2. Carina
CHAPTER 2
Carina
I used to live my life in ignorant bliss, but after my rebirth everything has changed.
Before I saw the world through a scope. Only allowed to see through the widened lens that my papa controlled. He magnified all the beautiful things life had to offer. Kept my eyes focused on the matters that had no correlation to the life he led.
Although I was always aware of papa’s occupation, even feared him because papa was a man who was meant to be feared, I was never inducted in The Fiore Famiglia.
Their life was always just outside of the lens. Exactly how it was meant to be.
Then papa decided to widen the scope. Little by little as I grew I started to see things that no young woman nor young adult should see.
And then the night of my rebirth the scope he controlled he had snatched away without warning. I was thrust into a life, forced to see the harsh and bitter reality of the world and the darkness that came with it.
I was forced with a choice. A choice that every member of The Fiore Famiglia was given.
But that choice stole everything I held dear. And it drained all the innocence I once had.
I now see the world the way it’s meant to be seen.
The very same way papa and Luca do.
Before I saw all the beauty in it but now I see how hideous mankind truly is. How it reeks of desperation and litters every corner. And for every good man I believed there was, I now know there are twice as many who are sinister.
In our Catholic Church I would listen to the priest talk of Heaven and Hell. How we are blessed that the angels are here to guide us. To protect us from the sins of the devil. To protect us from his demons.
He spoke of God in constant praise. He worshiped the all mighty in a way papa and Luca have never done. Father Frank spoke of God as thy King. And Father Frank saw himself as one of God’s precious soldiers. To spread the word of God to protect the people from sin and damnation. Reminding us all that in life we must have compassion. That there must be redemption for us all. Father Frank’s purpose was to protect us from an eternity in Hell.
If only Father Frank knew that Hell is already here and the devil walks amongst us and we lose ourselves to his temptation every day.
We fall deeper into sin until we’re cloaked with a darkness that can not see the light.
My mamma used to say to me that life is to be viewed as a rose. Captivating in its beauty but to always be aware of the thorns. For the rose will deceive you with its blinding bold vibrancy, but it’s the thorns that you neglect to see that will get you.
I wish I was ashamed to say that the thorns have gotten me.
But my rebirth took away my shame along with my innocence.
I am what I never wanted to become.
A villain.
But there is one thing that papa and Luca don’t know. One thing that might be the hiccup on their precious chess board that could ruin everything.
On the night of my rebirth I was also born with a resentment so deep and a hatred so strong that I have lost every other functioning emotion.
And that resentment and hatred didn’t only extend to my papa and my dear older brother, Luca. It also extends to the man who forced me to get pricked by the thorns. The one who forced my papa to snatch away the scope. The one who made me become a piece on the chess board for Luca to claim another victory to bestow to papa.
My deepest resentment and my strongest hatred lies with him.
Constantine Donati.
The king of the underworld who sits upon the throne my papa claims is his.
The infamous Don of The Donati Famiglia who has charmed the media and beguiled the hearts of women across the east coast while simultaneously ruling the underworld with an iron fist.
Everyone respects Constantine Donati out of fear. Some men are even afraid to whisper his name. Petrified they’ll conjure him up out of thin air to claim their souls.
Since my rebirth I’ve become well known of his name.
I’ve tasted it on my tongue a thousand times and I loathe the taste. It’s bitter with a pinch of sweetness that promises carnal wickedness.
It’s because of him, after all, that I’ve become the most important piece on Luca’s chess board.
I grit my teeth as I stand on the outskirts of the perfectly shined dark marbled floor. I’m half tempted to take my six inch Louis Vuitton black heels and scratch them along the pristine floor.
But if I have learned one thing from my papa it’s to not let your emotions control you. You are to remain indifferent at best but must always wear a smile to charm and deceive.
I am not the best at wearing a smile. Not when I have nothing to smile for. It feels wrong on my lips and my facial muscles always strain to keep it in place.
Since my rebirth I’ve adopted what has been known as resting bitch face.
Although I miss the bright smiles I once adorned, I can admit that this new face I’ve adopted has its perks.
People think twice before opening their mouth to me. Hardly anyone approaches me, which is a blessing in disguise because I can’t stand to be around people anymore. Least of all the people papa and Luca parade me around.
I much prefer living in the shadows.
Perhaps papa and Luca didn’t count for that when they thrusted me in this life. It’s one thing to become darkness but wanting to live there?
That was unacceptable.
Blasphemy.
But I’ve become most comfortable with myself in the dark. Observing people through my new eyes and taking note of each of their strengths and most importantly their weaknesses.
Unlike my papa and Luca I don’t need to interact with people to know of their intentions.
I also have no desire to impress anyone.
You see, in this world, in this dark corrupt world it’s about being impressionable. If you impress the right person your life is spared. . .for now.
But I don’t worry about that ridiculous notion.
This is me, Carina Fiore, if you like me or not either way I could give a fuck less.
I am unapologetically me.
At least my rebirth has given me that. I no longer feel the need to please everyone.
But I have to keep up pretenses if I want to stay alive.
And that I do.
“You could at least smile, mia Carina,” my brother scolds me through terse lips. I spare a glance at him. His chocolate brown hair slicked back with gel and his face perfectly shaved to show his masculine features. His blue eyes are sharper than knives as they regard me with odium.
Whereas I have already proved myself in papa’s eyes I have yet to do so in his.
He continues scolding me discreetly, “You are supposed to look appealing not act as a repellent .”
I fight the maddening urge to roll my eyes but I mustn’t show disrespect. Especially the crowd in which we are given. If a mere woman shows disrespect to an Underboss, nonetheless, in public, it means he doesn’t know how to rule his men.
Honestly, I have no problem with showing such blatant disrespect to my brother, it’s the beatings that follow afterwards that I’m not fond of.
I still remember the lashings I received a few months ago. Right after I rebelled after my rebirth. The scars I bare on my back are not worn with pride but serve as a reminder not to be disrespectful once again.
On the warmer days, when the sun is blistering and the heat beats down on my skin I swear I can feel my back burning.
Five lashes.
I had to count each one given and if I didn’t I would receive two more for the one I forgot.
I didn’t forget.
Arching a cool brow at my brother I reply smartly, “Your bow tie is too tight, fratello. All of the blood seems to be rushing to your head.” I would snicker if I could but that would draw attention.
My brother’s face flusters further. The one thing my brother has failed that I have succeeded is not showing my anger or annoyance.
He touches his bow tie with his long lean fingers that have shed more blood than a butcher. Then he tightens it before smoothing his hands down the lapels of his tuxedo.
“Disrespect me again and you’ll earn yourself another lashing,” he threatens lowly.
“It was merely an observation. Why else would your skin be redder than the fresh tomatoes in our garden?” My play with words and my intelligence with flirting around the line of disrespect but never outright doing so pushes my brother’s supposedly nonexistent buttons. It gives me a certain thrill, almost a genuine smile to know that I get under his impenetrable skin.
“Your observation can be kept to yourself. You must not speak in this manner towards The Don,” he stresses heavily, as if it’s not already ingrained in my brain.
But because this is the only sense of enjoyment I’ve had this evening, no matter how sick or twisted it is, I reply innocently, “You mean speaking of fact?”
He grunts. His blue eyes flash with anger as they pierce through my skin. “If it is not a compliment I advise you to keep your mouth shut.”
“Then I guess I’ll remain silent for the rest of the evening.”
“You’re childish, Carina.”
“And you are depressingly boring.”
His nostrils flare. I even see his hand twitch by his side. The anger he has towards me is palpable. It’s impossible not to see the tension between us. “You must have enjoyed the last lashing because you are begging for another.”
I shrug nonchalantly. A lashing for getting under my dear brother’s skin is one I won’t mind. At least I had accomplished something to earn it. “I thought we were simply pointing out one another’s personality traits, forgive me if I misunderstood.”
Sneering down at me he grabs my wrist and applies an impressive amount of pressure. I stare up at him with a bored expression upon my face when I can feel my skin bruising.
“You may very well be in papa’s good graces but if you don’t accomplish what is expected of you tonight then you will face his wrath,” he reminds me of the severity of what tonight means for The Fiore Famiglia, what it means for me. I go to pull my wrist away from him but he tightens his grip. I narrow my eyes at him and fight the wince that wants to break free. I’ll never cower to any man, least of all my brother. “And trust me, I will enjoy watching it.”
Of course. I wouldn’t expect any different.
Luca Fiore is a sadistic man who takes pleasure in anyone’s pain.
But he also likes to remain the apple of our papa’s eyes. The favorite. His most important chess piece.
It must burn him to know that I am that piece for papa.
“If you don’t remove your hand I will scream,” I warn him lowly. “And trust me, caro fratello, I never bluff.”
His eyes continue to throw daggers at me but he does begrudgingly release his relentless grip on my wrist.
My bones cry in relief. I’m about to caress my now inflamed and red skinned wrist when the hall becomes silent as everyone’s attention goes to the luxurious staircase.
My heels click loudly against the floor as I turn to find what has everyone both on edge and standing at attention.
The trail of my silk black dress that clings tightly to my skin makes a gentle swoosh. Even the sound of that is too loud.
I would flush from embarrassment but I’m incapable of feeling that anymore.
There at the top of the luxurious dark marbled staircase that perfectly matches the floor is the one and only Constantine Donati.
In my research on him prior to this evening my eyes had only seen pictures of him. The ones of him in designer suits that no average man could afford or even dream of affording paired with a smile that charmed and coal black eyes that deceived everyone of his true intentions.
But the pictures, as recent and high resolution as they were, did no justice to the man who stands before us all.
They didn’t capture the strong line of his jaw. Sharp enough to cut the throat of any man and his perfectly trimmed scruff that accentuates his prominent cheekbones.
It didn’t hold the sheer size of him. His bulky frame is made of pure muscle and is more intimidating in person. His black three piece suit hugs his body but it strains across his shoulders.
Nor did it quite catch how brilliant and dazzling his smile truly is. In pictures I found it hard to believe how just a smile of his could make anyone swoon. It’s almost off putting how regal he is.
And I want to shred every picture for doing him such an injustice. Not because of how dashingly handsome he is but because those pictures led me to believe I would be meeting a different man. I want to tear them apart piece by piece because they deceived me. And because they deceived me I feel foolish.
I haven’t felt foolish since my rebirth.
He descends the staircase and his premium leather Italian shoes hardly make a sound.
I hate how that impresses me given his size.
If I hated him before I absolutely loathe him now. He’s made me feel two things that I haven’t since my rebirth, and for that alone I want to kill him.
Deciding between my Louis Vuitton heels, a knife or a gun will be tough.
As he makes the final step he does one clap that thunders. With those large hands I bet he could smash a man’s head between them with ease.
The thought should disturb me.
The fact that it doesn’t is alarming.
“I want to thank you all for coming tonight,” he begins in a voice that is deep and rich. One that calls to the darkness in all of us. I hate how smooth it sounds to my ears. I despise how his Italian accent that has never left his native tongue is pleasing to hear. “Your donations to the foundation will greatly affect the youth battling with cancer. Last year we raised over ten million dollars. Tonight I expect to see that number doubled. Please, enjoy yourselves. I know that I will.” Cameras flash as he winks at the crowd. I can see him in tomorrow’s newspaper now. Front page with the headline reading, Constantine Donati, a hero we didn’t know we needed.
I have to stop myself from scoffing. The idea of him being a hero is so far out of reach it’s not even funny. But the media adores him. He has them under his spell. With the media perceiving him as the good guy and the police trying to frame him as the bad, he's caught the attention of everyone. He has people who are rooting for him and people who are wishing for his demise.
And then you have me, a woman who wants absolutely nothing to do with him but is being forced by her papa and dearest brother to be his wife.
That’s why I’m the most important piece on the chess board.
That’s why this evening has severe consequences if I fuck up.
Papa has offered my hand in marriage to the infamous Constantine Donati. This very evening, the evening where we meet for the first time, is when he will make his decision.
And with his decision will also lie my fate.