Chapter 6 – Penelope
T here was no proof that the delay in meeting with Uncle Tito was because Mr. Mancini was seeking vengeance. But he monopolized my uncle’s time, and when afternoon rolled around, the men disappeared. Poppy didn’t know where they went and said it was the nature of their business operations. She didn’t admit what her father did, saying that his construction company was very demanding. She never mentioned the real business behind the legal front. Until I spoke to my uncle, I didn’t want to confess more of what I knew about our family legacy, so I didn’t push for details.
Lounging around her house, curiosity mixed with the impending weight of the conversation threatened to drive me crazy.
How could my cousin just sit there, working on some needle art project while the men were out doing heaven knew what? It was nothing short of insanity! Something out of a hundred-year-old novel.
But there was a wedding planner who was handling all the arrangements, which left Poppy with little to do. When my sister Jillian married, we did everything from the decorations—which were hunting themed, because burnt orange and fall were her taste—to making the food and setting up at the local rec center. While it was nice not to have to make a hundred and fifty table decorations, there was an out-of-touch feeling that made this wedding seem not quite real. I very much doubted my cousin felt that way, though.
After a quiet dinner, Poppy curled up with a book before the electric fireplace. The flickering flames made me instantly miss the log hearth back home. When Mom and Dad built their snug cabin after they first married, the fireplace was the center to Mom’s vision. She even cooked over it sometimes, while us girls dressed up in prairie costumes and pretended we lived in the 1800s.
Fighting the nostalgia of home, I flicked through my phone, too fidgety to read on my Kindle but also too nervous to text my sister with an update from the Bismarck hospital. The glass of red wine on the side table wasn’t helping matters.
“Whatcha readin’?” I asked, dropping my phone and scrubbing my hands over my face.
Poppy hummed and looked up from her book. “Sorry, what did you say?”
I grinned. “Must be good. What’s the book about?”
“Oh, um, it’s okay.” She held up the hardback so I could read the cover.
And my eyes about fell from my skull. It was an inspirational treatise about happiness in marriage.
“Honey, if you need this—” I started to say but stopped abruptly. “It’s not my place.”
Poppy glanced to the door, double checking that the drill sergeant was well and truly gone for the night. “I was hoping it would explain things.”
“Things?” I hedged, sitting up straighter and taking a sip of my wine. “What kind of things, mouse?”
She chewed her lip for a moment. “I don’t know what to do , Penny.”
I frowned, unsure what was best to say, and not wanting to tell her outright that if she had doubts, she shouldn’t go through with it.
“I don’t know how to…be intimate,” she whispered.
She didn’t…. Had no one talked….
Oh, sweet mother of god.
“You’re a virgin?” I whispered back, scooting to the other end of the couch so I was next to her armchair. “That’s not a bad thing!” I rushed to add. “If you haven’t found the right guy, doing it can be uncomfortable.”
The look on her face made me immediately want to smack myself.
Mancini was not the right guy.
“Do you, um, know the basic mechanics?” I fumbled for the words to make this conversation less abrupt.
Her cheeks infused with a bright blush. “Of course. The last nanny told me what happened when I became a woman.”
I rubbed my hand over my face to hide the look I couldn’t keep off it. “Then why are you reading that?”
Poppy dropped her face into her hands, and the book slid onto the floor with a deafening thud. “Signor Mancini is never going to see me as a woman. As a wife. This needs to work, Penny. And I don’t know how to make him fall in love with me!”
That was because a beast like him wasn’t capable of love! I wanted to scream the truth at the top of my lungs, but I bit my tongue.
I rushed to shut the double doors, not wanting to be surprised during this conversation. “Okay, first, do you even want him to love you?”
Poppy nodded eagerly. “He’s a really good match.”
Then why do you sound like you’re trying to convince yourself? My hands fisted at my side.
“Can you help me?” she asked hopefully.
I fought back a groan. Could I? I would go to the ends of the world to help her, but this? How did I help her prepare to be a virgin sacrifice?
“I can try,” I murmured.
“Oh, thank you! I knew you would know what to do. You’ve had boyfriends, and you’re so worldly.”
Someone save me! I cleared my throat. “What you need then is to feel…sexy?”
That earned me a vigorous nod. “A sex goddess—yes! Like you!”
I groaned again. If she knew the kinds of things I’d done to earn extra money when funds were tight…. Sex goddess? More like dancing queen in a sweaty pole building around drunk farmers and ranchers. And when they got too handsy, those couple of close calls before the bouncers stopped drinking long enough to pay attention and help—
I was not going there. Nothing bad had ever happened, and it didn’t pay to dwell on things that could have been.
“Okay, first, you need to ditch most of your wardrobe. It’s pretty, and I’m sure it was expensive, but you look really young.”
Poppy chewed on her lip. “I can try.”
Next, I pulled out my phone. “This is the Kindle Reading App. Are you familiar with Kindle?”
“Oh, yes!” She nodded, passing me her iPhone.
I clicked around the screen. “Stupid iPhone.”
“What are you trying to do?” She leaned over to look. “Oh, sorry. That won’t work.”
The answer was obvious a moment later. “You have a parental lock.”
“Yeah,” she muttered, dropping back into her seat.
This poor kid! Sheltered didn’t even begin to describe it.
How the hell did they expect her to marry someone like Mancini? He might be an ass, but it was clear as day that he was virile. Worldly. Smoldering.
That word made my stomach do a little flip.
Resisting taking another swig of wine, I drummed my fingers against my thigh.
“Okay, well, pirating is wrong, but there are good books on a place called Wattpad and other sites.” I gave up and took a long pull at the glass of red. “Do you know Harry Potter?”
Poppy chuckled. “I might be green, but I’m not that out of touch with the world.”
“What if Hermione and Draco ended up together?” At her wide-eyed expression, I knew I had her hooked. I proceeded to give her the blurb and hook of a certain fanfiction book as I downloaded it. “My favorite is Manacled , but it’s dark. There are others that are spicy without the intensity—you need to work up to something as emotionally destructive as Manacled . Let’s see.”
I scrolled through the few books I knew about on the free sites.
“Here’s one! Fantasy Romance with fae who are enemies but become lovers. It’s very spicy,” I mused. Maybe too spicy for Poppy. But she had to start somewhere.
“You’ve read it?” my cousin asked.
I shook my head. “Not this one, but it has rave reviews by people I trust. It will be good,” I decided. “If you want a marriage where you drive your man crazy, reading about smoldering attraction is the way to do it.”
There it was with that word again!
I blamed it on the electric fire that wasn’t turning into coals.
After taking her phone back, Poppy began to read. From the small noises she made, I knew I’d just blown her mind. I mentally patted myself on the back and finally opened my own book.
It was half past midnight before the front door opened.
Loud voices broke the cozy ambiance. Poppy jumped, the haze of enjoyment swiped off her face and replaced by a guilty wobble.
“But if we go talk to Gianetti, make him see reason,” Massimo reasoned, his voice carrying through the closed doors.
“Don't look like your hand was in the cookie jar, mouse, and they won't know the kind of things you read,” I laughed, patting my cousin as I rose.
“This book is sssooo good!” she whispered, tagging along behind me. “Are there...more books like this?”
“Loads and loads,” I promised, pulling the door open and stepping into the hall. “I've got you.”
Was it smart to drop an unsuspecting virgin, who was also new to smut, into something as kinky as dark, forbidden romance? Probably not. Should have eased her into the genre. But then again, she was getting married before the end of the month. There wasn’t time to introduce her slowly. If the marriage went through—which I was still determined it wouldn’t—she would need all the help she could get.
“That is not an option—” Uncle Tito spat, face blotchy and anger glittering in his eyes.
I pulled up short. I misread their loud entrance. Coming from a large family, no one was quiet. So I hadn’t assumed father and son were arguing.
I flashed them a smile as I called out, “Glad you’re back! Did you guys want something to eat?”
Massimo scowled. “Thanks, mimma, but I’m headed to bed.”
Uncle Tito growled in Italian, “Remember your place, boy. You’re not a leader yet.”
Poppy tugged at my arm, but I shooed her upstairs. “I’m going to make a piece of toast. Want one?” I offered my uncle.
Muttering a string of grouchy opinions, he nodded and followed me into the kitchen.
“What is it that you want to talk about?” He went straight to the point.
My fingers closed around the fresh loaf in the bread box, and I whispered a quick prayer to any saint listening.
“Spit it out, I haven’t got all night,” he grumped, falling onto a barstool. “And don’t bother denying it, that’s why you waited up all night.”
“Mom needs heart surgery.” I kept the shake from my voice as I slid the knife back and forth.
The dollop of butter crackling in the skillet was the only sound in the room. I placed two slices of bread in the butter, swiped the crumbs onto my palm to dispose in the sink, and proceeded to grab plates.
Only then did I turn to my uncle. “I want to give her the best chance possible. I want to send her to Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota.”
“Bismarck won’t do the surgery?” He tipped his head to the side, studying me.
I shook my head. “They wrote her off. They want to make her comfortable. There’s a doctor in Fargo who will try. But they’re not Mayo.”
“She never said....” Uncle Tito’s voice trailed off.
I bit my tongue. It was better he process the news, and when he was ready, we could discuss how best to take action.
The slices caramelized nicely. I put a healthy smear of butter on the toast, glad that he had grass-fed, real butter.
It would taste like home.
Because she married a rancher, Mom did everything homestead. We made our own bread, butter, and lived off the land. What we couldn’t grow, we sourced locally. Those things were what kept her so healthy for so long. But heart defects didn’t care about lifestyle. They cropped up when least expected.
My uncle ate his toast noisily.
I stood across the island, telling myself I was in the barn with the milk cow and not another human. No one should chew that loudly and then proceed to lick their fingers clean.
“You need money.”
His question jerked me from the mental retreat I sent my mind on. “Yes, and I’m willing to work for it.”
Appreciation flicked in his eyes. “When your mother left, my father warned her there wouldn’t be a cent.”
I knew that. “But he also said there’d be no contact. And we’ve spent many family vacations with you and the cousins.”
Uncle Tito nodded. “I’m not my father. I know a good thing when I see it. Your appearance couldn’t have come at a better time.”
There was a note of something in his tone. It slithered through me, spreading a thin layer of unease. Collecting the plates, I dropped soap on them and proceeded to scrub. The very state of my world might be hanging in the balance, but cleaning—doing something that needed to be done—grounded me.
When I was done, I turned. “I’ll do anything, zio. You’ve got to have something I can do, some job. I’ll work as long as it takes.”
“Don’t think me so heartless that I won’t help my only sister,” my uncle said quietly.
Relief, sweet and beautiful, rushed through me.
“Oh, thank you, thank you!”
Uncle Tito held up his hand. “You’ll remain with us while your mother receives treatment and is recovering. I have a few ideas how you can help me.”
Translation: Work off the debt. That was exactly what I needed to hear.
But now that he’d said it, I braced myself for the other shoe to drop. The ultimate question played through my mind. What the hell did a morally questionable businessman like my uncle, who worked outside the legal avenues, want with a country girl like me?
“I’ll do anything,” I asserted. He needed to see my resolve and determination.
“I’ll find a use for you,” he promised, sensing my uncertainty.
“But nothing illegal, right?” I blurted out.
Ah, shit. Me and my big mouth!
Uncle Tito frowned. “Now why would I ask you to do that?”
There was no use pretending. Everything needed to come out in the open if this was going to work.
“I know what my grandfather was,” I gulped. “I know the empire he left you, the legacy my mother walked away from. I want in.”
There—I said it.
Tito leaned back, an impressed whistle played on his lips. “My darling niece, you want to join the mob.”
“I do.” I squared my shoulders. “There’s opportunity in this line of work, better than I’ll find in North Dakota.”
“Opportunity?” he mused.
I shrugged. “It’s no secret that I wasn’t the best student in school. I barely graduated, and I’ve had no prospects to advance myself in a trade like my sister.”
“Jillian became a nurse, right?” Tito rubbed his five o’clock shadow.
“Yes.” And I paid in glitter and sweat to make sure she could follow her dreams. It was my turn to dream now, my turn to seize the day. “I’m a hard worker. Give me a chance to prove I can be of use to you—to our famiglia.”
My uncle studied me. “But you just said you don’t want to do anything illegal.”
Crap. I backpedaled quickly to fix that slipup. “I mean killing,” I said bluntly. “I’ll beg, borrow, and steal, but I don’t want to be a murderer.”
“I see,” he hummed.
“I’ll do whatever you need me to. Let me work for you, give me this chance, and all I ask in return is to cover my mother’s medical bills.”
Would he do it? His poker face was unreadable.
I sent a prayer to the Blessed Mother.
The smile that curled my uncle’s lips could have curdled milk. The toast somersaulted in my gut. “You’re so smart, Penelope. Much smarter than your parents.”
That was highly doubtful. None of my six siblings had come to strike a deal with the devil. My dad never talked about my mom’s family, and Mom hadn’t even told her brother about the surgery. Was I smart for coming out here? Or did I just sell my soul?
“Don’t worry,” he assured me. “I would never ask you to compromise yourself, carina. But the fact that you know about your heritage will make it easier to work together, yes?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “You’ll have me?”
“Well, of course.” His grin broadened. “I’m not a fool, I know a good opportunity when I see one.”
Relief flowed through me. It was done. I was in!
Holy shit. I just joined the mob. My heart began to patter with a new vigor.
“We’ll talk about your conscription later. For now, I’ll say goodnight.” My uncle rose, kissed me on both cheeks, and disappeared.
I stood near the sink, feeling like I’d just been thrown from a horse and trying to breathe through the roiling emotions. I’d done it, but it felt more uncertain than before.
Poppy went to bed over an hour ago. It had been three nights since the midnight snack with my uncle. So far, my only duty was keeping Poppy company. But that wasn’t good enough for me.
I sold myself to the mob to pay for my mother’s surgery. And if I didn’t find a place to fit in, my uncle could technically renege on our deal. It was doubtful he would, but I wasn’t taking any chances. The second—and probably more pressing—reason for my unrest, was that I wanted to actually be useful. To do that, I should know every detail of this organization. My whole life had been spent filling in where needed. If I understood where a need was first , I could insert myself.
I can make something of myself.
This was my birthright after all, like a long-lost princess coming home to the kingdom. Looking at it that way helped my conscience deal with the fact that most of the business dealings weren’t above board.
There was one person who might be able to show me the ropes. It was simply a matter of catching him on his way out. So I waited. Predictably, a little after ten, I heard steps on the stairs. I bolted from my room.
“Max!” I called in a stage whisper.
My cousin stopped short. “Penny, why aren’t you in bed?”
I tugged the jean jacket firmly over my tee and hurried after him. “Because, silly, I’m coming with you!”
Massimo blanched. “Mimma,” he warned.
I held up my hand. “I’m your newest recruit! Yes, yes, I know, I’m behind in my training. But I’m going to prove myself as an associate and work my way into being sworn as a Made Man.”
Before coming to Detroit, I spent weeks watching and reading everything I could find about mob history in America. Michael Franzese, a real mobster from the Colombo crime family had a lot of fascinating information on the internet. He’d been my starting point. I dug and dug, enjoying the research process. Now I felt confident and was familiar with the concepts of organized crime and how it differed from the drug rings and gangs.
I stopped short before my croaking cousin. With a nudge, I urged him down the stairs. “Didn’t you hear? I’m going to join the family business. Your dad and I arranged it the other night.”
“Penelope, women don’t participate in the mob.” The use of my full name, coupled with my cousin’s stern expression, would have cowed a more timid soul.
Not me.
Pinning Massimo with a hard look, I began to tick off the names of bosses who were female.
But my cousin cut me off. “Rare cases. The way the mob works in America, families—women and children—are off limits. For a reason. Unlike the original organizations back in the Old World, we have a code.”
Michael Franzese had said as much. But that wasn’t stopping me.
“Your father said—”
“There are other ways women serve,” Massimo said in a low voice.
I blinked. “Like your sister.”
He paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “That’s part of the tradition.”
No, it wasn’t. My cousin was being bartered. There was some arrangement between my uncle and the monstrous groom. While my blood boiled at the thought of her being essentially sold, I had to remain focused on my role in this grand scheme.
I squared my shoulders. “I’m going to be a Made Man—a Made Woman. I’m tough. I can do whatever you do, Max.”
A smile cracked over his face. “Bet?”
“Bet!” I stuck out my hand.
“What I’m doing tonight is running surveillance. It’s nothing compromising, so there shouldn’t be a problem with you tagging along.” His eyes glittered with mischief. “Let’s go, recruit! Just remember, you wanted this.”
I do. I wanted this.