L'amor che move li sole e l'altre stelle
—Dante Aligheri, Paradiso Canto XXXIII
Chapter Twenty-six
TEN YEARS AGO,
HISTORICALLY, THE LASTRA AND Agosti families had been good friends. It was, however, the opposite with father and Rocco Agosti. While Rocco had always been known for his extravagant lifestyle and was famous for his lavish banquets, he'd never been as debauched as father in his tastes. In fact, Rocco preferred higher quality bed partners, while father preferred higher quantity.
Rocco's parties entertained the creme de la creme of New York – actors, musicians, and politicians all mingling together.
It had been during one of those parties I'd first seen Catalina.
I'd been attending as usual, doing my best to socialize. I'd never had a taste for these parties since the company was always lacking. But I had to go. Being the son of the Capo meant I had some social duties–even though I dreaded them.
I'd been nursing the same drink for what felt like an eternity, waiting for a chance to greet Rocco and take my leave. The party had been a crush, with too many people even for Rocco's enormous mansion. I'd retreated for a second in the garden, looking for a secluded spot to light a cigarette, when I'd seen her.
She'd been wearing a simple white dress. It wasn't sexy. Far from it. It was a boring and proper gown that showed absolutely no skin. But her face... it was the most spectacular thing I'd ever seen in my life. She was simply breathtaking. Her midnight black hair flowed freely down her back, reaching her hips. She had a pale complexion with a couple of freckles splattered on her nose and cheeks. But it was her eyes that rooted me to the spot. Slanted, cat-like eyes, her irises were such a vivid green I had to blink twice to make sure I wasn't imagining it.
I wasn't.
She wasn't a dream.
I'd taken one step toward of her when someone else approached her.
"Lina, what are you doing out here? You know you're not allowed at these parties." I'd recognize that voice and accent anywhere. It was Enzo, Rocco's son and heir. He was around my age, but we'd never hung out together. There had always been a distinction in our stations. Enzo had been groomed to be the next capo; I'd been groomed to be the one you feared when you turned off the lights
Even now, I was watching the exchange from the shadows, like always.
"I was curious. I wanted to see what these parties were all about. You never let me attend." Her voice, so soothing and melodious, fit the rest of her.
"You're too young, Lina. You know father won't like that." Enzo had commented, steering her towards the entrance of the house. I'd hidden even deeper in the shadows, not wanting to intrude. Putting two and two together, I realized the girl must be Rocco's youngest daughter, Catalina.
"I'll be eighteen soon, Enzo. I'm not that young, you know."
"I know, piccola. Do you really want to grow up so soon? Father is already looking for a match." They had then disappeared somewhere in the house. A strange feeling had developed inside my soul that night.
Catalina could marry no one but me.
I knew someone like me could never deserve her. She was like a ray of sunshine in my otherwise bleak life. But I could try. I could try to deserve her... to be a good man for her.
TWO MONTHS LATER,
"I THOUGHT YOU WOULDN'T come." She leans against the fence, seeking to see my face. I draw my hood, not wanting her to realize just how bad I look. Even though it's been a few days now since the beating, my face is still swollen, a mix of purple and yellow all around my eyes and nose.
"I thought I wouldn't come either." I admit, my voice gruff with pain. My stab wound had gotten infected. This morning I'd noticed yellow puss coming out of it, so I'd had to cut into it again and drain it. But I won't tell her this. It would make her worry. Worry about me... It's so foreign to think about anyone giving a shit about how I'm doing, or whether I'm in pain.
I peer at her from beneath my hood, taking in her celestial face. Seeing her shy smile makes everything fade in the background.
"I can't stay long." Father has been keeping tabs on all my movements. I'd lost the men he'd tasked with following me, but I won't take any risks with Catalina.
I'm starting to believe that no matter how much I want it, or how much I try, I can never be with her. It would mean inviting danger into her life, and I'd die before allowing something as pure as her to be defiled by evil.
It had taken me a few sleepless nights, but I'd decided to stay away from her. Even though I've already spoken to Rocco about the match, I'll just have to take a step back. It's for the best.
"Are you sure you're ok?" She scans me, her eyebrows knit together in worry.
"Yeah... thank you. For everything." I try to convey what I'm feeling with my words, but I doubt anything would do it justice. She's like a ray of sunshine, and I'll be carrying this memory of her for eternity.
I take a deep breath and blink twice to stop myself from tearing up. Funny how I'd never cried during the worst torture, but the thought of never seeing her again has me almost bawling my eyes out.
The saddest part is that I won't ever meet her again – not even in the afterlife. She belongs with the angels, while I belong in the gutter.
"Hey, are you ok?" She tries to get my attention and I realize I got lost in my thoughts.
"I won't be able to come again." I tell her. "It's... complicated."
Her expression falls, and she seems sad at hearing that.
"Are you in trouble? Maybe I can put in a word with my father, or my brother." Catalina immediately offers, and I feel the rift between us widening even more. No one can help me. No one.
But at least she offered.
I stand up to leave, knowing that if I stay a second longer, my resolve will falter.
"Lord!" She exclaims, pointing at my chest. I look down and see that my wound has opened again. "You're bleeding again."
I shrug and turn to leave.
"No, wait." Her hands reach behind her neck and she unties her scarf. "Can you come a little closer?" I stop for a moment, debating if it's wise to do this when I'm craving her like a famished man.
But just like a man on the brink of starvation, I go. I don't think I could ever say no to her. When I'm next to the opening in the fence, she reaches between the pickets to wrap her scarf around my torso. She struggles a little, so I try to help her, getting one last feel of her soft hands.
"Thank you." I say once again, and I bring both her hands to my lips. What I wouldn't give to worship this woman for the rest of my life... But I, better than anyone, should know that we seldom get what we wish for.
With a last parting gaze, I leave, holding a piece of her with me forever.
She's all that's pure and good, and I want her to remain like that. I would only taint her with my bloodstained hands; hold her down with the weight of my sins. She deserves better; for I wouldn't wish myself upon my greatest enemies. She deserves the heavens and above, but I can only give her hell and below.
So I let her go.
And with her, I'm also leaving my heart behind — or what little I had left.
A FEW DAYS LATER,
I WAKE UP WITH residual pain in my ribs. I groan, stretching a little to find a more comfortable position. I extend my hand, grabbing onto the silky material on the pillow next to me. I bring it to my nose, inhaling the soft scent of Catalina.
I'm never washing this.
I'm lost in dreams of her when someone knock on my door.
"Tuo padre ti sta chiamando." He yells and I wince. When father calls, I have to answer.
Carefully folding the scarf and putting it in a safe space, I dress up and leave. The soldier who'd knocked on my door tells me to head to the basement. Father has a surprise for me, he says.
I don't want to know what type of surprise awaits me in the basement, especially after the last beating.
I school my feature into a bored look and go down the stairs. Opening the door, I step inside. I have to blin
k a few times to let my eyes accommodate to the sudden lack of lighting.
"Marcello, just who I was looking for." Father greets me with an enthusiasm that belies his very nature.
"Father." I reply in greeting.
"Come, come. Let me show you what I got you."
I frown. "What you got me?" I ask, confused at his words. He's never in his life gotten me anything.
"Consider this a gift for your years of service." He leads me deeper into the basement, opening another door.
I take only when step and I stop, thinking my eyes are playing tricks on me.
But they're not.
The table in the middle of the room, usually used for torture, is now housing a new prisoner. Her wrists and ankles are locked at each end of the table, her body forming the shape of an X. Her dress is completely torn, her back a mess of skin and blood, red liquid still coursing down her legs.
Catalina.
"What do you say, boy? Like my gift? I have to say it wasn't that easy to get it. But I already marked her for you." He gloats, and proceeds to tell me how they'd abducted her from the front of her house.
I take another step forward and realize what he meant by marking.
Father had carved an M encased by a big C in her back. The edges are raw, enough to cause God knows what pain.
Catalina...
I stifle a sob as I take in her form.
What did he do to her?
"What's this?"
"A gift for the Chimera. I'd say it's quite fitting." He preens, pointing to his knife handiwork. I clench my fists, agony lacing through my chest—still not as much as Catalina must be feeling right now. I wish I could spare her this, absorb her pain into my body. The more I look at her body strapped to that table, the more I get this murderous urge to kill everyone who dared to touch her.
"Why?" I steady my voice so father doesn't realize how affected I am by this.
"You think I haven't heard the rumors about your obsession with this girl? You haven't exactly been secretive." He snorts, and I turn to look at him. "So she is why you stopped coming to the bordello." Father smirks, his gaze leering over Catalina's form.
I take a deep breath. I won't solve anything if I attack him right now. More soldiers will come in and restrain me before I can do any damage.
"I'm right, aren't I? She's the reason you've been slacking off."
Just at that moment, a moan of pain escapes Catalina. I close my eyes, silently asking for forgiveness. Everything I feared before just happened.
Now I can only hope to minimize the damage.
"I haven't been slacking off." I reply. It is technically true. I've killed as I always kill—clinically and efficiently.
"Really?" Father raises an eyebrow, and I know that it's a moot point to keep explaining myself. "This is rather simple. I got her so you can enjoy her, get her out of your system. She's a virgin, isn't she? The best kind." He nods approvingly, and I'm getting sick to my stomach just listening to him speak about her like that. "You'll be the first to sample her charms. If that's not the perfect gift." He gives a whistle, shaking his head in amusement. "Her blood coating your cock. Top quality right here, boy."
"You forget she's Rocco's daughter. We can't do that." I bring up my best argument as I try to reason with him. Surely even he can see how dangerous this is.
"As if I care." He shrugs, taking out a cigar and lighting it up. "I need you to get your head in the game, and it won't happen until she's out of your system. So go ahead. Fuck her." He motions dismissively to her feeble form.
"I will do nothing." For the first time, I'm saying no. I've had no limits before, but I find that Catalina is where I draw the line.
Father takes a deep drag of his cigar, his eyes intent on me.
"You are pussy-whipped, aren't you? He was right." Father notes thoughtfully.
"Who?"
He shrugs. "If you don't want her, I'll just give her to the guards. I bet they'll love it."
My eyes widen as I understand the enormity of the situation. It's my fault. All my fault...
It only took one interaction to her. Everything I touch turns to dust... I turn my head slightly towards the table, and I know what to do.
I'll give father something he's always wanted, but never got.
My knees bend slowly, until I'm at his feet. Head bent; I kiss his feet.
"I'll do anything. Please... just let her go." I supplicate him, the ultimate act of subservience.
Father laughs. He actually throws his head back and laughs.
Still on the ground, I keep my eyes to the floor.
"Please..."
"See, boy. This is exactly what I was talking about. You're weak. This," He motions to Catalina "is making you weak. How can I trust you to do what's necessary for the famiglia when you'd do anything for her? Would you die for her?" He asks sarcastically, already knowing the answer. "I thought I beat those feelings out of you a long time ago, boy." He sighs, shaking his head in disappointment. "It seems you need one last nudge to let go. So you either kill those fucking emotions that make you a goddamn pussy, or..." He removes his gun from the back of his trousers and points it to Catalina. Panic swells inside of me, so I immediately nod.
"I'll do whatever you want." Anything for him to spare her.
"You have two choices, boy. You fuck her out of your system, or you get to watch my soldiers each get a turn. What do you say?" His mouth pulls into an evil smile, and I realize he's got me cornered.
"I can't do that to her. She'll..."
"Yes." A satisfied grin spreads across his face. "She'll hate you. She will despise you for the rest of her life. Either you do it or..."
"But father, she's innocent." I know my words are in vain, but I need to sway him in any way I can.
"No one's innocent in this world, boy. And that was your first mistake. Pussy is pussy. You put her on a pedestal and allowed basic emotions to cloud your judgement. If this is what it takes to drive out these feelings out of you by force, then so be it. Take her and get your fill. Defile her and see how you can stand yourself afterwards." He chuckles.
"Two choices, Marcello. You can fuck her and hate yourself or you can watch everyone else fuck her and hate yourself. It's a win-win situation for me. But for you... hmm. It's such a conundrum, isn't it? Do it yourself and watch her despise you, or step back and let others fuck her. She won't even know you were involved."
"No..." I whisper. This is exactly what my father excels at—psychological games. He knows that I'll be full of self-loathing at the end.
"No?" He raises his eyebrows a fraction before shrugging. "Silvio, come, you go first." One soldier comes inside.
"No. Stop it. Please no. I'm already on my knees, begging you. Please..." I don't even recognize my voice as I beseech him. I can't do this to Catalina, not to my sweet Lina.
He turns his head and spits at me.
"See, that's exactly what I hate about you. You're just like your mother, begging me on your knees. Tell me, will you suck my cock like your mother did? Maybe if you do that, I'll spare her."
I'm stunned at his words, and I don't even think as I nod.
"Anything." There's nothing I wouldn't do for her. I'm already gone.
Father pauses, looking at me with an inscrutable expression. Then he chuckles.
"Damn boy, I should have known you were a homo." There's a sinister smile on his face as he looks down at me. "I'll make you a deal." He says, his eyes crinkling with excitement. "Get me hard, and I'll let her go. Fail and..." He shakes his head, whistling.
God... so this is what it's come to? I nod again. What's one more humiliation for me? I can take it. Lina... she can't.
With a crooked smirk, he unbuttons his pants and takes out his flaccid penis, waving it in my face.
"Let's see how well you put that mouth to use." His expression tells me that he already expects me to fail.
Knowing what's at stake, I close my eyes, emptying my mind.
I can
do this!
Taking a deep breath, I take his dick in my hand, bringing it to my mouth. I open wide as I take him inside, dying a little as I work my tongue around him. I try everything I can think of, silently praying it would elicit a reaction.
Father is sporting a bored expression, his hands crossed across his chest as he watches me choke on his cock. As I lick him, a small twitching of his dick gives me hope. Just as I'm about to apply more suction, he pushes me off, his foot nabbing me in the forehead and shoving me to the ground.
I can see he's semi-erect by now, but he quickly tucks himself in.
"You wouldn't even be a good whore." He spits on me, the tip of his shoe making contact with my ribs and making me wince.
Shit! My wound!
Father shakes his head callously.
"It seems that you failed, boy." He raises an eyebrow at me. He only did this to test my limits, shaming me in the process. "Now, what will it be?" He tips his head towards the table, raising one hand in the air, ready to signal Silvio.
"I..." I gulp down. My eyes wonder wildly around the room. There isn't any way out, is there? "I'll do it." I finally acquiesce.
"Let's see." Father nods at me, taking a seat on the chair next to the wall.
I scramble to my feet, my gaze set on Catalina.
"Let me give her some water." I say as I watch her writhe in pain, her limbs trying to move against the shackles holding her firm.
"Make it fast." He grunts.
This is the one moment that I thank the heavens for my sleeping pill addiction. I carry them with me everywhere. If I can't spare her the pain... then at least I can spare her the memory.
With my back to father, I pour a glass of water, quickly dissolving a pill inside. Then I move to the table, crouching down in front of Catalina.
Her lips are chapped and full of small lacerations. She must have bitten them when the pain had been too much. Just seeing her like this is killing me. I lift my hand and lightly stroke her hair, knowing I have no right to do so.
"Aghh..." A small moan escapes her lips, and I will myself to be strong for her sake.
"Shh, I got you." I whisper in a low voice so that father won't hear. I help her drink from the glass, glad to see most of the liquid going down her throat.
Morally Blasphemous (Morally Questionable Book 2) Page 29
