call out.
They’ll be here in minutes, and I need to get myself in check.
I realise that the gun was the clatter that brought me back to the moment.
I pick up the gun I laid beside Alfredo.
My gun gripped firmly in my hand, I wipe my prints off it with my blouse.
I wrap Father’s hand around it, pushing his finger against the trigger and firing the gun into the sofa.
I smirk. I was never good enough, yet if I can pull this off, it will all be mine.
“Turn in your grave, Father. Sleep well.” I chuckle to myself.
I am Arianna Bianchi, daughter of the renowned Mafia Don Alessandro Bianchi, the ruthless leader and prick I was never good enough for.
At his feet is his second in command, the one whom he constantly overlooked me for, the son he always wanted, and the cunt he decided he would hand the family over to.
Oh, and my secret—I suppose—ex-boyfriend who’s been fucking me under my father’s nose since I was thirteen, claiming when Father handed the family over to him, I would be his wife by default anyway, so why wait?
Who says romance is dead? Now he’s dead on the floor next to my father. And they can both rot in fucking hell.
I calm my breathing one last time as my senses come back online. I’m fully aware of everything around me. I slide my hand into my boot and pull out the knife. It’s time to become the real me, ruthless, deadly, vicious.
I walk over to Alfredo. I stare down at him.
Time to leave my calling card, my declaration of retaliation.
I stab him in the chest and then in each eye.
I look at the mess I’ve made and grin. I stab him in each eye again, forming crosses.
I hook my knife into each side of his mouth, opening it up, jagged slashes across his cheeks, almost reaching the corner of his eyes, and I grin.
“It’s the first time I’ve seen you smile motherfucker. It suits you.” I step back and take a breath.
Only God can save my soul now.
Let the games begin!