Chapter 23
Francesca
My heart had been at peace the whole night, only to break into a million pieces, yet again, once the morning came. It was so much easier when I felt like I hated him, even knowing perfectly well that hating him didn’t mean I didn’t love him.
It was just… easier. Like it was a mask that hid my love for the man who had ultimately broken me beyond repair.
At least I wasn’t feeling sick today. I felt much better after the peaceful night I had, the first restful sleep I’d had since signing those divorce papers. I absolutely needed this today. I had to bring my A-game to that meeting, and feeling as sick as I had yesterday certainly wasn’t going to help my case.
Leave it to these men to blame my sickness on my sex. I was definitely not having that.
I met with my uncle at the breakfast bar after taking a long, warm shower, hoping it was enough to ease my tight muscles along with my nerves because they would have to stay in that room.
And they did. I closed the door to that penthouse suite, closing off all my insecurities, doubts, and pants.
Yes, pants.
The problem today was me being a woman, so I’d be more of that today than I’d ever been in my life, complete with an all- feminine wardrobe to go with it. I could do everything those old men could do, and I could do it in a tight skirt and heels.
“You look particularly fresh today,” my uncle greeted me as I arrived at his table.
It was already quite late in the morning, and there weren’t many people left in the breakfast hall. From the corner of my eye, I could see Alison and Matt chatting away at another table, both of them completely oblivious to the rest of the world.
“Good morning, Zio .” Uncle. I replied with a smile as I sat down. “Yes, I feel renewed and ready for whatever the day throws at me today.”
“Perfect. We need you focused today so that our plan doesn’t fail,” he said absent-mindedly while sipping his coffee and reading the newspaper. His choice of words struck me as extremely odd.
“Our plan?” I asked, pulling the top of the newspaper down so I could see his face. He immediately stilled, glaring right back at me before a small smirk covered his face.
“Yes, Poppet. Our plan,” he motioned his head over to the Battaglia’s table. I looked at him confused, frowning as I tried to understand what he wasn’t telling me.
And then it hit me.
I finally found my why!
My mouth fell agape as I tried to think back to all the details about our divorce. Not once did he say he didn’t love me, not once did he say he married me just to get what he wanted. I said it, not him.
My suspicions were right.
“Why are you telling me this now?” I asked him, not understanding the odd timing.
“Because some new circumstances have come to my understanding, and now I think you should know about it before you enter that meeting today,” he was practically talking in code.
“What circumstances?” I questioned him as I felt my blood starting to boil.
“That I cannot tell you, child. You will have to find it out for yourself,” he replied, smirking again.
I got up from the table, grabbing an apple from his plate, and heading to the patio out back. I needed to wrap my head around this new information, and fresh air could only help.
How could I not have seen this? Was this all set in motion before or after the divorce? I felt flooded with happiness at first, but my weary and broken heart was enveloped in thorns now, throwing me back into reality.
No, this can’t be. I’m sure…
I paced around the space, my heart beating so loud it drowned out all the other sounds around me as I tried to find meaning behind my uncle’s words.
But the time was ticking, leaving me with hardly any to decide what I should do.
There’s nothing else I can do besides talk to him. Right? Find out for sure.
I walked back inside and into the lounge area, looking for Matt and Alison, not finding them anywhere.
I scoured the space from the bar to the lounge before I saw Max by the entrance, and although all I wanted to do was give him the cold shoulder after punching him in the face, I needed to know where Matt was.
“Max!” I called out.
“Mrs. Battaglia!” He chimed as he turned around, his eyes immediately widening as he realized his mistake. “Hum… I mean, Miss Amato.”
“Where’s Matt?” I kept the cold treatment, brushing off his slip-up.
“He’s out on a lunch meeting with one of the Dons. He will be back just in time for the meeting,” he replied.
“SHIT!” I cursed, running my hands through my hair. “Come with me.”
I asked the receptionist for a pen and paper, taking a secluded spot at the end of the marble counter. I sighed deeply before I started writing.
Tell me today that I am your world, and I will leave mine behind to be with you forever. Tell me you want me, and I will forget the past to be with you in the present because you are my only future. Tell me you love me, and I will be forever yours. All the rest be damned. I think I know why you did it. I just need you to come get me back if that’s what your heart desires.
Forever yours,
Francesca
“I need you to give this to Matt before the meeting,” I said, folding the note and placing it in Max’s hand. “Please. Can you promise me that? For the sake of our friendship?”
“I promise,” he nodded with a small smile on his face before turning to leave.
“Max!” I shouted, making him turn back around as a thought had just hit me. “If Matt is at a lunch meeting with one of the Dons, what are you doing here?”
“I huh, I had a different assignment today,” he replied, knowing that was only a half-truth.
“Oh… I see.”
The few hours until the meeting passed, and my anxiety grew by the minute as I stood in the conference room’s lobby waiting to be called inside.
More because I still hadn’t seen Matt return and much less about that fate-deciding meeting we were about to face. I truly hope Max had the chance to give Matt the letter I wrote, and hopefully, he will make the right decision and come for me.
For us.
“Miss Amato, shall we?” A voice called from inside the conference room as the doors opened, exposing the big table in the middle with five men sitting around it. I knew them all, with the exception of one, the one who seemed to be around Matt’s age.
“Miss Amato… Francesca, welcome,” Don Bartolini greeted me, making his way over to me placing a kiss on each of my cheeks.
The other Dons stood up as I went around the table, greeting them all in the same way. First, my uncle, then Matt, making my heart race faster as soon as he touched my skin, followed by Don Fiori, ending with the only person I didn’t recognize in the room. The same man that had been sitting at the bar last night with Matt.
“ Buongiorno , I’m Vincenzo Massimo.” Good morning , he said, flashing me a handsome smile that seemed somewhat familiar before kissing me, as did the others. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you, Francesca.”
“ Buongiorno , Don Massimo. Indeed, we had not,” I replied as he took my hand and took me over to the empty seat, pulling it out for me before I sat down. “I could have done that, but thank you.”
I sat down, peering at Matt, trying to find any sign of a reaction to my letter. But there was none. If I was here in this room right now, he had made his decision. And I… I wasn’t it!
“Well,” Don Bartolini started. He was one grumpy, old-fashioned, Italian sexist, and I was sure that whatever he had to say about this whole situation would be undoubtedly pejorative towards me and probably women in general. “We’ve received a proposal from your uncle, Don Amato, nominating you as his successor. We have already debated some of your qualities in your absence, but as you know, this is a man’s job. That’s the reason you don’t see any other women here in this room. But let’s address another matter first. You are married to Don Battaglia.”
“No, Don Bartolini, she's not! We’ve gone over this already. She’s no wife of mine,” Matt replied in a harsh and cold tone, making all heads turn to him as I stopped a shiver from driving down my spine.
I kept my emotions at bay under a mask of indifference, but deep down, his sharp words cut right through me.
“Fortunately, I am now a happily divorced man,” he said proudly, smiling, making me crumble into pieces that fed the new hell that was released inside me.
He read the letter and made his choice. I was wrong, after all. He could have helped my uncle with this, but he must have had some good and juicy retribution for it.
“Exactly, Don Bartolini. As Don Battaglia eloquently said, thankfully, we are divorced,” I kept my mask on. There was no turning back now.
“Good, good. That leaves us with your other… condition,” he said with disdain, waving his hand at my body. This man had such distaste towards women I could almost swear he was dominated by one at home. There was no way he needed to overcompensate this much if he didn’t feel inferiorized by us.
“And what condition is that?” I feigned ignorance.
“You’re a woman,” he replied, spitting the words out as if they were venomous. “Women are weak. They are not cut out for this life. You are emotional and are driven by them, which makes you weak and not suitable to run a Mafia family, never mind having a seat at this specific table.”
“I agree with Don Bartolini. Having a woman at this table is not a sign of the strength we thrive by, and we are only as strong as our weakest link. We do not want to send a message of debility to our enemies. The Bratva and the Yakuza would have a feast of this,” Matt said, and I couldn’t believe my ears.
He was taking it all. Taking everything I could ever hold dear. How could he be this person when he had been holding me like his most prized possession just a few hours ago?
First, he broke my heart, and now he was denying me the only thing that could make me overcome it.
There was no denying that his words struck me, but I kept my emotions at bay. I could not seem weak, so I focused my gaze, staring into nothing, just watching as Matt rolled his wedding ring around his finger with his thumb.
Wait!
His wedding ring? I focused again, just for a second, before Matt took his hand off the table, placing it on this lap, away from my line of vision.
No, there was no way that was his wedding ring. He was wearing it on his right hand, so it couldn’t be.
“Besides, the rules of our ancestors are against it.”
“How convenient is it to rely on rules that go back a century all of a sudden? Of course, for men, you find loopholes, excuses, and a way around any rule if it suits your interest. Like with that one.” I pointed towards Matt. “The rules say you have to be fully Italian to be a Don, never mind a Don with a seat in The Commission, yet you still bent that damn rule to accept a half-breed because it fucking suited your ambitions. Am I wrong?”
“This is not the Cosa Nostra’s future. And if I’m wrong about that, we are all doomed. I know we have two much younger members here, with progressive thinking like you kids like to call it nowadays, but I’m sure they share my opinion when I say that I will only bow to a woman over my dead body. And the same goes for all the mafiosi , all the men who work for us, respect us, and follow us for our strength and power. So, this proposition will not be accepted by The Commission. Again… over my dead body,” Don Bartolini continued to state his case, making my fury ignite and flare high with every word. In a land of men, a woman with dreams is a witch. No matter what century we live in.
“That can be arranged, Don Bartolini. Be careful with what you wish for,” Don Massimo chimed, clearly irritated.
“Is that a threat, Boy?” Don Bartolini asked.
“Not at all. In the same way that you also did not just decide for the rest of the members of this Commission. So, here’s my vote, Francesca Amato, you are welcomed by the Massimo family to join us as an equal, to be Don of the Amato family and an active and voting member of The Commission.”
“How can you vote her in? I bet she can’t even stand the sight of blood, just like any woman I know. They try to show themselves as strong and independent, but it’s nothing but a fa?ade,” Don Bartolini shouted. The tension was palpable all around the room, but I couldn’t just stand here listening to all this nonsense.
“Blood is not an issue. I’ve seen more of it than most of you in this room. And I can assure you that, for about a week a month, my murderous tendencies are way above any of yours. Weakness is not a word in my dictionary. I can very well control the men. Mine, yours, or whoever you place in front of me,” I stated, both my confidence and annoyance evident in every word.
“You are proving my point. That’s why you shouldn’t be here. Instability is not a good feature to have when you are running these kinds of businesses.”
I’d had enough. I abruptly stood up and drew my gun from the holster tied around my thigh, pointing it at Don Bartolini’s head, pushing the metal slightly against it as he gasped in shock.
“See... Completely stable, I’m not even shaking,” I said in a condescending tone.
The room froze. Not a breath or a whisper as I took my time before speaking again, allowing time to stop for a moment since men are a little slower and need the concession.
“Just because I pack differently than you do, literally and figuratively, doesn’t mean I’m any less capable. If Don Battaglia had a pair, he could attest to my capabilities, but even when you are physically equipped with those, it doesn’t always mean you know how to use them.” I saw the light smirk that crossed Matt’s face before he wiped it off, replacing it with the same frown he had on since I came in, quickly lighting a cigarette to mask his amusement as Don Massimo loudly laughed.
“Don Fiori, what say you?” Don Massimo finally said, still trying to stifle his laughter, as I lowered my gun and returned to my seat with my head held high, proud to have made that dirty mouth of Don Bartolini’s gasp in fear of a woman.
“Well, I never thought this day would come. Ma voterò a favore . My vote is in favor . Benvenuta , Francesca.” Welcome . Don Fiori replied with unshakable confidence.
“Don Battaglia?” Don Massimo asked, turning to Matt.
“ Per me, è un NO! ” For me, it’s a NO! He grunted. I could taste the bitterness implied in those words.
I can’t believe how na?ve I was. How could he have played me like this? All of it just confused the hell out of me. He was prepared to take away my dreams yet again after kissing me with all the love he held inside of him. I could feel it. There was no way he could have faked that.
“Doesn’t really matter anyway,” Don Massimo said, clasping and rubbing his hands together. “Francesca, you have been accepted as the successor of Don Amato, and a member of this Commission. We shall schedule your òmerta as soon as possible.”
“Don Fiori, are you out of your mind?! A woman? A DIVORCED WOMAN? Is this what this institution is reduced to?” Don Bartolini protested once again, standing and making his seat tip back in outrage.
“Oh, shut it! Votes have been cast. If you find it in your interest, we can always seize this opportunity to nominate a new family to take over your territory since the deliberations of The Commission seem to not be of your liking,” Don Massimo charged again. I was starting to like him. I didn’t exactly understand why he was taking this position, but I could relate to the sass in his words.
“We don’t even have a name for you. We are the men of honor, wise men, good fellas... What the hell will we call you?” Don Bartolini tried again.
“ Donna Amato?” I answered sarcastically before Matt’s voice erupted from his swollen chest, tearing my gaze away from Don Bartolini as a shiver ran down my spine at the sound of his meaningful words, sealing our fate apart from each other forever.
“ La prima Donna! ”