38
SERAFINA
I used to love parties, celebrations for all occasions. The grandeur of the venues, the decorations and themes. I used to enjoy putting on the most expensive dress my father would buy, feeling like a princess all the while knowing I would be a queen to others. Family gatherings, birthday parties, weddings, they were all part and parcel of my position. When I was younger, my father would flaunt me around, show me off to his friends and the other families, doting on how well I was doing in school.
My mother used to say it was because he was proud of me—at how beautiful I had become and how smart I was. But I knew my father always had ulterior motives. You never get where you are without turning a few heads.
Even after her passing when I was sixteen, my father and I still attended gatherings as a duo. But the older I got, the more I realized those gatherings were for my father’s cause. It was an effort to prove that his heir would be more than capable of taking his seat. And while most fathers in his position would be selling off their daughters in exchange for family allegiances, I’m starting to believe his intentions were more sinister .
I still don’t understand why my father forced me to come here tonight. Since the news broke of the trafficking ring and our family’s alleged involvement, it’s probably the worst timing possible. All eyes are on us, and while so many families turned up, there are still a number of them missing. Of course, the allegations of us being involved with trafficking are not true at all. La Cosa Nostra has nothing to do with the flesh trade. But that only makes the situation worse, making me look like I’m using my power to fuck over the rest of the families.
Tonight is all about one thing, now; proving there is no truth to the speculation.
“ Dolcezza ,” Luca purrs behind me over the cascading symphony orchestra at the front of the hall. His nickname for me has my heart pumping quicker. Maybe it’s because I know how hard it is for Luca to open up and let his walls down, but the sincerity of it is all the same. He wraps his arms around my waist, his hot breath skating over my neck. “Want to dance?”
I spin around, my beige Dolce and Gabbana tulle dress scraping the floor. I slide my arms around his neck and smile. Levi is somewhere at this party, schmoozing with another family. He’s always been good at socializing, his easy-going charm being the key to his success. And though I’m not complaining, I’m a little put out that the only company I’ve had for the last half an hour is my silent bodyguard.
Something happened to Giovanni last week. He seems different, like someone or something triggered the change. He’s distant, but close enough that his proximity still reminds me I’m safe. He’s stoic, yet underneath the surface, I can tell there is something dark festering away. He’ll never tell me, but if he does, I’ll be sure to listen- because holding your tongue for so long surely can’t be good for anyone.
“It’s about time one of you asked,” I tease Luca.
Without another word, he guides me onto the dance floor. The song changes to a smooth jazz—because god forbid they actually play something decent.
Luca spins me, catching me back in his arms. His chest presses against mine, and it gives me the chance to truly admire the suit molded to his physique. The obsidian color seems to bring out the vibrant blue of his eyes, the piece clinging to his body and making every aspect of his already gorgeous body a masterpiece.
“Raf confirmed the second location today,” Luca says quietly to me as we sway gently. “Marco is planning our next move as we speak.”
After the news last week about the traffic ring and the docks, we all agreed to lie low. And when I say ‘lie low’, that mostly involved spending a lot of time with Luca and Levi, conjuring up ways to fill the time.
My father knew I had nothing to do with it, but the rumors swirling only made him question my ability to lead La Cosa Nostra. He’s currently down at the bar, sweet talking one of the lower families. Since he has no real standing here anymore, he’s just using the opportunity to get on everyone’s good side.
Tonight, we’ve left Raf with the twins. They’ve been knee deep in plans on how to take down the Verdis, coming up with all possible scenarios. Now that they’ve nailed down the next target, it’ll be go time.
We agreed collectively that we would move fast. We don’t have time to argue; all we need is a plan and we go with it. I’ve left that to Marco since he seems in his element when it comes to planning attacks. Being the heirs to the gun trade means they have more than just guns in their arsenal. They have kick ass brains and a penchant for violence. They’re logical and methodical, ensuring a safe entrance and exit when the job is done.
So while the twins and Raf track their leads and go over every detail, Luca, Levi and I paint the perfect picture of unity. Little do the guests know that the unity we share is closer than just family allegiance.
“So what’s next?” I ask, moving with Luca. Our steps shuffle in time, his effortless moves proving he knows more about dancing than he lets on.
It’s a contrast to my second in command. The closest I’ve seen Levi to dancing is when I was twenty-two and we hit an underground club in the city. We snuck in, eager not to get caught or recognized, but Levi was so drunk that he made a scene with his not so elegant dance moves. Enzo had to peel his cousin off a waitress come midnight, cutting the night short but leaving us with a fond reminder that Levi cannot handle tequila.
“Raf thinks the Verdis move their product weekly, he also thinks those bodies at the docks are connected with them. And with the docks being closed, they have no extra income. They’ll be running out of funds to pay their men, meaning we’ll catch up to them soon enough.”
I’d like to say that the investigation on the trafficking ring and the closure of docks affected my businesses too, but it didn’t. Levi was smart enough to keep deliveries flowing by offsetting excess product and moving it to other areas. I still hate the fact my family's name is one of the biggest imports of drugs, but I’ve never touched the stuff. I can rely heavily on the fact that we’ve ensured control over who gets it. We can’t control the entire city, that would be na?ve of me to believe that. My position comes with burdens, and unfortunately, this isn’t one that I can’t be relieved of.
We’re still none the wiser about who shipped those women and children, not without solid proof. As far as I was aware, there was no trafficking being run out of Iris Bay. Sure, my family name is linked to that dock because we own it, but the intricate goings on of that place are down to a much smaller family.
“Maybe we should talk to the Torres family?”
Luca’s eyes narrow on me. “I’ve already talked to them, and they don’t know anything. The first they knew was when that container flew open and dead bodies spilled out.”
I hate how brash it sounds, but he’s only describing what happened. Images of floppy corpses invade my mind, forcing me to shudder at the thought. We’ve gone back and forth between a few families, trying to figure out whose name brought that shipment in, but so far, nobody has confessed.
So it’s the Bianchi name being dragged through the dirt, until the feds deem us innocent—to a certain extent. The Governor has been no help either. He advised if we were really innocent, we should just let the investigation run its course. I’m tempted to go down to his office and remind him which family pays his salary, but it already crossed my mind that it would be a bad idea. Instead, I have to sit tight and hope this bullshit rolls away before my father rescinds my position altogether.
Looking up at Luca, I find his lips parted, revealing a glittering smile I wish I got to see more often. I frown, my fingertips brushing the stubble lining his jaw. I don’t know how I missed it—maybe it’s all the time we’ve spent together this past week. “You’ve grown it back.”
Luca captures my hand, kissing my fingertips. “Somebody told me you liked it,” he smirks before leaning closer. “I told you, I listen to what you want, even when you don’t say it.”
“And what do I want right now, Fontana?” I challenge him with a smirk.
“You—“
“May I?” a deep voice asks behind me, making us both jump slightly. My heart beat skips when I recognize who the voice belongs to, but my pulse doesn’t let up because of it. In all honesty, I haven’t spoken to my father since he ordered me a week ago to attend this gathering tonight. A united front, he called it.
Call it what you will, but I refuse to kiss asses with half the men in here who never had my back when I took my position. The men who sat idly by while another family threatened me, simultaneously sending my best friend to the grave. They’re only here for my father, and that’s probably because they think he’s pulling my strings.
“Of course, Don Bianchi.” Luca nods, taking my hand and kissing the back of it before handing it to my father.
I smile weakly at him over my father’s shoulder. I know he won’t go far, but I was enjoying our moment together, even if it mostly involved business. Luca seems to grant me the reprieve I crave. Like he said before, he knows what I want, even if I don’t say it. He knows that sometimes I need that control taken from me, not because I can’t handle it, but because my hands get sore holding the reins all the time. It just makes me adore him even more because I can see how well his father brought him up. He’s a gentleman, but he’s one of the deadliest.
“ Tesora ,” my father speaks up, drawing my attention away from a winking Luca.
“Yes, Pa.”
He twirls me around, my dress fanning out below my hips. “People are talking,” he mutters.
“About what?”
“It’s easy to see that your second in command has taken a shine to you,” he smiles at me, but it’s fake. There isn’t a hint of kindness in his expression, though I’m pretty sure if an outsider was observing us, they’d believe it to be a sweet moment between father and daughter. “Marchese needs to be put in his place. Fontana, too.”
“Pa, what are you talking about?” I frown, catching Levi’s concerned look from across the dance floor. He stands beside Luca now, both muttering warily to one another.
“You are Donna Bianchi. Those men are nothing more than your soldiers.” His grip tightens around my waist, serving as a warning. “Being a woman in La Cosa Nostra is already seen as a weakness. You’re a leader. Those men will destroy you, and then what will you have?”
I push away from the man who calls himself my father. Of all the conversations we’ve had, he has never been this direct, abrupt or harsh. Where was his concern when Luciano was breaking me? Where was his fatherly support when I lost my best friend? The man I’m looking at no longer resembles my father, but a man who believes he is close to losing everything—and I’m not talking about his daughter.
“You don’t trust me to lead this family?” I question.
“ Tesora ,” his sweet tone returns. “I’m just saying that these accusations of our involvement in the flesh trade should have been handled before they even started.”
“We didn’t know that was going to happen!” I say through gritted teeth, though the urge to shout it is getting stronger by the second .
“But you would have, if your men were doing their jobs.”
“They are doing their jobs! Better than I could have asked for.”
My father’s eye roll adds to the anger bubbling beneath this tulle dress. Designer or not, I have every urge to tear it off and strangle my father with the fabric over the accusations he’s throwing.
“If they were doing their jobs, you wouldn’t have people gossiping about your relations with them.”
My eyes widen at the audacity of my father. I can’t believe what I’m hearing; my relationships should have no bearing on my ability to lead nor the ability of my men to carry out their jobs.
As my fists clench, I cast a glance over at Luca, but he’s too busy laughing at something Levi said. I look back at my father, but he’s just wearing a blank expression, nothing to give away except disappointment.
“You end it now.”
“Why?” I growl, stepping forward.
“Because, Tesora , they don’t care about you.”
Levi locks eyes with me, and I see the concern marring his features. He looks like he’s prepared to march over and whisk me away, but I don’t want that. Not here . If what my father is saying is true, then I don’t want to be seen as weak. Having these men behind me no longer serves as a reminder of my power, but gives way to speculation.
My fingernails dig into my palms, the anger coursing through so venomously that the only thing I can do is walk away. I don’t say a word to my father. I avoid eye contact with Levi and Luca as I turn on my heel and head away from the dance floor.
It isn’t until I’m outside, marching across the parking lot in the cool night breeze that I’m finally able to breathe. It felt like that moment was slowly suffocating me, but I didn’t know it. I look out at the expensive cars parked out here, wondering if every single person really thinks what my father said.
Am I weak?
As the crisp air fills my lungs, I clap a palm to my chest, chasing my erratic breaths until they’re nothing more than a steady rhythm. I think about what my father said. I don’t believe for a second that those people in there care about the men I keep beside me. All they see is my second in command and my enforcer… right?
Footsteps pace behind me, and I turn around to see Giovanni catching up to me. But the moment he does, I hear the click of a gun.
It all happens so fast.
One minute I’m locking eyes with Giovanni, the next I’m pummeled to the ground, gasping for the oxygen that was just knocked out of me.
Giovanni rolls away from me in less than a second, his gun already in his hand as he aims and shoots into the darkness.
I don’t see them at first, too dazed to see past my blurry vision. I must have knocked my head against the pavement, because the pain behind it is so excruciating that I have to bring my hand up to soothe it. Warmth coats my fingertips. It’s not a lot of blood, but enough to make me dizzy, enough to make me squint and bite back a groan.
From the corner of my eye, I watch Giovanni shoot over and over. He’s an expert, taking down the attackers one by one. The only way I know that is because the gunshots seem to lessen.
With his body blocking mine, he guides me between two cars. Suddenly, I’m yanked sideways. My body shifts, and I have no way to control or fight it.
“Put the gun down!” the assailant orders, pressing the warm barrel of his own gun to my head.
I freeze, staring at a wide-eyed Giovanni. He’s so deathly calm it’s unnerving. But for some reason, I’m not scared. I’ve already had two near death experiences, what’s another? Now that I know the capabilities of the men around me, I don’t need to fear death, I need to embrace it.
I grip the man’s arms, fighting back, but between the dizziness in my brain and my lungs still trying to work again, he’s too strong.
To my surprise, Giovanni doesn’t comply, either. He aims his gun, challenging the assailant, and in a matter of seconds, two gunshots ring out.
Pressure disappears from my body, the cold air replacing his sticky heat as the man behind me drops to the ground with a thud. My pulse beats so loudly that, paired with the ringing, I don’t have a clue what is going on until I turn to see Giovanni clutching his stomach.
I lunge forward, but it’s too late.
“No!”