Chapter 6 Francesca
Francesca
Screams ring out as armed men race into the reception, and the world turns upside down. Carlo has thrown me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "What's happening?!" I screech, trying to lift my head.
"Bratva. Stop moving, goddammit." Blood rushes to my face, and I can't say if it's because of my position or the fact Carlo's hand is on my ass.
My topsy-turvy view bounces erratically as he runs before I'm suddenly upright again and being shoved under a table.
"Stay put or I really will spank you later, Francesca,” he barks, pulling his gun and then storming toward the danger.
One of the politicians Uncle Enzo is always schmoozing cowers under the table beside me in a puddle of his own making.
I can’t blame him, but I take pride in how fearlessly our men fight back.
And Carlo… God, he’s magnificent, shouting out orders while picking off men holding high-powered automatic weapons with only his handgun.
Considering the imbalance of firepower, we might be screwed, but Carlo’s fearsome glare never gives me a moment’s doubt that the Trio men will prevail.
Just as I’m resigned to hiding until our fates are decided, I see Valdo darting from one feeble bit of cover to another with a small knife in his hand. Instead of retreating from the worst of the fighting, he appears to be heading toward it. What the hell does he think he’s doing? He’s nine.
“Valdo, come here!” I shout.
With his dark blond hair clinging to his sweaty brow, the boy gives me a dismissive shake of his head and grips his knife tighter.
Fear nearly chokes me, but something terrible happening to my little cousin is unthinkable. I glance back at Carlo once more before crawling out from under my refuge and rushing toward the child.
***
The Bratva attack on the reception dominates conversation the following night when Gia, Caterina and I gather in Sofia's bedroom. Nico Morelli’s wife was killed during the shootout, along with a dozen others, a tragic day that will haunt the Trio for years to come, but the doctors safely delivered Margareta's twins via caesarean at least. And every Russian who thought to take on the Trio when the Three-Headed Wolf’s Capos and their heirs were all under one roof lost their life instead.
I’m sure that’s just the beginning of the vengeance our men will seek.
“Carlo was so brave,” Sofia gushes. He was, and I can't blame her for clinging to him like a barnacle once the fighting was done as he checked on me and Valdo.
“It was gallant of him to dance with you before the trouble started, too, Frankie,” Sofia adds.
“I know how unkind Piera can be, but he doesn't care what others think.”
Gia cringes as we exchange a private look. Sofia means well, but she doesn’t always realize how she comes across. She’s been admired and protected all her life. It’s easy to take some things for granted.
“Your singing was so beautiful yesterday, Frankie. You’re going to stun them at your audition next month,” Cat says to smooth things over.
I nod and smile, but my mind keeps returning to Carlo. He confuses me, makes me question things I shouldn't. Thank God, I won't have to see much more of him after his and Sofia’s wedding.
If you move to New York, do you really believe you can escape the Trio there?
Deep down, I know better. Juilliard is a dream I’ve been pushing myself toward for over a year now but, lately, it feels more like a puff of smoke ready to disappear the second I get too close.
Even after the adrenaline bled off last night, it was hard to sleep.
I suppose I can be grateful I wasn’t in Cat’s shoes.
Having sex for the first time with a man who pulls out teeth and gouges out eyeballs for the fun of it to top off the decade’s most traumatic wedding day sounds like total nightmare fuel to me.
“Last night was okay but, uh… something happened this morning I’d rather forget forever,” she says, failing utterly at hiding her blush.
With enough prodding, we get her to spill, and the room is full of laughter over her period’s inconvenient timing. I realize once more how much I love these girls. Leaving them would be very hard.
“It’s selfish of me, but I wish we could all stay together here like this for longer,” Cat sighs, voicing my thoughts.
“I’d gladly stay if Uncle Silvio would allow it. I hate being at Uncle Enzo’s with Rocco lurking around.” Someday, I fear Rocco will find the courage to cross a line, and I’ll be the one that suffers for it.
The four of us make the best of our time chatting companionably until my Aunt Bibi comes in to spoil the fun.
Shooing us off so Sofia can get her beauty rest, she manages to upset Gia.
It’s not like Carlo is going to call off the engagement over puffy eyes or a bad hair day.
Only death ends a marriage in the Trio and marriage pacts are practically held to the same standard.
They are bound by oath and honor to wed now.
Only a fool would attempt to come between them.
Tonight, due to the security debacle at the wedding – which was Rocco’s fault, naturally – the Seconda Notte is being held here at the mansion, a break from tradition and an awkward one.
The men will meet to talk business in the large guest house past the pool, but afterwards, girls from Club Oasis will be available to amuse them.
Will Alessio really fuck some random woman with his bride on the same piece of property?
God, I hope he’s got more sense than that.
Heading down to my bedroom alone, I reflect on the men in my life and my powerlessness yet again. “Fucking pigs.”
“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”
Startled, I whirl around to face whoever spoke, balling up my fists. Naturally, it’s him.