Imake my way into the secret room used for dirty deals as the auctioneer rattles off numbers to match the women who are under the pretense of a gala upstairs. I walk into this blindly, and I hate not being prepared. The man commanding the room is going through the women quicker than a collection of Di Vinci drawings at a Sotheby’s auction.
To avoid a paper trail or mistaken identity, the men in attendance are looking at a large screen TV showing pictures of the women, while security cameras affixed to the walls keep an eye on everything. These old walls have been painted over countless times during the 119 years of the museum’s existence.
I’m impressed at the level of ingenuity but still find this repulsive. How can men sell their daughters? What ever happened to simply arranging a marriage? Families did that for centuries to build wealth and form alliances.
Daughters are considered the little princesses of the family, but if this is what they are groomed for, it’s seriously fucked up. Believe me, I know. I have fucked up more men and women over the years than I care to admit.
Some would consider me a hypocrite because my grandfather takes part in human trafficking, but this is treating family like livestock, to be sold to the highest bidder. My grandfather trafficks in strangers, not family. Not that it’s right, but one would think family would be more compassionate.
Auctioning off the daughters of dons pisses me off to no end and goes against even my questionable moral code. Women and children should be off limits when it comes to this shit. Some women volunteer for it, but Valentina didn’t impress me as a complicit mafia princess. I noticed her eyeing the exits, but does she know what’s going on here tonight?
Doubtful.
A name is announced and the bidding continues with men nodding their heads to make a bid.
The man with the neck tattoos stumbles into the room, out of breath but here, nonetheless. By the way he stared at Valentino upstairs, I know he has his sights on her. The man is bad news. He looks like a professional killer but didn’t give away his profession to anyone other than Savio and me because we have so much in common, we can read each other.
I find Luciano De Luca and his son, Giovi, sitting together and take a seat behind them. When I tap Luciano on the shoulder, he flicks my hand away like I’m nothing.
I lean in to hiss in his ear, “I know all too well who you are, and you’re stealing from my grandfather, charging us for products we never receive. We’re short on the coke and guns you shipped us. You know the punishment for that.”
Turning around abruptly, he shouts, “Who the hell are you to tell me anything? Do you know who I am?” He’s drawing unwanted attention from those around us and smiles politely to give the impression he’s got it under control.
I know for a fact he contracts out all his killings, which tells me either he can’t stand the sight of blood, or he’s above doing the deed himself now that he’s reached ‘untouchable’ status by mafia standards.
The way he hands out money and medical supplies in Sicily is the textbook way to buy the hearts and minds of civilians, so they won’t rat him out. That’s how it’s been done since the 1800s when the mafia started in Sicily.
Valentina’s name is announced, coming up faster than I anticipated.
“I was just notified of the discrepancy. One of my lieutenants has disappeared, and we discovered the issues ourselves. It’s not me. I need time to find out who has sticky fingers.”
“Everyone lies when their life is on the line.”
“I know that, too. I assure you this is not the case. I need time.”
“Your time ran out days ago. I will bid on your daughter, and I will win.” My voice is calm, void of emotion, a business deal just like any other.
“I will not sell her to an Albanian. She needs to be in Sicily, where I can see her, make sure she’s taken care of and safe,” Luciano argues.
“I can do all that and more.”
I see the tattooed man nodding. Fuck, the bidding is fast, and this fucking prick Luciano is purposely procrastinating, trying to throw me off my game.
I’m done with his pompous ass. Looking at the auctioneer, I nod.
I’m acknowledged, and Tattoo Man shoots me his look of displeasure. By the looks of him, he’s done hard time and that’s not a fitting husband for Valentina.
I don’t have time to question why I care. I only know that once she’s in our family, we will have a working relationship with her family, and a shot at getting into the oligarchy.
I’m not going about it the way my grandfather asked, but it will work just the same. We both understand that unforeseen events transpire, and I adapt quickly to my circumstances.
There is no time to lose as someone else bids and the price just went up.
I nod again.
“Your daughter for your son’s life,” I whisper. “Final offer.”
I stand and before I can take a step, he is beside me. Squaring his shoulders, he tugs his vest down and buttons his tuxedo dinner jacket closed.