She chooses the couch opposite me and takes in the food and the wine. I fill her glass and she immediately gulps down half the glass.
I raise an eyebrow. “Do you know how much that costs?”
“You can afford it. Keep filling the glass.” She spears a piece of Parma on her fork and puts it in her mouth, groaning as she chews. “Thank you. I needed this.”
“I figured I might have worn you out.”
She huffs. “Yeah. A bit.”
“Did you like Bietini?”
“Oh, it was wonderful! The people, the silence, the feeling that time didn’t matter. Alessandra made me feel like one of them, as if she was my sister. Actually, can I have her number? I want to tell her I’m home.”
Home?
Time stops. Chloe keeps my gaze, then drains the glass and holds it up.
“Sure.” I refill her glass before I tap up Alessandra’s number on my phone. “I’ll share her contact info.”
She jumps as her phone buzzes and then digs it out of her back pocket. “Damn, I’m totally not used to carrying around one of these anymore. Hang on.” She taps away on the phone, her thumbs moving quickly over the screen, then she puts it on the table. It only takes a few seconds before it buzzes again. She looks at it and smiles, holding it up for me to read.
‘I’m glad to hear you are okay. Tell him to behave or he’ll have the whole village to answer to. You’re one of us now.”
My heart somersaults. Those simple words mean the world; to hear that she embraced my people, and that they loved her.
“What makes you happy? More than fresh air and country life?”
“Oh. Ehm… I used to love to take rides along the coast. I walked a lot. I liked to exhaust myself, work every muscle until they burned.”
“So, you do like pain?”
She scoffs. “Shut up. You want me to answer your question or not?”
I gesture for her to continue as I pick up a piece of marinated asparagus.
“Silly, brain dead TV shows. Music. I love music. I used to love to go to concerts.”
“Yeah? What kind of music?”
“Rock. Punk… Leather and lace kind of music.”
“I listen to opera.”
“How Godfather of you. ‘I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse’.” She makes her voice grave, faking a heavy Italian accent.
I laugh. “You’ve got that down to a T. I’m just kidding. I hate opera. I don’t have time for music, or movies, or concerts. I have very little free time.”
“Can’t you decide that for yourself? Isn’t it your business?”
I shrug. “I set the ball in motion and it doesn’t stop rolling. People will question my authority if I slack off.”
“You’ve seemed to have had a lot of time for me.”
“I’ve been motivated.”
She cocks her head. “Why?”
I hold her gaze. I don’t know how to answer that. I wanted a plaything, a slave. Had she budged early on, she would have been that and nothing else. I would never have gotten to know her. I would never had seen her with my son, never have known her background. “I have no answer that would come out right.”
“Since when do you care about that?”
“Since now.”
Chloe is silent for a long time. The air between us thickens. She drains her second glass and I refill it. “What changed?” she finally asks.
“My whole world changed. Everything. I’m in a deep fucking pit and I’m trying to claw my way back up. I realized how wrong I’ve done you and I want to make it right.”
“How?” she whispers. “How are you going to make it right?”
“What do you want, Chloe?”
“My freedom,” she says without hesitation, holding my gaze.
My heart sinks. “You want to leave?”
“Let me be free to come and go? Like… a normal person.”
“I can do that.”
Her eyes widen. “A car.”
“Anything.”
“My things? Where are my things?”
I frown.
“From my apartment,” she adds. “My stuff.”
“Oh. I had them stored. I made it look like you moved.”
Her face lights up. “Really? You went through a lot of trouble to throw a girl in chains.”
“I had someone do it. No trouble.”
“Perks of being the boss?”
I shrug.
“Your old bedroom, you’re redecorating it?”
“I’m tearing down the whole wing. I’ll have it rebuilt.”
“Do you have a plan for it?”
“Some… but I haven’t had the time to sit down with the architect.”
“I… That’s another passion of mine. I love to decorate. To have that whole part of the house to play with would be—”
“It’s yours,” I say without hesitation. “Knock yourself out. I can’t wait to see what you do with it.”
Her features brighten. “Cool.” She drains the last of the wine. “I’m tired.”
Tired. Just that. Not demanding a key to a car.
“Come,” I say and take her hand. “Let’s go to bed.”
Chapter 33
Luciano
“Elena changed my life. We met in Chicago many years ago when I was nothing but a pup who rushed aimlessly through existence. She put me on my path and never let me stray. We began as friends and continued as business partners. When she wanted to move back home to care for her dying mother, I followed. She always had my back; she was always there. I miss her every minute, with every breath I take. She had one of the most brilliant minds I have ever come across, was loved by everyone she met, always had an ear for other’s troubles, and never asked for anything in return. Her passion for the weak, for the beaten and the cast outs was admirable, and she leaves an empty space in this town that will never be filled. I’m proud to have counted her as my friend.”
I stand before the crowd, before the people who honor Elena’s life and who grieve her death. I’m the last one to talk. In front of me sit all the girls from the brothel, none of them looking even remotely seductive or cheap today. There are also a few people who were her friends outside the organization: two men and a woman, that I’ve never seen. Ivan sits next to an inconsolable Carmen who sobs constantly, clutching David’s hand. David squirms, looking uncomfortable in his black suit, tailored for this occasion in the softest possible material, with nothing that itches. He’s got red sneakers on that stand out like a sore thumb in all the black. Getting him into proper shoes was impossible. My eyes fall on Chloe, sitting next to my empty chair in the front, on the other side of David. We tiptoed around the subject for days, but finally she asked if I wanted her here.
She looks somber, her eyes trained on me. There’s an invisible string between us, a pull. It’s more than sex. It’s been more than sex for a long while. The change began that day I found her next to David, sitting on the floor in the hallway. She comforted him. The door was unlocked, she could have run, but she prioritized the scared little child. I refused to acknowledge it for a long while, but inch by inch, disaster by disaster, she has become someone I can’t live without. Won’t. Burying Elena today hammers that fact in with deadly strength. I’ve fought my whole life to never let anyone close, to never love again for fear of losing it, but my experiment has become my own downfall.
I need this woman.
The sky is fittingly overcast and the grass is still wet from the morning rain. As we all stand, the priest says his final words and then the casket is lowered into the ground. I choke down the scream that wants to escape me. It’s not fair. She had so much time left. Should have had.
A cool hand in mine makes me twitch. I look at Chloe and then down at our joined hands, squeezing a silent thank you.
I really fucking need this woman.
When we break up the gathering and move toward the cars parked to the side, I keep seeing the casket before me on repeat, that shovel
of dirt thrown upon it, the red roses, the weeping girls. I hate that I can’t just call her, that I can’t show up late at night in her kitchen when I can’t sleep. I hate that she doesn’t exist anymore. I still can’t fathom it.
Chloe stands next to me on the sidewalk, her fragile beauty enhanced by the black skirt and matching suit jacket with its wide collar, her hair in a simple bun at her neck. I put my hand on the backdoor to the car, then I drop my arm. She looks up and frowns.
“Walk with me,” I say. I knock on the window and wait for it to slide open. “Wait for us outside.” I tilt my head toward the exit of the cemetery, then I put a hand in the small of Chloe’s back and pull her with me, away from the open grave, away from the flowers, and the silence of the dead.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“How did you feel when your parents died? You were ten, you have to remember that day as if it was yesterday.”
She looks down, inhales. “Time froze. It was as if the air suddenly got ice cold, and it was in the middle of the summer. We had a babysitter. Mom and Dad had been to the cinema. They had a date night every Wednesday. They got mugged and shot. Dad had tried to defend Mom. He was found lying partly across her body. The one shot had penetrated them both. I went to school the next day. I just couldn’t believe it. I was in such shock. The babysitter stayed the night. Then we went to an emergency foster home for a few weeks before an aunt agreed to take us in, one of Mom’s sisters. The other relatives didn’t live close and had children of their own. They didn’t step up. Neither did this aunt until she was told she’d make some money. I don’t think I mourned properly until years later, when I lashed out instead, got reckless, uncaring. My brothers got in with the wrong company. My little sister went missing. It tore us apart. We had no one who fended for us, and it all went to shit. I put the lid on. I think it hurt too much. It was the little things, you know, that kept stabbing me.”
“Like what?”
“Like coming down for breakfast and just getting a sandwich instead of milk and cereal and freshly cut fruit. Like always taking a left turn for the bathroom instead of a right.”
“Because you weren’t living in your house anymore?”
She nods.
“You inherited money at least?”
“Yeah, but dear Auntie managed to use it all up before we turned eighteen and could claim it.”
“Is she still alive?”
“I think so. I haven’t talked to her once since I moved out.”
“Give me her address.”
Chloe twitches. “Eh, no. What are you planning on doing?”
“Have I not told you? No one fucks with what’s mine.”
“What the fuck? Luci. I know you’re messed up right now, with all that’s happened, you’re not thinking straight. Just leave it. It’s in the past. If you go poking, you’d hurt me, can’t you see that? I’ve moved on. I don’t think about her. Ever.”
“You are now.”
“You asked.”
I cock my head in acknowledgement. True. “Very well.”
We’ve reached a small stone wall at the end of the cemetery. Behind it there’s a grass covered riverbank and a slow flowing river. I hop over the wall, give Chloe my hand to help her climb it as well and then I sink down on it, my back to the graves, resting my eyes on the water.
“I was five,” I say. “When my parents died.”
“Oh my God. I didn’t know! I’m so sorry!”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. I don’t remember it at all. I don’t remember them. My sister Bianca is ten years older. All impressions I’ve got of my parents, I got from what she told me, so I have all these faked memories I’ve built from a couple of worn photographs, and her stories.”
“It’s horrible to lose your parents. There’s a hole inside you forever. It never mends. Every new milepost you pass, every achievement, you instinctively want to seek their approval, but there’s no one there.”
I can’t relate to what she’s saying. All I remember is a childhood of pain and abandonment. My sister was–is–special. She did take me in, let me live under her and her husband Jackie’s roof, but she’s unable to show affection and the little kid I was needed it badly. She popped a few kids, which gave me a sense of connection, and later a few of them became my business partners. But seeking approval? I don’t think I ever did. I made my own luck, made sure that I’d never end up poor and dependent again. And I hated. I hated everyone and everything.
“Yeah. There’s no one there,” I finally say. I don’t know what to say. I don’t talk about my shit. Not with anyone. Elena was the only one who knew everything, she made me forget temporarily. Our games, my increasingly brutal exploring of my sadistic side blanked out my mind for a few moments when we were together, put me in another space, and now she’s gone. I’ve sought it ever since, found it occasionally, lost myself in feeding off others terror instead of my own.
We sit in silence. The sun breaks through the clouds, dissolves the light mist that has hovered over the water.
I glance at Chloe. She has given me the same sense of peace. The realization strikes me like a blunt hit to my chest. It’s there when we fuck, it’s there when I tie her up and spank her, when I make her whimper with pain and pleasure, but it’s also there in the quiet mornings, just seeing her moving around the house, in knowing she’s around. I rub at my chest. I’m so fucking messed up.
“Let’s go,” I grit out. “I’m done here.”
Chloe
I’m seeing new sides of Luciano every day. He works a lot, but it’s clear he sneaks away to be with me. He often pulls me out in the garden for walks in the shadows, under the crowns of the large trees. He’s set up a temporary gym in one of the guest rooms next to where we sleep and we work ourselves to exhaustion every morning, spurring each other on.
Sometimes he’s gone for days, with nothing but a short message telling me to behave. He’s always darker, rougher, after those trips, and it takes a while before he comes back to himself.
I have freedom, but I’m terrified of using it. I see my brothers regularly. They still give me shit for not letting them work in the organization, but I stand firm. If they’re grumpy over that, it’s nothing compared to how they react when I say I’ve enrolled them in classes so they can get their General Education Diploma, and if they ever end up in jail again I’ll tear off their ears. They say they’re not afraid of me, but I think they are. A little. I was always a bit of a bitch with them, and I’ve found a new strength that comes from knowing who’s got my back.
Luci. Luciano Salvatore.
The cause of so much pain, to me and to others, but also giving me a sense of belonging I’ve never had before.
I can’t change this man. He is who he is.
I know I have changed, though.
In part I’m stronger, I’m happier, it’s as if I have a family after all these years. I Skype with Alessandra several times a week, and I’m making plans for going back to visit.
In part I’m darker, rougher around the edges. I have less patience with people, I don’t aim to please anyone. I’ve found a dominant streak in myself. I can’t take it out on Luci, because he’s not having it. He forces me into submission, making me forget about everything else when he makes my body burn. I do tear new holes in the contractors almost every day, though, if they’re late, or sloppy, or if a shade of color isn’t what I asked for. I simply won’t have anyone walking over me. I’m having a blast rebuilding a large part of this giant house. It’ll be bright, the ceiling high, huge windows, a private garden only accessible through our rooms, and no fucking torture chamber in the basement. There is however a playroom there.
“Where do you want these?” Ivan has his arms full of wallpaper samples. I’m so happy to see him again. He’s been such an integral part of my life for a long while. Apart from Alessandra, Ivan is my closest friend and when I thought he was dying, it hurt me more than the bruises on my own body.
“Club
room. It’s empty during the day, so we can nail these to the wall there and I’ll choose.”
He nods and spins on his heels. I trail after him. He’s regained his physique and I think he’s even larger than he was before. “When are you going back to your regular duties, Ivan?”
“I’m healed. I have my strength back.”
“You already working?”
He nods.
“Man! Why didn’t you tell me? Damn. Then I’m gonna need another henchman. I need someone I can trust.”
“Your brothers?”
“Trust, I said.”
Ivan gives out a laugh that sounds more like a bark. “I’ll find someone for you. How are you finding the family?”
“Luci’s?”
“His sister dearest. Matteo. Eric and his Anna.”
“Matteo is a sweetheart, always so funny. Anna is nice, I guess. A little meek maybe.”
“Anna is nice,” says Ivan, echoing my statement. “She’s one hell of a lady. Anyone would appear like a mouse next to Eric.”
“Mm, true. He’s—He’s really dominant. Frankly, he scares the shit out of me sometimes, just from walking through a door. They’re all… special.”
“Mrs. Russo takes some getting used to. I think the two of you will go head to head for a long while because neither of you will budge. She’s always had the upper hand in being the one the boss listens to. Things have changed and she needs to figure out where you all stand.”
“I know where I stand.”
Ivan dumps the rolls of paper on the bar and walks around it, pulling at drawers, rummaging through them. “And where is that?”
“Eh...” I purse my lips. Maybe I don’t quite know where I stand? “It’s complicated,” I finally say.
Ivan holds up a little box, a triumphant grin on his face. “I don’t envy you. He’s a tough man.”
Capo Page 27
