Chapter 1 #2
Struggling to open the bandage wrapper with his thick fingers, he fumbled for a moment. I took it from him impatiently and ripped it open, holding it steady while he applied pressure before securing it over my wound.
"Your mother won't like this," he mumbled under his breath, his eyes not meeting mine.
"My mother will never know." I clenched my jaw, fury rising despite my best efforts to hold it back. No matter what I did, no matter how many enemies I took out or how much money I made, I'd always be seen as nothing more than a man’s appendage. I’ve been running this family for two years now, and in that time, we’ve been more successful than in the thirty years my father was Don.
I wasn't about to turn back now. Taking over this family and rebuilding it from the ground up would be my legacy, and I’d be the first woman to lead a Chicago mafia family publicly.
I just had to play my cards right and wait for the right moment.
Carefully sliding my arm into the dress sleeve, I grabbed my large winter coat.
Cashmere, black, expensive. I flicked my hair out from where it had gotten tucked into the collar.
I squared my shoulders, adjusted my posture, and pasted on a sweet, slightly vacant smile.
I was back to being a lady, the Carminatti princess.
My dress would raise no questions. If I needed to act a little inebriated to sell the story, I would.
"Good night, Mathias," I said, giving him a warm smile that didn't reach my eyes, and pushing the door open.
The cold December night hit me like a physical force. The wind sliced through even my expensive coat, and I pulled it tighter around myself. Snow had started falling while we'd been inside, light flurries that caught in the streetlights and made everything look deceptively peaceful.
Something down the street caught my eye: a large, blacked-out SUV idling at the curb about fifty yards away. I knew he was close; my men had alerted me before we even entered the warehouse.
I was sure the Venosa family would be monitoring the situation.
Our organization had leaders in all the major cities who kept a close watch on each family.
There were expectations and rules we needed to follow, but we could operate as families without constant oversight as long as we didn't cause too much chaos.
The Venosa men would step in if things went wrong, but I also knew our blood would be spilled alongside whoever we were taking down. They didn't play favorites. Niccolò Venosa was the only man more ruthless than me, from what I'd heard.
I'd never seen him, but I'd heard stories.
His scars from countless fights, his imposing stature, his tattoo-covered body, and, because women in this world couldn't escape the gossip, the weapon between his legs.
Being a woman had its downsides here, and the constant crude gossip was at the top of that list.
We weren't allowed to get involved in the danger, so dinner parties and fundraisers kept us busy.
But as a daughter rather than a son, my mother had forbidden me from participating in most of it.
I was the princess, the bargaining chip, the mystery my parents dangled before the circles they wanted to infiltrate.
I wasn't just a princess, though. I've been running the Carminatti family for the past two years, and I wasn't about to relinquish the power I've built and hand it back to my father.
No, I know how to keep him in line, even if my methods are dark.
Even if I have to keep him sedated and compliant, a puppet while I pull the strings.
Straddling both worlds was exhausting, but I couldn't show my hand now. Not yet.
I watched the SUV move forward, crawling slowly past the warehouse. I tilted my head slightly, letting my hair fall around my face like a curtain, hoping to avoid being recognized. The last thing I wanted was for Niccolò Venosa to know exactly who had just taken out one of his registered families.
After it passed, I stood tall, smoothly pushed my hair away from my face, and approached the black town car waiting for me at the corner, its engine idling and exhaust forming clouds in the cold air.
It was time to sleep. Or at least pretend to.
Settling into the buttery leather seats, I let myself relax for the first time in hours. My arm throbbed, but it was manageable. I'd had worse.
My phone chimed, its sound sharp in the quiet car. Reaching into my purse, I rummaged through lipstick, compact, and the small handgun I always carried until my hand landed on it.
Mother: Make sure you're at the salon by two. We have the symphony tonight. Your dress is hanging in your closet. I hope you didn't stay out too late last night.
Groaning, I completely forgot about the symphony tonight.
I loved going, genuinely loved it, one of the few genuine pleasures I allowed myself, but it was the last thing I wanted to do after taking out an enemy.
It was going to take my mother's glam team hours to get me looking presentable for tonight, to transform me from the ghost who'd just killed a dozen men into the pristine princess who smiled at society's elite.
Me: Thanks for waking me up. I'll be there. Don't text back; I'm going back to sleep. My phone is off.
I knew she would respond anyway. My mother could never resist having the last word. So, I did just what I said I would. I turned off my phone and watched the city lights blur past the window as we drove toward my apartment.
The divide in my life had never felt sharper than at that moment.
In a few hours, I would wear a designer gown, have my hair perfect, my makeup flawless, and sit in a box seat at the Symphony Center while musicians played Tchaikovsky or Mahler.
And my arm would throb beneath my dress, a secret reminder of who I truly was.
I closed my eyes and let the exhaustion wash over me.
The city will wake up to news of the Esposito massacre. Speculation would run rampant. And I will smile calmly through it all, just another pretty face in a world full of pretty faces.
But in the shadows, where I truly lived, my legend would grow.