5. Constantine
CHAPTER 5
Constantine
“ T his isn’t wise, Constantine,” my consigliere, Rico, warns me with a tone that is emotionless.“Showing up at Don Fiore’s household without notice nor a meeting is a blatant sign of disrespect.”
As if I care about gaining the respect of Savio Fiore.
Every man bows before me.
I take a puff of my Cuban cigar, a gift from my business associate, Alvaro, who imports the purest cocaine known to man from Cuba to New York. The cocaine business has earned me enough money to never have to work for the rest of my life and the next. But I’m a greedy bastard. Not only do I want to own the East Coast with the purest drugs I also want to own it in every way possible. My fingers are dipped in multiple pies, each one beneficial to me. And if I ever should arise to a problem I have the finest Judge of New York right inside my pocket.
My papa used to tell me everyone can be bought for the right price.
It’s utterly pathetic of the human race to prove it true.
Money means power.
And I have an abundance of it.
I raise my brow coolly at Rico, who stands before me in a three piece pressed black suit and a stoic expression upon his face.
For as long as I have known Rico he’s never shown a semblance of emotion. I never thought much of it. Living in this world of ours everyone has their quirks.
Rico lives with what is known as alexithymia, the inability to identify and express or describe one’s emotions.
To put it simply, for those who are incompetent Rico has problems with feeling emotions, or rather feeling none at all.
Although I imagine that must put a damper on his personal life it makes him the perfect man for the position he has.
Rico is the only person who I confide with due to his lack of empathy and his blunt approach to the world. Whereas the rest of the world sees black, white and grey, Rico sees nothing. He bases everything off of fact and strategy.
Which is exactly why he is warning me of the etiquette between the meeting of Famiglia’s. Not particularly because he cares about Savio Fiore or Italian traditions but because it will cause a rift between us if I don’t.
I, however, could give a fuck less.
Savio Fiore, who has been waiting amongst the sidelines like the rest of the gangs and Famiglia’s for my demise means nothing more to me than the dirt underneath the soles of my custom made Versace shoes.
But The Fiore Famiglia is the only Famiglia who is worthy enough to even be considered a rival.
The only business they have where I don’t thrive is in arms trafficking. After the death of my papa, Savio wasted no time in trying to gain as much power as he possibly could. And with the little time that he possessed he managed to arrange a meeting with the arms trafficker that had dealt with us.
There is a deeper history, one I’m sure he has never dared breathe. And it’s because of our history that our famiglia ’s have always been enemies.
But there is a history that everyone of both Famiglia’s are aware of. The one we were told since we could understand what words meant. The one where it forged a hatred to reside in our black hearts for each other.
Savio Fiore was a man born in Sicily, Italy who has stuck to the traditions of Mafia Crime since its origins.
My famiglia, however, has gone against such traditions, as we are related to the one and only mobster who had gunned down the Sicilian Mafia Syndicate to create a new world of Mafia Crime.
It was a massacre.
A bloodbath of grand affair that would make even the most desensitized human being screw their eyes shut and scream with terror.
In the end it brought an end to the reign of the Sicilian Mafia. And with its end was the end of The Fiore Famiglia reign. They no longer sat upon the throne as kings, they became peasants like the rest of them.
This is why Savio offered me his precious daughter’s hand in marriage, because it’s his only way of ever coming close to reclaiming the throne.
If my papa were alive he would have declined the offer without second thought.
Any person with Fiore blood is a sworn enemy, and a truce would only be admitting defeat on the Donati name. The ultimate sin.
But there is a sin worse than admitting defeat.
A sin my papa would punish me for and make me pray for forgiveness until I was blue in the face.
After all, how many cities have fallen because a man was simply beguiled by a woman.
Or rather enraptured, as the media so lightly put it.
And I have no qualms of admitting it.
Carina Fiore may have been in the shadows to everyone else but I have always seen her.
I remember the first time I laid my eyes upon her.
She was young then, too young for a man of my age to take an interest in looking but she had this certain beauty that compelled you to.
It was her face, a face that God had crafted himself to resemble his angels. One that if you stared too long you would confess your sins in hopes to be in her good graces.
I don’t think I have ever seen anyone as beautiful.
It was when I saw her papa clutch her roughly in his arms that I knew I could never have her.
Not because I was afraid of who he was but it was because of his last name.
The damn Fiore blood.
And I knew my papa would never allow it to happen.
It was blasphemy.
For as much as I knew it was forbidden it didn’t stop me from thinking about her or seeking her any chance that I could.
There was an angel walking amongst earth and I was the Devil who wanted to walk with her.
The front page of The New York Newspaper says that I am enraptured by Carina Fiore but the truth is I have an unhealthy obsession.
Because even though her face resembled an angel I saw the darkness hiding in the depths of her eyes.
Only recently has the darkness swallowed her whole and because of that it has left those beautiful emerald eyes of hers dead.
But Carina hasn’t accepted the darkness, she’s succumbed to it. There’s a difference.
When you accept the darkness your eyes do not die, for they thrive in their new home. They dance with sin and shine with mischief.
The paper had called her a woman made of ice but they couldn’t be more wrong.
Carina is not ice. Not when her eyes flashed at mine with fury and not when her skin came alive under my touch.
She’s an ember waiting to catch a flame.
A match waiting for its strike.
Carina Fiore is a woman who believes she died.
I’m going to be the one who brings her back to life.
And when I do I know the fire that she’ll become, the darkness that she will finally accept, will be the most glorious thing to behold.
I want her to be the Queen to my King and the only way to make that happen is for her to become what she’s resisting.
It will happen soon enough and when it does the day God called ruination will be upon us.
“I’m not a traditionalist, Rico, and when I marry his daughter he will have to come to terms with that.”
He inclines his head and mimics my expression by raising a brow. “So you are accepting his offer.”
“Yes, I am.” But I’m not accepting for what I’m sure Savio Fiore has up his sleeve. I’m accepting for the woman who needs to be saved from herself.
Rico gives a curt nod of his head. I raise a brow. “Do you have anything to say on the matter?”
“If I did, would you listen given the fact of who she is to you?” He asks dryly.
“No.”
“Therefore I have no say upon the matter.”
“And if she wasn’t,” I argue for the sake of wanting to hear his opinion, “what would your opinion be?”
“Hypothetically?”
“Yes, hypothetically.”
“I would highly advise against it,” he tells me bluntly.
“Because?”
“Because I believe her father is going to use her as a Trojan Horse.”
And while yes, that ridiculous idea has crossed my mind because I put nothing past the cunning and ruthless Savio, I hardly believe she would be able to retrieve any information.
How can she be a Trojan Horse if my men and I are aware of her or her papa’s intentions?
The thought does bring a smile to my face. It humors me that Savio believes I could fall for that trap so easily. As if I’m a dense man.
A dense man does not sit upon the throne and rule the underworld. And he’s best to remember that.
And although I put nothing past Savio his dear daughter is an enigma. I may see the darkness in her eyes that she tries to deny but her mind is a mystery. I saw the loathing in her eyes when she first looked at me. There’s a hatred that burns in her veins, and I don’t know why she holds that towards me. But is it enough for her to betray me? Surely her hatred couldn’t make her that blind. “You think she would be brave enough to betray me in my own home?”
“I think a woman who has nothing to lose is as dangerous as they come.”
“That means she must not value her life.”
“I said she has nothing to lose, Constantine, not that she doesn’t value her own life.”
And this is why I must have her. To uncover all the layers of complexity that is the one and only Carina Fiore.
I take one last puff of the strong rich flavored cigar. “Rico?”
He inclines his head. “Si, Constantine?”
“Tell Pietro to pull the car around. I’m going to make a visit to Savio Fiore.”
He nods his head. “Si, Constantine.”