4. Carina
CHAPTER 4
Carina
W hen I was a little girl I remember mamma desperately wanting to leave New York City.
She called it, The City of Death.
I never understood what she meant. Papa had controlled the lens back then.
For all the beauty I saw my mamma reminded me of the thorns. I can still hear her to this day, her soft yet firm voice always telling me, ‘Carina, be careful of the thorns. You must watch out for the thorns.’
I had no clue what she had meant.
The only thing I knew is that mamma wanted to take me as far away from The City of Death as she possibly could. She feared that it would one day stain my soul. Tarnish it black like it had already done to my brothers.
There was no saving them, she said. Papa made them become one with The City of Death. It was in their blood now, the city running through their veins and poisoning them.
At the age of thirteen I wasn’t poisoned yet and mamma had held onto hope with bloody fingers that I would remain that way.
Mamma never wanted me involved with the family business. She kept me close to her side as much as possible. She would tell me that one day we wouldn’t have to smell the stench of death and we would be free from the darkness.
But mamma was a dreamer. She wasn’t born in The City of Death like Luca, Elio and I. Mamma was born in the romantic city of Florence, Italy.
In her youth they would hear the story of Dante and Beatrice. They grew up believing in love and that love is sacred. All the girls had aspired to be someone’s Beatrice. And when my papa visited Florence from Sicily mamma swore she had finally found her Dante.
Their love was a fairytale in the beginning. Papa had written her poems just as Dante had written poems about Beatrice. He would bring her roses every time that they would meet. He’d take her to lavish restaurants and spoil her with jewels. Profess his love to her any chance that he could.
Papa was in love with my mamma.
Or rather he was in love with the idea of her.
Dante loved Beatrice because she was his savior. She was a force of good. A force so strong that Dante believed it made him a better man.
Mamma was the light of papa’s life.
And mamma was so blinded by the beauty of the rose that she failed to see the thorns.
Papa was never her Dante. He was only an illusion.
And she was never his Beatrice.
Mamma held a light that papa wanted to snuff out.
She believed it was the city of New York that had changed papa, for he was not the man she knew in Florence.
I wish I could tell mamma that The City of Death didn’t change papa, it allowed him to be his authentic self.
But I, too, was blinded, blinded by the rose until I was pricked by the thorns.
And now at the age of twenty-six the poison she had always tried to protect me from is flowing through my veins.
Over the months since my rebirth I have accepted the fact that I no longer hold the innocence that I once held so dear.
I do resent, however, that Luca and papa have made me disappoint my mamma.
I guess I can only be grateful that she’s not alive to see her little angel fall from the heavens and be dragged down by her wings to Hell.
Yet still, I can’t help but feel the deep ache that flares in my heart when I allow myself to think of her.
She was the light of my life, perhaps the only truest light I have ever known. Everyone else was fluorescent while mamma was the sun.
On the rare occasions where I drink myself into a splendor my mind opens Pandora’s box and asks the questions that haunt me. If mamma was still alive would I still have my innocence? Would I be someone completely different? Or has the poison of The City of Death been in me all along and mamma was my only antidote?
But it is best not to question such life altering matters.
This is who I am now.
“He hasn’t given us an answer yet, Luca,” I hear papa say in that soft tone that kills right outside of his office.
I come to a stop against my better judgement, and I keep myself hidden by outside of the door to further hear the conversation.
Luca sighs heavily. If I were there myself I would see he’s more than likely tapping his index finger against his chin. “It was just last night. Perhaps he needs more time.”
Papa scoffs but even that emotion isn’t harsh. “What more time does he need? I offered him Carina on a silver platter. He would be a fool not to take her. Was she not presentable?”
If I could feel anything at all I would feel sick by papa’s words, but I’ve learned too quickly to desensitize myself from emotion.
My rebirth hadn’t only drained the blood of my innocence, it snatched my humanity, too.
“You know, Carina,” he says flippantly. “She could have smiled more and there was tension when she was dancing with Constantine.”
None of that had to be relayed to papa but Luca wants him to know in the areas that I have failed.
With my failures the light in papa’s eyes diminish for me and shine more for him.
And I also haven’t forgotten Luca’s threat last night.
With my dancing on the line of disrespect, in a public space no less, I know his hand has been twitching to give me another lashing. Telling papa of my failures will give him a reason for me to receive one.
“ Mio dio, ” papa breathes thinly. “Did you stress to her the importance of this marriage?”
“Of course I did,” Luca responds stiffly.
“Then if you had then why hasn’t Constantine given me an answer?”
“Perhaps he wants a different woman. Maybe he didn’t find Carina to his standards.”
I roll my eyes so hard that it hurts my head.
That is the furthest thing from the truth.
Yes, there might have been tension on the dance floor between us but anyone with two eyes could tell that Constantine liked what he saw.
Even I have to admit that the Devil is quite handsome.
“I’m not asking him to be faithful, Luca. I’m asking him to marry her for the sake of a partnership between the two families.”
My marriage and the future that lies ahead of me at the hands of the Devil of the East Coast is nothing but a business transaction.
All for a partnership.
I’m surprised papa even wants to share the throne with Constantine.
There must be more, something papa is hiding from both Luca and I.
Papa is not a man who shares and neither is Constantine. It’s why the East Coast is his for the taking.
“I could talk to him,” Luca offers and papa dismisses him.
“No. That would be desperate, Luca. One thing The Fiore Famiglia is not is desperate.”
“Then what shall we do?”
“Unfortunately we must wait.”
“What about Carina?”
A pause. “What about her?” Papa asks in a bored tone.
“Shouldn’t she receive punishment?” Luca can’t hide the slight excitement in his voice. He’s the very definition of a sadist.
“Whatever you think is necessary, Luca. Perhaps she’ll realize the severity of this marriage once she faces the consequences.”
Of all the things I have just heard papa say, that has my stomach churning like thick butter.
A heavy feeling sits in my throat and I have to swallow to force it down.
After I received the five lashings Luca had given me I had vomited until I was dry heaving.
I still remember lying on the cold tiled floor of the cellar of the basement. It was such a contrast to the warmth that coated my back.
And I didn’t even have the strength to pick myself up off of the dirty floor.
I had stayed down there, unmoving, for hours, until our butler, Giuseppe, had found me.
He tended to me with a care I thought I would never feel again.
I never told a living soul how he nursed me back to health. How he would put the ointment on my wounds and dress them. Nor how he would make sure I ate even when I felt sick.
Giuseppe is the only person who cares about me but since he works for papa he can’t show his allegiance to me.
You are supposed to live, eat and breathe for The Don and if you don’t then you’re dead before the blink of an eye.
Hearing enough I softly leave before Luca comes out and spots me.
The bare of my feet hit the pristine cherry hardwood floors with a soft thud.
I’ve learned to never wear heels while parading around the house.
As I walk down the long corridor the churning in my stomach only intensifies.
I don’t want to return to the cellar.
I don’t want to count how many lashings my brother deems fit.
I could barely withstand five. I know without a doubt, thanks to my behavior last night, and the approval from papa, I’ll be lashed twice as much.
Consumed by the dread I hardly notice Giuseppe at the end of the corridor.
“Ms. Fiore,” he addresses me formally. And it doesn’t matter how many times I tell him otherwise, I’ll always be addressed properly.
Composing myself I curtly nod my head at Giuseppe with a dash of a smile. “Giuseppe, always a pleasure to see you.”
For an older gentleman he doesn’t look a day over fifty. His genes have blessed him with a fresh face and his rigorous regimen and diet keep him strong. His dark brown hair with slithers of grey peaking at the sides is slicked back with a gel but not as thick as Luca.
Dressed impeccably in a black tail suit and bow tie, Giuseppe appears to be the perfect poised butler.
“La mia forte bellezza,” he softly croons. My strong beauty. “Always the early riser.”
“It’s nice to feel the sun upon my skin,” I respond vaguely.
But Giuseppe is smart enough to read between the lines. Finding hints to lead him to the treasure. “Ah, but it is never enough to cleanse our souls.”
I smile weakly at him. I’ll never confess that I long to see the world the way I had seen it before. With all its beauty and splendor.
“Is that today’s newspaper?” I nod my head towards the newspaper pressed against his side.
“Yes, Ms. Fiore. Have you not seen it yet over breakfast?”
I shake my head. “Haven’t eaten yet. Has papa and Luca seen it?”
“No, they have been in meetings all morning.” Meetings. I refrain from rolling my eyes.
“May I ask why you are shielding the front page from me?”
The apple’s of Giuseppe’s cheeks flush. “I didn’t want you to feel embarrassed.”
I raise a brow. “Why would I feel embarrassed about the front page? You’re acting as if I’m on it.”
He swallows and then presses the newspaper closer to his frame.
My family has been in the media. This is true but my face has never once appeared. My papa to everyone else is a business mogul who is a millionaire. But the underworld, the criminals of the world know of my papa as The Don to The Fiore Famiglia. With how clean papa is with laundering money, keeping up pretenses and knowing those in high places he hasn’t yet been seen as anything different than the successful businessman.
Luca and Elio have always been in the spotlight. Their names and photos have always been in the paper. Luca was named as one of the East Coast’s Most Eligible Bachelors. Luca ate that up more than a patriot with an apple pie on the Fourth of July. As much as Luca is sadistic he is as much conceited. The Evil Queen does not compare to how much my brother admires himself in the mirror.
And Elio was named the young playboy too wild to tame. The media said that Elio had trouble swimming in his brown eyes and any woman would willingly commit a crime to have a chance at his heart. While yes, Elio did have trouble swimming in his eyes he also had world domination written underneath. Elio, unlike Luca, was blatant in his arrogance. He believed that the world was his for the taking and that if anyone stood in his way then they must want death.
Papa taught him that.
It was papa’s fault that Elio’s arrogance grew so magnificently big that he could hardly fit his head through any door he walked in.
And it was that same arrogance that led Elio to becoming a traitor.
“Hand over the newspaper, Giuseppe,” I demand softly, holding out my outstretched hand.
He sighs defeatedly and hands the newspaper over to me face down reluctantly.
Turning it over I finally see the front page.
My heart inside my chest starts beating at a hummingbird's pace.
Constantine Donati Enthralled By Mysterious Woman.
It seems as if The East Coast’s Infamous Constantine Donati has been captivated by a woman made of ice. But who is this Ice Queen? And why on Earth is she not melting under the scorching gaze of fire himself? We may just have the answer. The Ice Queen herself is none other than Carina Fiore, the daughter of business mogul Savio Fiore, and you heard that right, the younger sister to Luca Fiore. While her brothers Luca and the late Elio, who died senselessly to gun violence earlier this year, have always been in the spotlight, Carina has stayed shadowed in the background. But last night Carina took center stage with Constantine Donati as they shared a dance with each other. She looked less than thrilled. For the majority of the dance she didn’t even look in his eyes! By the time the dance was done Carina left without looking back but Constantine’s eyes had never left hers. It only begs the question, how could a woman made of ice capture the attention of the most charming man? Perhaps it’s a game of cat and mouse. Or maybe the age old saying of opposites attract is true. Whatever it is, it has Constantine in a trance. We can only hope that she doesn’t give him frostbite.
The gala in which Constantine Donati held last night raised over twenty million dollars for children’s cancer, a. . .
I stop reading the paper as my heart drops out of my chest and plummets to the pit of my stomach.
A heavy feeling sits in my throat causing me to feel highly nauseous.
I hand the newspaper back to Giuseppe with trembling fingers.
“La mia forte bellezza.” He sounds upset as he eyes me with concern. His emerald eyes that have flecks of gold look as if they want to reach out and pull me in a long embrace. “I wish I could protect you.”
I smile thinly, my eyes cracking with an emotion I haven’t felt in such a long time. But before it can get the best of me I push my hair behind my ears and stand tall. “No one can protect me except myself, Giuseppe.” And that is the cruelty of this dark world that I live in. No one is here to save you. There’s no such thing as white knights riding gallantly on their steeds.
“I’m assuming your papa did not receive an answer.”
“Your assumption is correct,” I tell him monotonously. “And this article on the front page is certainly not going to do me any favors.”
“But it says you captured his attention,” he argues and I shake my head.
“And it also says that I was less than thrilled to be in his presence.”
“Surely Don Fiore must know this is just media gossip.”
I laugh humorlessly. “Luca has already told papa of the tension between us two last night. This,” I wave my hand towards the newspaper, “only seals my fate.”
His face falls. “No,” he says the word in horror. “You barely were able to move after last time.”
“And I imagine this time will be worse. We both know how sadistic Luca is.”
“No,” he says again, heartbroken. “This can not be. We must do something.”
“You can help me like you did last time, Giuseppe,” I offer. “But if you make your concern known on my behalf then you’re dead. And that is something I will not allow to happen.”
“You shouldn’t have to experience this. Your mamma-”
“Is dead,” I say flatly. “And even if she was alive she couldn’t save me from papa or Luca’s wrath.”
“If only you knew how many times that she had,” he tells me somberly.
I ignore the flare in my heart and the disappointment rising within me. I don’t need to hear how many times mamma protected me. How she tried to save me from the poison flowing in my veins because I was born in The City of Death.
If she could see me now I would be her biggest disappointment.
Therefore I will not hear how she saved me from papa.
“I think I’ll be skipping breakfast today. Once papa and Luca see the front page my punishment will be most severe. I don’t feel like upchucking my food.”
“Dio mio, Carina. How can you speak so nonchalantly about this?”
By having my humanity ripped away from me.
By being reborn in the blood of my innocence.
By accepting the darkness and living with it.
I don’t say any of that to him, though. Giuseppe somehow still sees me as the person I was before. And at times, on the worst of my days I hate to admit that I like seeing the reflection of my old self in his eyes.
“That’s it,” he finally says and I raise a brow, “I will not show the paper to your papa or fratello. Not if you have to bear punishment.”
I lay a gentle hand on his shoulders and look him steady in the eyes. “You will show the paper to papa and Luca. You will not show any concern for me and you most certainly will not try and talk them out of this. I thank you, Giuseppe, for the thought, but we both know what will happen if you do. This is my life. I failed last night and I must suffer the consequences.”
“Luca will not be easy on you, Carina.”
I remove my hand from his shoulder once I see the white flags of surrender waving in his eyes. “Is he ever?”
“You’re stronger than him, Carina. That’s why Luca is so determined to break you.”
“You can’t break what is already broken.”
“You are not broken, la mia forte bellezza,” he says fervently. “You must not talk like this.”
Appeasing him to lessen his worry over me I nod my head with a smile. “Okay, I’ll try not to. But please do not say anything to papa or Luca.”
“I won’t, Carina. Even if I think this is wrong.”
“You’re a good person, Giuseppe.”
“So are you.”
My smile falters.
I was once good.
But I am not that person anymore.
“Once you see Luca leave the cellar, wait an hour to not raise suspicion before you make your way down to me.”
He nods his head but I can tell that he wants to say more. “I will pray for you, la mia forte bellezza. I will pray that Luca is not harsh with you, and I will pray that you carry your strength until I come to you.”
I smile at him but it’s one that holds nothing but sorrow.
I would hate to tell him that the God he is praying to I no longer believe in.
And if there is such a God he wouldn’t help me.
Not after the ultimate sin I’ve committed. Not after my wings have been severed from my back.
“Thank you, Giuseppe.” And with a nod of my head and a crisp bow from him we part ways.
Yet still I hang by the end of the corridor until I hear the thud of his footsteps in the great distance, and I wait until I hear him softly knock on papa’s door. And as I hear the three soft rapt knocks it’s not shortly after do I hear the opening of the door and the closing after.
But as I hear the door closing I hear my fate being sealed.
Tonight Luca will unleash his wrath upon me, and papa will encourage him to do so.
The scars upon my back burn as I remember my last lashing. The stench of iron fills my nostrils as the taste of metallic sits heavy upon my tongue. And as I close my eyes I am transported to the cold hard unforgiving floor of the cellar. My knees cut open from digging them in the floor, and my wrists blistered from the chains binding them too tight.
I open my eyes before I can see the river of blood pooling around me.
I take a deep breath and push back my shoulders.
Giuseppe is right about one thing, I am strong.
For every lash my brother will give me I will not shed a single tear.
He’ll want to hear my screams, he’ll want to see my eyes turn to glass and I won’t allow it.
I will take away what gives him the most pleasure.
But there is something in the back of my mind that forebodes the worst is only yet to come.