6. Constantine
CHAPTER 6
Constantine
S avio Fiore’s luxurious home resides in the upper east side of Manhattan, New York. Close enough to keep his eyes on the city he believes that is his but far enough to not reek of his criminal nature.
You see, Savio is a man who is all smoke and mirrors. An illusion, if you will.
But you see, I’ve always had a problem with illusionists. The dramatic effect of smoke and mirrors is all for show. A poor mans act meant for entertainment.
And I am not a man who cares to deal with such entertainment nor do I care about entertaining.
The reason why I am so feared is because everyone knows what to expect. And what they expect is a bloodthirsty monster who is relentless in his efforts to get what is his for the taking. And who am I to give them anything different?
I’ve heard my name whispered amongst the streets between lowly criminals, and I have even heard it feared from rival gangs, cartels and famiglias.
It’s as if I have formed myself into the very own Grim Reaper, claiming every soul I deem worthy enough to take.
And god, I have taken many.
The blood on my hands has never once stained my soul. You can’t stain what has been tainted since birth.
The car comes to a stop outside of Savio’s Grand Mansion off of Fifth Avenue. One worth a pretty price of thirty-eight million dollars.
One of my trusted soldiers, Pietro, opens the door for me before surveying the area. I step out onto the street and as I do I button up my suit jacket. My eyes scan the area subtly and before my presence causes too much of a commotion with the civilians I make my way to his front door.
God, even his front door is tacky. My eyes burn from having to look at it. A gold metallic with stained glass and intricate designs of leaves and vines woven throughout.
Saving myself from having to look at this door for a second longer I tilt back my head and stare directly at the camera blinking red.
Good, he knows I’m here.
Now let me the fuck in.
I raise a brow at the camera and Pietro behind me smothers back a chuckle.
Pietro always seems to find amusement even in the most mundane things. It makes him astronomically different from Rico. Them two having to work together is comedic gold.
The light in the camera blinks green and the atrocious door opens automatically.
Pietro steps inside first and nods his head at me to move in behind him.
As soon as I cross the threshold the door behind us automatically shuts and locks itself.
And if I thought the decor of the door was obnoxiously loud and unflattering the inside decor is shockingly worse.
It’s as if the man asked the interior designer if everything came in gold. I almost wonder if he’s surrounding himself with gold because he’s compensating for something else.
My papa had always told me it’s the loudest and most arrogant men who are compensating for their small egos and even smaller dicks.
And if my papa’s saying is true then Savio has the most fragile ego and the world’s most minuscule dick.
Pietro snickers beside me, “Think he likes a golden shower, too?” My lips twitch but I remain silent. However, Pietro takes my silence to crack another snide comment, “Just how fucking small is this guys dick?”
I’m about to reply how I am thinking the same when we hear the heavier thud of a man’s footsteps coming from the main area of the home.
It comes to no surprise when we see Luca Fiore stride towards us.
Luca Fiore.
I hold back the sneer that wants to break free on my lips as disgust mixes with a deep loathing flowing through my veins.
He walks as if he is God’s greatest creation with an arrogance that actually makes him believe he is so.
But my eyes examine him like he’s my very own test subject. Scrutinizing him to find any small detail left out of place.
Luca Fiore is a man who is perfection personified.
Not one hair will be out of place. Every article of clothing is pressed clean and wrinkle free. His face is also shaved to where even a five o’clock shadow will not appear.
And yet here he is, his slicked back hair slightly out of place and glazed with perspiration. A red stain that is reminiscent of blood splatter on the lower part of his white dress shirt.
His sharp blue eyes meet mine but there is apprehension there.
He may think he is God’s greatest creation but that means nothing to a Devil like me.
He stops just short of us, smart enough to leave space in case an altercation is to arise. He nods his head. “Constantine, surely you know this unscheduled visit is audacious of you.”
Luca is an Underboss and his tone, bold with authority proves that to be true. But I am not one of his soldiers nor one of his Capo’s.
I am fucking Constantine Donati and everyone bows before me.
“And if I am not mistaken I distinctly remember you having to address me as, Signore. Am I right?” I ask coolly.
Luca swallows and adjusts the undone cuff links on his shirt. Ah, another detail that isn’t of his character.
His jaw ticks as he nods his head. “Signore,” he begins after he has been corrected through terse lips, “may I ask why the visit at this ungodly hour?”
Pietro snorts, “Just the hour is ungodly?”
Luca’s eyes flash with annoyance. Before he lets it get the best of him he ignores Pietro’s existence and sharpens his gaze on me.
I hold my hand up to Pietro, a silent command for him to keep his mouth shut for now. Although it amuses me that Luca can be so easily disturbed now isn’t the time.
“I came to speak with your papa about Carina.” And that’s the only piece of information this fucker is getting out of me. I don’t have to explain myself to him, someone so below me that they aren’t even visible from how high I am.
“You mean Don Fiore,” he corrects me but I made no mistake.
I smile charmingly as I puff out a chuckle. “To you.”
“About Carina?” He questions with slight trepidation. Odd. Considering his behavior with her last night I expected perhaps a bored tone or one of annoyance.
I nod my head. “And I would like to discuss it now since I have come to a decision.”
He arches a brow. “You have?”
“Yes or I wouldn’t be here, now would I?”
“No, I suppose not,” he agrees flatly.
“Then are you going to stand here like a belligerent idiot or take me to Savio?” I insult him in the same way I do everyone, with a saccharine grin.
His jaw ticks as his face flushes. A sweaty lock falls across his forehead and he stiffly puts it back in place. As he does I see the stains of blood on his wrist. I narrow my eyes at the sight, and once he notices what I’m staring at he puts his hand down swiftly.
What are you trying to hide?
“Have I interrupted your night?” I nod towards the blood stain on his shirt that he can’t hide.
“Oh, that,” he says nonchalantly with a shake of his head. Then with a smile a tad too wide to be considered genuine he replies, “You know how work is.”
“Yes, I do,” I agree but I still carry my suspicions like a detective in an old time noir film.
His smile eases, appearing to be relieved. “If you follow me I’ll have you wait in the grand formal room while I tell Don Fiore of your request.”
“It’s not a request, Luca,” I tell him firmly. “I will see him tonight or my decision will easily change.” Luca grits down on his teeth but nods curtly.
He then leads us through their home and I’m bombarded by even more tacky and gotti interior furnishing and design.
For fuck sake.
I may go blind before I see the cunning bastard.
Opting not to sit on the stiff and uncomfortable looking couch I remain standing by the fireplace.
On the mantle there are pictures of his family. One of him and his late wife, Viola, who Carina is an astonishing copy of. The only difference is in the eyes. Her mother’s a sweet honey brown that shines light even in the photograph she’s in.
Carina, however, has emerald jewels that drown in darkness.
Then there’s a portrait of the family as a whole placed center above the fireplace. A painting like Kings would have. In it Savio sits upon a gold throne with diamond pin cushions and burgundy plush. His left arm lays on the arm of the throne as his wife stands proudly beside him with her hand over his, but not covering his wedding band. Luca stands on the opposite side of his papa, his sharp blue eyes cutting through the portrait. The late Elio, the youngest of the family, stands in front of Luca. The painting captures the wildness in his eyes that he’s always possessed. And then finally there’s Carina who is standing in front of her mamma. Her mamma’s right hand rests upon her shoulder, but it looks as if her fingers are digging into her skin.
They appear as if they are the perfect family.
But that’s the smoke and mirrors, isn’t it?
The act Savio and his family performed to fool the audience.
I was never a fool.
I saw the cracks he tried desperately to conceal.
I know that Carina was the one who had slain Elio, not a criminal on the street. I know the darkness that surrounds this family like the plague.
And the biggest secret I know is how Viola wanted to escape with her daughter. Right before she got the chance she was killed.
Her death was to be made to appear as suicide. Another one of Savio’s tricks. Another illusion for the audience to believe, and sadly his own daughter. I’m sure Elio knew the truth. And I know with absolute certainty that Luca does too.
The only one left in the shadows, like she has been in all of her existence, is Carina.
The truth will see the light of day. It’s only a matter of time.
“Who do you think Luca was torturing?” Pietro asks. I turn to find him sitting on the arm of the rich brown leather sofa with gold trim.
My mind drifts back to the dance I had with Carina last night. How my fingers languidly trailed the scars upon her back. And I saw how fear overtook her eyes like a wave swallowing a ship at sea. Although I had no idea at the time who she was looking at to cause such a visceral reaction I have my suspects.
And as of tonight Luca has become number one.
However, I don’t raise my suspicions to Pietro.
Somewhere inside this black heart of mine that only bleeds, beats and aches for her hopes for it not to be true.
But who else could have done such a thing to her and live?
And why would her Famiglia want her scars on display?
I’m about to reply to Pietro when Savio Fiore waltzes in the grand family room.
Dio mio, if I had thought Luca walked as if he was God’s greatest creation Savio puts him to absolute shame.
There’s this air that he carries, as if he’s the most intelligent man in the room. He walks with sophistication and a swagger that holds too much arrogance. With one look upon him you can easily tell that the man thinks the world of himself and sees everyone beneath him.
His dark brown hair that borders on the line of black is styled and polished, with an errant curl laying on his forehead. Eyes that are as cold and dark as the night zero in on mine.
Unlike most monsters, or what people believe are monsters, Savio isn’t hideous.
He keeps himself in physical shape with a muscular upper body and a narrow waist. For a man in his mid sixties he could easily be mistaken for a man in his late forties. One thing God has blessed the Fiore gene with is appearances.
Even in his own home he dresses dapper. A pressed navy blue suit with a black tie. Unlike Luca, Savio has managed to keep his appearance to perfection. Not one hair out of place and no stain on his shirt.
I would imagine if they were torturing someone of importance or a traitor, Savio would have been there to either gain information or partake in the man’s misery.
But I stack that clue away amongst many others I have gained tonight in the back of my mind.
“Constantine, when my son said you were here I did not believe him,” he says with an Italian accent heavier than mine. Everything about Savio reeks of old time Sicily. And his mannerisms along with his beliefs in the mafia are based on old Sicily tradition.
“And here I am. It’s been a long time hasn’t it, Savio?”
Luca, who stands besides him clears his throat, but Savio holds his hand up in dismissal. I smirk at Luca and he grits his teeth.
After all, the fucker should be happy enough I am not addressing him as the bastard he is.
“Si,” he easily agrees. “I am sorry I couldn’t make it to the gala last night. Business,” he explains as his excuse. In truth the only business he had last night was offering his only daughter on a silver platter to me.
“Speaking of business I have come to a decision.”
He perks up. “You have?”
I nod my head. “But I do have conditions.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t expect any less,” he pauses, glancing between Pietro and I, “Shall we discuss this in my office? Luca will join us.”
Pietro who still sits upon the arm of the sofa scoffs. His actions show a sign of disrespect to Savio and I have no intention of correcting him.
I raise my brow coolly. “If Luca is joining us then I see no problem with Pietro doing the same.”
Savio clears his throat. “Luca is of higher rank than a mere soldier, Constantine.”
“And this mere soldier keeps me alive. I trust him more than I trust the both of you, which is why he will join us in this meeting. If there is a problem with that then I will leave and the business between us will be lost,” I say firmly.
Savio takes it in stride but I can see by the tension in his shoulders that I have ruffled his feathers. He’s a Don, he’s not used to being dictated.
He nods his head stiffly as a strained smile adorns his face. “Si, if you’ll follow me we will go over your conditions and come to an agreement.”
At that I stop him right there. “If my conditions aren’t met, Savio, I will not agree to marry Carina. Capisce?”
He agrees through terse lips, “Capisce.”
Signaling Pietro to follow behind me I nod my head. We then follow Savio and Luca throughout their home to his office.
His home feels more of a museum. All with the paintings and sculptures imported from Italy and the gold trims and finishings. There’s nothing here that signifies a touch of their personalities. It screams luxury and wealth. Power. All of which Savio has so little of.
Savio enters his office first followed by his son and then me. Pietro stands by the closed door with his hand cautiously on his gun strapped to his waist.
Luca raises his brow at me and I level him with a lethal stare. He doesn’t say anything as he stands by his papa who is seated behind his desk.
Savio folds his hands and places them on the desk. “So, what are your conditions?”
Great, straight to business.
I actually appreciate the cutting of pleasantries.
I take a seat, but before I do I unbutton my suit jacket. I lean back causally with my ankle propped against my opposite leg.
Luca sneers at the sight of blatant disrespect, I however revel in it.
“As you know the media loves me,” I begin.
However I’m rudely interrupted with a snide comment under Luca’s breath. “Or hates you.”
Savio holds his hand up and Luca stands there simmering. Pietro snorts.
“As you were saying,” Savio says for me to continue.
“The media would have known if I had a fiancé. I would’ve announced it. And thanks to the paper today no one will believe that Carina and I were ever a couple to begin with.”
Savio nods his head but my eyes cut to Luca. He wears a secret grin upon his face that doesn’t sit right with me. It’s as if the man enjoys the failures of his sister.
“Si,” Savio agrees. “I told my daughter the severity of the situation but she did not listen. I am deeply sorry for her behavior.”
“It was the media who spread lies, Savio. She did nothing wrong. I enjoyed our dance. Even wanted another.” I come to her defense and Luca stiffens. Savio settles back in his seat and looks at me with doubtful brown eyes.
“Really?” He questions stunned.
“Don’t tell me you believe everything you read, Savio. I never pegged you for a man to be that dense.” I know how Savio feels of the word, and I know what he does to those he thinks that are. He would never tolerate a dense man.
His cheeks flame, and it resembles very much of his son. He then clears his throat. “I was told otherwise.”
I raise a brow. “By who?”
“An inside man of my own,” he responds tightly.
I want to roll my eyes but I don’t. I can guarantee the only inside man Savio had that night was his own god damn fucking son. He provided him with false intel.
“Well, whoever this inside man is,” I begin breezily before setting my hard eyes on Luca, “he was entirely wrong.”
Luca’s jaw twitches as his eyes pierce mine like the knives they are.
Savio claps his hands and feigns a broad smile on his face. “This is good news, no? You’re happy with my daughter. She knows of the arrangement, and will make a wonderful wife.”
I run my thumb along my scruffy jaw and consider what he’s saying. Such a fucking traditionalist mobster. Believing that women are only meant in this life to be perfect wives.
God, I want to scoff at how ridiculous his beliefs are, and then laugh at how out of touch with the times he’s in.
Women are not pawns on the chess board.
They’re fucking queens.
And you do everything to protect the queen.
Not wanting to argue, I agree with him. “I have no doubts that she will.” In full transparency, the type of wife Savio is suggesting, Carina would be terrible at. She’s not a docile woman. She has an attitude and she fears no man. She isn’t some mere kitten found off the streets who wants to be loved and have a home. Carina is a fucking wild lioness who can not be tamed.
I have no intentions of taming her.
I want to set her free.
Free from the gilded cage her papa and brother have placed her in, and free from the cage she has shackled herself to.
“Then what are your conditions, Constantine?”
“I want Carina to live with me immediately.”
He balks as I knew he would. This goes against every one of his precious traditions and ridiculous morals. “That is out of the question,” he fumes. “No daughter of mine will live with a man who she is not married to.”
I chuckle darkly. “And yet you’ll force a marriage upon her to a man she doesn’t even know.”
He simmers in his chair. His jaw clenched as he says, “It’s different. She knows her part in this world, Constantine. As do all of the women in our sector of The Famiglia. It has been that way for over a century.”
And that’s precisely why his Famiglia is dying instead of thriving. Stuck to old traditions and even older fucked up morals.
His late son, Elio, although crazed and a tad bit mad, saw that. It’s why he turned on his papa. It’s why he became a traitor to his Famiglia. He wanted a new one. One where he wasn’t tied to his papa’s rules and code. But his arrogance led to him being caught before he could even begin.
Yet his death brought a silver lining for me.
It has finally brought Carina to me.
I’ll remember to thank him the next time I’m at prayer during Mass.
Heavenly Father, thank you for blessing the youngest Fiore with an arrogance that led him to believe he could be the ruination of his papa. And because of this arrogance you gifted him it finally led his sister to me, where she rightfully belongs. A-fucking-men.
“That may be how you rule things, Savio,” I begin with humor in my tone, “but that is not how I rule.”
Savio loosens the tie around his neck and looks up at his son as if to say, who does this fucker think he is.
He would be a smart man to never say that to my face nor within ear range.
If I wasn’t disrespecting him so blatantly and consistently tonight I would have his eyes plucked from their sockets for showing disrespect to me.
But even I know how to choose my battles and this is a battle not worth fighting.
For Carina, though?
For Carina I’ll fight with my best men and lead on my stead with a sword and shield ready.
“If my condition is not met, Savio, I will not marry your daughter. Therefore our partnership will forever cease to exist,” I tell him calmly but my tone is grave.
He thinks he has the winning bargaining chip with Carina, and although that is true he doesn’t know my obsession about her. No one does except for three of my most trusted men, Rico, Pietro and Gino.
But because of this bargaining chip he has he thinks he has power.
No one has power over me except for her.
And by his swallow followed by the fisting of his hand on top of his desk he knows this as well.
You think people would learn to understand that you simply can’t win against the Devil.
“Don Fiore,” Luca says warily, as he should.
I sit back relaxed waiting for his decision even though it’s predictable.
Savio sighs, white flags of surrender waving in his eyes, “Si. This condition can be met.”
I grin like the cat who ate the canary.
“Excellente.” I sound rejoiced. Praise Jesus, hallelujah.
Who knew the Devil could be a devoted fan to God himself?
Luca clears his throat. “If that is all-”
I hold up my hand to silence him and he begrudgingly follows my command. “She will be leaving with me tonight.”
“Tonight?” Savio cries in horror. He then looks at me as if I have gone mad. I can assure you, I most certainly have not. “No, this can not be, Constantine. Dio mio, have you no shame? No respect?”
I raise my brow as I stare at him coolly and my voice is as cool as a fall breeze, “Shame is not in my vocabulary. As for respect, respect is for those who have earned it. And have you earned it, Savio?”
He’s silently fuming. The man known for his composure is tearing apart at the seams before me. It makes me a cruel sadistic man to take pleasure in it but I carry no shame.
“You come in my home unannounced,” he begins in a quiet voice that is laced with fury, “disrespect my traditions, order me around like one of your soldiers, and not only do I concede to your condition but you have to twist my arm and ask for more?”
I place my head in my hand, my thumb running along my jaw as I pretend to consider what he’s saying. After a moment I glance back at Pietro with a brow raised and he suppresses a grin. I then shrug at both Savio and Luca. “Si, that’s correct.”
While I’m expecting to receive another outcry from Savio it’s his son who demands in a temper that’s not as controlled as his papa, “You will respect my papa as he is Don Fiore, The Don of-”
“And I am The Devil of the East Coast,” I silence him. “To think that either of you come close to the amount of power I have is ludicrous. For you to believe it makes you both insane.” I level Luca with a cutting stare, and his eyes are daggers at mine. I then rise from the chair and Pietro moves closer behind me the same time Savio backs away from me and Luca takes a menacing step forward. I lean on the desk and stare Savio straight in the eyes. “You are Don Fiore, si, but you are not my Don. You came to me with an offer, not the other way around. You should just be happy that I have accepted it. You should be kissing your daughter’s feet and worshipping the ground she walks upon, because if not for her, Savio, there would be no business between us. Capisce?”
“And if we wouldn’t have made the offer it would’ve been another Don with his daughter offering the same,” Savio says stiffly. And dio mio, I have to give it to him, he has the balls of an elephant. “Carina isn’t special, Constantine. She’s doing her part for The Fiore Famiglia. As are many other women who do the very same.”
If I could throttle the man I would. Worse, if I could take my pocket knife that rests on the inside of my suit jacket and slice his throat to create a beautiful ribbon, I would.
For him to think so lowly of his daughter. To see her as only a tool to work in his favor. To make her believe that she is nothing more than a business transaction.
Dio mio, it makes my blood boil and my hands twitch with the need to paint this atrocity of a house red.
However, I wear the perfect poker face. I keep my cards close to the chest so that no one can see them. My emotions, however murderous and vicious they might be, stay concealed.
With a voice that is colder than ice I say, “And shall I hear these other offers? Do you think their offer, their daughter, will be of more worth than yours? If she’s not special then maybe I shall leave and see who else comes wanting to make a deal with the Devil.”
Savio’s eyes widen with alarm and I can see that in that puny brain of his he is regretting every word that he just said. “No,” he responds tightly, so tight that it sounds as if someone is choking him.
I raise a brow but repeat in a humored tone, “No?”
He swallows thickly. “No, Carina is much more suitable, much more presentable than any other woman who might be offered to you.”
His reasoning leaves a bitter taste in my mouth but it’s one I must become accustomed to, for now.
One day he’ll be choking on his own blood by saying those words.
But not tonight.
“Then what is the problem with her leaving with me tonight?” I ask tiredly. Talking to this man is exhausting and frankly I want to clean myself of the stench that reeks from his pores. No matter how presentable and suave Savio Fiore is he has a stench that soils his blood that will never come clean.
“She isn’t here, Signore,” Luca answers for his dear papa.
Odd.
Very odd considering I’ve had eyes on Carina from the moment I saw her across the street.
As I have said, my obsession with her may be considered a hair bit unhealthy but it’s the only thing that has kept me relatively sane. If one can believe it or not.
“I would advise not to lie to Constantine,” Pietro warns Luca in a steel tone.
Luca’s eyes flicker to him with the returning flash of annoyance before he settles them on me. The annoyance is gone as well as every other emotion. His eyes are a blank canvas. Luca’s eyes are never a blank canvas.
The only one in this Famiglia who has truly mastered that art is Carina.
The only time I have seen those eyes of hers rise from the dead was when I had her in my arms.
I intend to keep them that way.
Eyes as beautiful as hers should never suffer that fate.
“Fine,” Luca relents and I can practically feel the satisfaction emitting from Pietro. “She’s feeling terribly unwell and is resting in her bedroom. She forbade us from disturbing her.”
My lips twitch. “Is that so?”
“Very much so,” he affirms woodenly.
My suspicions are still raised. “So,” I begin in a conspiring voice, “if I were to walk myself upstairs and find myself in her room would she be there?”
“Of course,” Savio answers in a lighter tone. “We respect her privacy because she does not want others to see her in a vulnerable position.”
I would believe that, I would because that sounds eerily like the Carina I’ve come to study, but I don’t believe Savio nor his son.
“Carina is strong headed, then?”
“She has the Fiore blood,” Savio sounds proud of that. In fact, it’s the only thing he has sounded proud of when speaking about her tonight. “Fiore’s have strength flowing through their veins.”
“And stubbornness.”
“Ah, Si,” Savio laughs and it’s the only genuineness I have received from him tonight. Mirth dances in his eyes along with mischief. “But don’t all of us Italians suffer from that attribute?”
“To an extent-Si,” I agree with him.
“Then you must forgive Carina for her stubbornness tonight,” he says on her behalf. I doubt Carina would like him or Luca speaking for her. “Surely you can collect her later this week when she is feeling better?” He suggests lightly.
Again, I jot it down on my brain like an old detective in a noir film on how he talks about his only daughter.
Collect her.
As if she is a thing, a possession.
As if she isn’t flesh and bone with blood running through her veins.
My thoughts have never turned as violent as they do having to converse with him and his son.
And that is saying far too much considering I’m a violent man.
“Is this a condition you want, then?” I ask calmly. “And if this condition is met,” I begin hypothetically and both him and his son perk up, “then it is the only condition I will allow.”
Luca speaks before his papa and his tone chipper, “I believe we can manage with that.”
I laugh darkly. “I don’t give a fuck if you can manage it or not. Choose wisely, Savio, this is the only condition I’m allowing you to have. Are you sure you want to use it?”
He turns to look at his son and they exchange a quick conversation without saying a word. He then lets his gaze fall upon me and he nods his head. “This is my one condition.”
I reach out my hand and wait for Savio to take it. Once he does I grip it harshly in mine. I can hear his bones crushing but he doesn’t utter a sound nor grimace.
Releasing his hand he flexes it upon his desk but does not cradle it like weaker men.
This. . .this is the man my papa warned me about before he passed away.
‘Remember, Constantine, you must watch out for those who are prideful. Pride mixed with greed is the deadliest combination of the seven sins. They think they can cause your empire to fall. But have no fear my son, let them believe that they can. Feed their ego, stroke it because that will be their downfall. Their own pride and greed.’
With a devilish smirk upon my face and an evil dark glint in my eyes I tell Savio, “You just shook hands with the devil. Do your best to remember that.”