“For now, it seems.”
I imagine Juliet is with him because he sounds happy, and then she giggles in the background.
“All good there?” I don’t want our relationship to become all work with no brotherly connection. “Tell Juliet ‘hi’.”
“Will do. How are you?”
“I spotted a couple of Albanians selling coke upstairs earlier. I’ll keep my eye on it. Other than that, seems pretty normal.”
“Good, so I’ll see you at the gala tomorrow night?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“I don’t know how a mask is going to hide your ugly mug. Do you have a date?”
“Going stag, in between annual flings.”
“Looking forward to it actually, I get to introduce Juliet to everyone.”
“Well, her ring will arrive in the room before either of you.”
“Thanks,” he chuckles, “nothing is too good for my woman.”
“Ciao,” I say and hang up.
Good, maybe now that Commissioner Manara has backed off, life will get back to our abnormal but normal life.
3
Francesca
Awarm shiver runs down my spine when his eyes run over my body. A man of his stature should know that I am not some young chick here looking to get laid. My gaze buckles under his and I look away hoping he didn't catch me staring at him. I’m not used to taking a back seat in any situation and the past few days have me reeling.
Dad died unexpectedly and the new management has cut off my monthly allowance and fired me from my job of overseeing the women my dad human trafficked as well as some side jobs that only he knew about. It played to his advantage that he was the only one who knew how skilled I was at ground warfare and hand combat. Never show your enemy all your strengths he used to say.
I abhor that he did that but if I was too vocal about it, I’d be silenced so I decided to build myself up to not be fucked with by anyone and I became a go between for the girls he used. Turning them loose would result in my head being ripped off . . . and not in a gentle manner. Dad came down on us harder than anyone else as we had to be tougher than everyone and he thought a bit of slapping around would help him achieve this.
I don’t know what the Calabrese family has in store for the organization, but I do know they are not fond of me or my fight to end this barbaric tradition that has become a huge money maker for them. We have brothels everywhere and it’s also a haven for drugs to be sold to clients. Another lucrative business we’re into, especially with the profit margins of cocaine.
I’m repulsed by the slimy operations, and I have to be careful of enemies within my family, which are too many to count. They exist everywhere— shadows with no faces. My brothers would be the most likely candidates the Calabreses would send if they wanted me gone. Oldest trick in the book is to be taken down by those closest to you.
I’m quiet and I don’t advertise what I do with all my time at the gym, and they are not privy to as much of my life as they should be. I like to learn and if I make a mistake, I go back and learn why and fix it. One can never go directly against an organization this large. One has to be streetwise and plan a strategy. Or have powerful allies.
Being without a job is new to me and I don’t relish being broke any time soon. Not that I don’t have a lucrative side business after I coached a woman boxer who went on to claim a title. I won a deal on outer wear with my brand on it. But no one knows the woman behind the company, that would give it away. And that’s what public relations people are for, as well as numerous shell corporations.
I have money saved but I have expensive habits, and everyone knows it judging from my car that costs more than most middle-class homes.
I was the fuckingprincipessaof the most feared don in Italy. How dare the Calabreses treat me like I’m just any other woman in the street? One would think it was the Dark Ages for the lack of respect I get, and I’m only allowed on the fringes of the men’s world. And God forbid they try to marry me off. Some girls are auctioned off, or worse, sold into slavery once your husband doesn’t favor your bed anymore.
I demand respect but it appears to have slipped their mind. Since my father was gunned down, all I’ve gotten are snide remarks and slurs about being a woman and knowing my place. Any time I don’t agree with the family the men in the chain of command greet me with comments most American women would slap them for, like the fact that I’m good for taking a dude’s cock in my mouth.
It disgusts me that we have to put up with this treatment. But one day they will get theirs and maybe I’ll be the one to show them what retribution is all about. Maybe then they will look at me with respect.
I hoped it would be cathartic for me when my father died. He didn’t think twice about inflicting his cruelty upon his own kids. There are too many occasions to count when I hid under my bed or in the wine cellar until he fell asleep at night. But he stills gives me nightmares.
I might wear the latest and most fashionable clothing and carry the most expensive designer bags, but it never escapes my mind that I probably paid the most out of everyone for the privileges I received. I wasn’t always so lucky at escaping his wrath.
I don’t understand what makes a man do those things to his own flesh and blood. I hate men who bring their work home with them and use their wife and kids as their punching bags. I just hate men in general.