Chapter 13
Gina
There’s been an underlying tension in the house the past few days. My mother flinches anytime there’s a loud noise, and her eyes constantly dart to the doorway of whatever room she’s in.
It kills me to admit it, but I know she’s afraid of my father. And while she doesn’t bear any marks, I know those could be hidden.
I have to accept that my father is no longer the man he once was as my Babbo.
And even though now he might be a conniving bastard, he’s not stupid.
He knows that if Tommaso finds out he’s been hurting Mom or me, he’ll suffer the same fate as others who have committed this sin in their organization.
I don’t know what had been done to the previous offenders, but based on my father’s reaction when Davide reminded him, I didn’t need to know.
Whenever I try to talk about it to my mom, she either gets angry at me and reminds me how unladylike I’m being, or she shuts down.
She’s just left my room after coming to tell me to do my hair and make-up and put on the new Gucci dress and jacket they bought for me. The dress is beautiful, not some gaudy thing. That’s not my hesitation; it’s that my mom wouldn’t meet my eyes.
However, I listen and style my hair into a twist, do my make-up perfectly, then slide into the ivory-colored dress.
After slipping into my heels, I open the door and leave my room.
My steps are muted on the thick carpet until I come down the stairs and hit the marble floor. Davide is there and walks over to me.
“What’s going on?” I ask him, but he only shakes his head. “Where is Tommaso?”
For some reason, the need for him to be here is urgent, imperative. Somehow, I know something is about to happen. Foreboding and dread slither down my spine, making me want to bolt.
Davide’s jaw shifts, but other than that, his expression is unreadable. “The Don is busy.”
The Don?
Davide knows what’s been going on with Tommaso and me, even if he doesn’t know know. So, his choice of words feels…purposeful.
Or am I spiraling with nerves and reading into everything? We’re out in the open in my parents’ house, so he might have used Tommaso’s formal title just in case someone overhears us.
That makes sense.
Doesn’t it?
I don’t have time to contemplate it further because Davide leads me to my father’s office.
He doesn’t follow as I enter, closing the door, sealing me in. My stomach somersaults. Mom is in the office, sitting on the sofa, looking down at her clasped hands. From across the room, I can tell she is shaking, and the feeling of foreboding and dread intensifies.
Walking further into the office, I stiffen my spine and face my father. I feel like a trapped lamb, about to be sent off to the slaughterhouse, but I refuse to let him see that.
His calculating eyes assess me. He smiles, and the foreboding and dread within me intensifies even more.
“Father?” I use that title rather than the snarky ‘dad’ one, because I don’t want to increase the threatening feel in this office right now. I glance at my mother again before bringing my eyes back to him. “What’s going on?”
“I want to talk about your future.”
“My future?” My voice has a slight shake at the end, and I swallow, trying to steady myself.
“Yes.” He leans back in his chair, studying me. “Your future and how you’ll serve this family.”
My hands shake, and I clasp them in front of me, trying to make them stop. “What do you mean, Babbo?”
He flinches at the name I used to call him as a young girl, but then his face hardens. “Vincenzo wants you.”
The air is sucked out of my lungs at what I think he’s implying. “What do you mean?”
He stands from his chair and walks over to Mom, who cowers as he approaches. “It means that you’ll do everything exactly as you’re told.”
“I won’t,” I say before I can stop the words.
He smiles maliciously. And a shudder wracks through my body as if a frigid blast of air hit me. “I suspected you’d need a bit of coaxing.”
He’s behind the sofa and Mom. Staring straight at me, he wraps his hands around her throat.
“Franco, please—” Her plea is cut off as he tightens his hands around her throat.
I’m frozen in shock, staring in horror as my father chokes my mother. How…? How can this be the man I used to lovingly call Babbo, who held my hand smiling, and took me for ice cream? That little girl in me is screaming for her Babbo, wanting him back, not this monster.
Finally, my shock is shoved to the side, and I step forward to stop my father.
He merely tuts and increases the pressure even more as my mom’s eyes bulge and her face turns red as she tries to remove his hands. “Stay where you are, Gina, or I will kill her.”
I watch helplessly. Knowing that the only chance of my mom getting out of this is for me to hope and pray that if I obey my father, he’ll be true to his word.
“I’ll do it,” I force out through a closed throat, but he doesn’t relent. “I’ll do it!” I scream to reinforce the promise.
I also scream the words because I’m hoping Davide might hear.
Then I remember that my father’s office is soundproof, and Davide left me in here all alone.
Did he know? Is he working against Tommaso?
Or does the Don no longer care?
Mom’s nails claw at my father’s hands, trying to remove the pressure from crushing her throat, and her face is an alarming shade of red.
“Please. Let her go. I’ll do it.” Then I add more firmly, “Babbo… Father…I’ll do it; whatever you ask, I’ll comply.”
He smiles, releasing her throat, and rests his hands on her shoulders. “That’s better. But aren’t you curious what will be asked of you?”
“Yes.” My voice shakes, and I fight to control the involuntary tremors in my body. “Why would Vincenzo want me? I’m a nobody.”
“You don’t need to be a somebody to be his whore.”
What?
It feels like the floor drops out from under me. How is this my father?
He smiles, and it’s filled with malicious glee. “But you aren’t a nobody, Gina. You just don’t know how valuable you are.”
Tears fill my eyes. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re my bartering chip, princess.”
“I’m not a princess,” I whisper, but he doesn’t acknowledge that I said anything.
“At first, I was going to offer you to Tommaso to further my position with the Santoros.”
“He would never have agreed to something like that.”
“No?” My father grins, looking like a demon who clawed his way out of hell, still holding my mom’s life in his hands. “You think you know him after such a short time? He’s a powerful ruler, and you’re a na?ve, stupid little girl.”
My stomach drops, his words landing a little too close to home.
“But I realized I was being short-sighted. Tommaso may lead here, but he’ll never be king—not while he’s under Stefano’s control and command.
That’s why I aimed higher and went for the leader of the ‘Ndrangheta. It seems our goals are aligned, and Emanuele was more than interested in my offer. And with me being Pisani’s man, I’m untouchable. ”
I’m fully shaking now, unable to hide or stop it. “What are you talking about?”
He doesn’t answer my question, though. “During Emanuele and Vincenzo’s visit, we finalized all the details of the deal.
They needed to return home due to some heart problems Emanuele was experiencing, but Vincenzo will be back in a few days to take you to Catanzaro with him, and you’ll be whatever he wants you to be.
His whore, his toy to offer to others…whatever he wants. ”
“That will shame you,” I try to reason, vibrating with horror. “All the money you paid to send me to Santa Elisabetta—”
“Will be a waste?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “You’ll be a refined piece of ass, one that many in our world prefer.”
Bile almost chokes me. “The ‘Ndrangheta is against human trafficking. Call it what you want, but that’s what this is,” I shout, losing control.
“I see your spirit still needs to be tamed, broken.”
His words stall my heart, and he tightens his hands again around Mom’s throat. She’s been silent and still all through this exchange, and she doesn’t fight him now. Almost like she’s already gone and has no will to live any longer with the monster who came to reside underneath my father’s skin.
But I won’t let her die.
Screaming, I fly at my father and try to break his hold on her. My focus is on Mom and getting her free, not on attacking the madman himself.
I try to pull her away from him the second his fingers are off her neck, but a fist slams into my temple, and my vision blurs as pain explodes in my head. But I don’t give up and go for her again.
This time, he punches me in the face and then in the temple again. My world spins, and my vision blurs. When he punches me for a fourth time, I fly backward, and the back of my head hits something hard and sharp.
I groan as I slide to the floor, my vision black, but I fight with everything I have to stay conscious. When more lucidity returns, I realize I’m sitting propped up against the corner of my father’s desk, and the back of my head and neck are sticky with blood.
My father is back behind Mom. His hands aren’t around her neck, though; they’re holding the sides of her head.
“Babbo,” I cry, trying to reach the man he used to be—back when I was a small girl, before his stroke, ambition, and greed made him into this monster. “Babbo, no.” Pain pulses in my head and face. “I’ll do it! I’ll do it! Just please stop!”
His eyes are locked on mine. Then he twists sharply and breaks my mother’s neck.
No screams come. They’re locked in my throat along with my sob. Silent tears coat my cheeks as he releases her, and she slumps off the sofa and hits the floor with a thud.
“Mamma,” I choke.
My father walks over to me, but I can’t move. My head swims, my vision fades in and out. All I can hear is the sound of my mom’s neck breaking.
“Gina.” He crouches in front of me. “You think I don’t know about Tommaso? How you’re infatuated with him?”
I blink, forcing my eyes to focus on the monster who just killed my mother and who sold me to be a whore.
“You need to know, Tommaso was using you,” my father says almost gently. “He never wanted you. Not the way you thought and hoped. He was using you…wanting you to be his whore.”
I shake my head in denial, even though the motion makes me almost vomit. “No. He…he…”
“Loves you?” Father mocks. “See for yourself, na?ve, stupid girl.”
It takes a moment for me to focus on what he’s holding in front of me. And when I do, I break. Tommaso promised he’d never break me, but that picture does the trick.
It’s a news article with a picture of a stunning couple. Tommaso looks his otherworldly handsome self, powerful, wearing a tuxedo with his hair perfectly styled. He’s looking down at the woman on his arm.
She’s as gorgeous as him. As elegant, refined, and poised as Santa Elisabetta drilled into us in her stunning, haute couture white dress.
Rosa Altera.
If there was a small piece of my heart that hadn’t been broken and bleeding, the headline utterly decimates it.
San Francisco’s Most Sought-After King Has Found His Queen.
Tommaso is marrying Rosa…or maybe they’re already married, given his tux and her white dress.
His wife.
She’s his wife.
Not me.
No, Tommaso was only trying to fuck me, to make me his sidepiece. His whore to be hidden like a dirty secret while he paraded his queen—the woman who was a somebody and had something to offer him to increase his power and wealth—out in public for all the world to see.
No more tears fall as I entirely break.
And I embrace the blackness that engulfs me.