Ruthless Empire: A Dark Mafia Collection

by Seth Eden

  Once she left the room, Luca turned his attention to me. The bags and boxes he’d brought to my room had been full to bursting with new clothing. There’d been casual flats and formal pumps, a silk nightgown, some pajamas, and a week’s worth of dark business attire.

  There had also been socks, a selection of bikini panties, and five rather matronly bras. In addition, there’d been four formal gowns, suitable for fancy Sunday dinners. I’d chosen the black one for tonight. It seemed appropriate.

  Amazingly, every single bit of it fit me like a glove.

  “I begin Molly’s training tomorrow, and I want to be able to depend on all of you to help her if she needs it,” Luca announced, still looking at me.

  I got the feeling that he did this not to inform his brothers of his intentions, but to make sure they’d do as he asked.

  Gabriel set his jaw but said nothing. Alessandro scowled, shaking his head. And Marco stared at his eldest brother in defiance. Although I was sitting right next to Luca, Marco’s gaze avoided mine like the plague.

  “So this is how it’s going to be?” Marco said.

  “Marco,” Luca’s tone gave a warning, but his brother ignored it.

  “He’s not even cold in the ground yet, and you’re already changing things.”

  “I’ll change whatever I please.”

  “She disrespected him. Having her here is an insult to his memory. You’re doing our father a disservice,” Marco went on, but Luca had seemingly had enough. He jerked to his feet.

  “What I do is my business.”

  Marco stood, too, though he grimaced when he did. Presumably due to his leg. “What you do is the family’s business, brother, but you forgot that, didn’t you? It’s fine for you to go off for months on your own, to ignore us and your obligations. To turn into a shell of who you used to be, to have yourself a pity party…”

  Alessandro gasped. And wearing a look of shock on his face, Gabriel turned toward Marco putting up a hand, “Bro, stop.”

  But Marco didn’t stop. “And now that you’re back and ready to take responsibility, you bring a total stranger into our midst. I just can’t believe now that you’ve finally got your shit together that you’re going to give another woman the chance to ruin you the same way Alana did.”

  Then, it was as if a fuse blew inside Luca’s head. His face twisted into something more demonic than human as he lunged across the table toward Marco, sending glass and food and china flying. Yelping, I ducked out of the way as the Luca wrapped his hands around his brother’s throat, squeezing with deadly intent.

  Alessandro and Gabriel jumped into the fray attempting to separate them, but Luca was like a man possessed. By the time his other two brothers pulled him off Marco, the most muscular Varasso brother had nearly lost consciousness. He lay there sputtering and coughing as Luca gave a breathless decree.

  “You want him alive,” he said, eyeing Alessandro and Gabriel, “keep him out of my sight for the foreseeable future.”

  Still huffing and puffing, Luca pivoted toward me. The scuffle had left him disheveled, his suit jacket wrinkled and the white oxford shirt beneath it torn. His expression set to exceptionally pissed, I flinched when he seized my hand, but though he’d come close to killing his brother, his hand was gentle as it grasped mine.

  He pulled me to my feet and together we whirled out of the dining room. Leaving the other brothers to deal with the repercussions.

  An hour later, Luca and I sat peering out at the city skyline in silence. He’d taken me to the rear of the mansion to a whopping balcony on the third floor that stretched half the length of the building. In the distance I could see the glimmering waters of the Delaware, as well as the huge roundabout next to the Philadelphia Art Museum.

  I tended to be reckless with my words—sometimes I wondered if I had some sort of ironic death wish—it was like an engrained response. But after what I’d witnessed, even I didn’t have the heart to push Luca’s buttons.

  And it wasn’t because I’d just seen him lose his collective shit, either. It had more to do with the pain behind it. Pain Marco had elicited by mentioning one name. Alana. The woman Luca had loved. The woman I knew must be Anna’s mother.

  Once we arrived on that balcony, Luca stationed himself on the far end, going as still as a statue. I left him to it, sensing his need to be alone, despite him bringing me along. I actually felt glad to be included. He’d allowed me to witness him in some of his worst moments, trusted me, and that must mean something.

  What exactly that was I had no idea.

  12

  Luca

  I stared out at the cityscape, letting my eyes go unfocused. My rage at my brother had mostly subsided, leaving me with questions I had no answers for. While I understood his reservations about Molly—hell, even I couldn’t pinpoint why having her nearby felt so necessary —his way of communicating his feelings on the matter left much to be desired.

  I would’ve thought his run-ins with our father would’ve taught him to have better judgment, but evidently, they hadn’t. Instead, every word out of his mouth had been barbed with malevolent cruelty. Maybe expecting anything else out of a Varasso was shortsighted, though. Each one of us had been guilty of such cruelty, especially my father.

  Especially me.

  When he’d been younger, Marco had been the quiet, obedient son. Of all of us, he’d been the most eager to please. But as an adult, he’d gotten louder. More aggressive. He’d begun to question our father’s decisions and even motives at times.

  And now, he was doing it to me. I might forgive Marco at some point, but it wouldn’t be today. Or anytime soon. Some of what he’d said was true; I couldn’t deny it. But I didn’t want to hear anything negative about the woman I’d loved and lost.

  I couldn’t.

  One thing I could do was feel Molly’s presence out here on the balcony with me. Nevertheless, she didn’t infringe on my privacy. Maybe this was why I kept her around, kept going out of my way to spend time with her. I appreciated how she handled herself. I appreciated her discretion.

  She’d basically been brought into one of the worst situations imaginable, yet she somehow managed to buck expectations. My father’s. Mine. She was like a tree growing off the sheer cliff of a mountain. She shouldn’t be surviving or holding her own, but she was.

  Here was a woman who ostensibly came from nothing, had nothing going for her, yet she was strong as hell. She refused to be cowed, no matter what happened or what my family threw at her. It impressed me.

  She impressed me.

  I admired her spunk and tenaciousness. Her spirit.

  I’d never met anyone like Molly Greene.

  I glanced over at her now where she stood with her back to me. She could’ve used the phone call I’d given her yesterday to try to escape, but she didn’t. She could’ve used the distraction caused by the Bianchi attack to get out, but she hadn’t.

  Yesterday, when I’d believed my daughter had been killed, she’d witnessed a total breakdown from me. I kept waiting to see her look at me with repulsion or disgust in her eyes, but that’s not the emotion I’d received from her.

  Instead, she’d been compassionate. She hadn’t made excuses to get away. Molly had stayed with me, touched me, been willing to comfort me. Even though she didn’t know me from Adam. And what she did know about me was horrifying.

  Her kindness was far more than I deserved.

  Something had burgeoned between us in that moment. A connection. And ever since then, all the numbness I’d been living in had been washed away. The thick barricades I’d been protecting myself with were gone now.

  Which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Not completely. While being around her made me feel better, having access to all my emotions again was problematic. I had less control and reacted more vehemently. As Marco could attest to.

  Yet when I’d noticed Gabriel’s sorrow, I hadn’t been able to ignore it. I’d felt it. I’d severed all emotional ties with my family, but now
those links had been reestablished. The lost connections restored. The genie was out of her bottle, and there was no putting her back.

  Guess I’d just have to deal with it, come what may.

  Over the next month, I began to oversee the full spectrum of the family business as the coolness of autumn morphed into a sleety winter. I’d worked with the myriad pieces many times before, had walked in my father’s footsteps and by his side. But that had all been before Anna’s birth. After that, I’d left the majority of my responsibilities to others.

  And a byproduct of that had been what had happened with the Bianchis. Alessandro had been utilizing his hacking skills to break into the Bianchi’s computer records and surveillance, trying to determine if our father really had been duplicitous in his dealings with them. The paper records they’d provided me with looked damning, but records could be falsified.

  We needed more conclusive proof.

  I met individually with the most important members of our organization, wanting to make direct contact with them and assert my authority. Now was a delicate time. If any of the people we traded with sensed weakness, they could strike out at us or leave our family to join someone else’s.

  Our organization was dependent on all the clockworks rotating correctly. If one spring or gear started spinning in another direction, the clock would come to grinding halt. The time of the Varasso’s success and leadership would be up.

  I began to indoctrinate Molly into the business. I was giving her control over what we termed Corridor B, one of the eight corridors coming out of Mexico and into the United States. She would need to ensure the smooth movement of product across the border. Then, once the drugs arrived, she would then be responsible for their distribution.

  This corridor was the smallest and dealt with the least expensive products: meth and marijuana. It was the best way to get her feet wet before delving in too deeply. I’d explained to her the importance of micromanaging all the players until she got to know and trust them. She would track the delivery electronically as it traveled along Interstates 2, 5, 10 and 40.

  Before putting her in the thick of things, I pulled her aside. “Are you nervous about this?”

  She seemed hyper, almost jittery. “I’m excited. I’ve never had the opportunity to make so much money before.”

  “So you have no issues with doing something illegal?” I pushed.

  “Luca, I’ve shoplifted before. I’ve done other things that weren’t above board. Sticking to the straight and narrow basically left me working for jerks who paid me little more than minimum wage. I’m ready to try it your way for a change.”

  Training her entailed spending all day every day with her. She traveled with me when I went to meet with people, and I then encouraged her to ask questions when we returned home. Sometimes, I brought her along to play with Anna, as well. My daughter’s face brightened every time she saw her, and I took that as a positive omen.

  Molly had been there when Anna started to increase her vocabulary—she could now say “greet” which referred to Greta, “cat” and “shoe.” Molly had also been there when my baby took her first steps from her to me. We’d both cheered my daughter on, applauding and laughing when she accomplished her goal.

  It’d been the best day I’d had in a long time.

  When we weren’t training, I asked her about her family and upbringing. At first, she was reticent, but over time, she began to open up to me. I’d already gathered that her childhood hadn’t been a happy one, but some of the offhanded remarks she made caused my hackles to raise. I knew there was a lot she wasn’t telling me. Bad things.

  I felt so curious about those things. But I also knew better than to press the issue. When she asked to speak to her sister, I let her as long as I could be in the room. She knew she couldn’t tell her sister where she was or what she was doing. Though, I knew at this point, even if she did, there was no way I could hurt or kill her.

  I’d grown to care about her too much. A fact I worked hard to keep hidden from her. I knew all too well that heartbreak ran through the Varasso men’s blood, and I had no wish to reactivate the curse again.

  I’d lost too much as it was.

  13

  Molly

  As I lay in bed after having been with the Varassos for a month, I considered how being with them had changed me. I’d started out resenting what they’d done at Angelo’s behest. I’d detested them for forcibly abducting me. For threatening me, for interrupting my life. For nearly ending my life. Nothing about any of that had been okay.

  Yet living here with them gave me insights I hadn’t expected. About both them and myself.

  These people were members of the mafia and committed heinous acts on a regular basis. They were criminals. But as I already told Luca, I was no angel myself. I’d stolen and shoplifted when I had to. I’d hurt people who’d tried to hurt me. Their activities afforded them a life I had only ever been able to glimpse in my wildest imaginings.

  They had it all. Family ties. Closeness and love. Wealth and comfort. And despite how I’d come to find myself here, I wanted that, too. I wanted what they had.

  While the threat of violence was a constant presence here, I’d faced similar threats. Being homeless and afraid. Prostituting myself. Nearly starving to death. Taking care of my sister when I was nothing more than a teenager myself.

  Surviving all that wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.

  While I adored my sister, she’d rarely spent more than a few minutes with me after getting serious with her boyfriend. Luca allowed me to call her whenever I wanted, but because she kept asking where I was and what I was doing, I started to call less often. I didn’t know how to explain my current situation, and really, I started to realize that I no longer wanted to.

  I’d made my peace with being with the Varassos. While I loved Tara dearly, she’d essentially grown up. She didn’t seem to need me like she once had. She was off living her own life, now. I’d come to the conclusion that going along with this “business opportunity” might help me do the same.

  Things had been going well. I actually found I enjoyed learning about what to do and how to do it. It reminded me of putting a puzzle together, maneuver the right pieces into the right places and a picture began to form. And once the picture formed, profits poured in.

  I also enjoyed being around Luca so often. Despite how hot the flames of his temper could burn—him nearly strangling Marco came to mind—he was remarkably patient when showing me the ropes. He never rushed me or made me feel stupid for asking questions. I thanked him for it one day.

  “You’re a great trainer, you know. I appreciate how easy you’re making this for me,” I said, keeping my voice low. We stood next to Anna’s crib, watching her as she slept. “Is it because you’ve trained so many others?”

  “I haven’t trained anyone before now, at least not like I am you. My father always took on that role.”

  “Then you come by it naturally,” I concluded, but he scoffed, nodding his head toward the seating area in his room. Presumably so we could talk without disturbing his daughter. He pulled the door of her room to and we sat on his overstuffed sofa, looking out the window. It’d begun to snow, the fluffy wet flakes gliding through the air to coat everything in white.

  “Hardly. Angelo Varasso was the most grueling taskmaster ever. You didn’t make mistakes unless you wanted to pay the price.” When I gave him an inquiring glance, he huffed out a laugh devoid of humor. “He had a wicked backhand.”

  “I glad you don’t use those same methods.”

  “He never would have hit you, either. Women are to be loved and respected, not hit.”

  I shook my head at him. Wrapping my head around the Varasso’s odd logic would give anyone a headache. I wondered if all mafia families were like this or just his. “You’ll shoot women for posting a video you don’t like, but you won’t hit them? Is it just me or does that not compute?”

  “I’ll admit that was extreme. You were only on ou
r radar because you mentioned Angelo by name, and your video went viral. Generally speaking, women aren’t targets. But then again, you aren’t like any other woman I’ve ever known.”

  Now I scoffed. “It almost cost me everything. If I screw all this up, I suppose it still could.”

  “Well, I’d rather you not screw it all up then. I’ve grown accustomed to having you around,” he said, the beginnings of a grin playing around his mouth. He might’ve been joking, but the more I thought about it, the less playful I felt. Maybe because I let a minute pass without responding or maybe because my expression gave me away, he cupped my chin. “You realize I’m kidding, right?”

  “Maybe I don’t consider life and death something to kid about.”

  He sat up straighter. “You’re right. It’s not. Let me tell you something. When our father first set us upon you, the plan was to kill you. But once I saw you, I couldn’t let it happen. That’s why I stopped him. Part of it was simply because you were a woman, but part of it was how you showed no fear.”

  “Maybe not on the outside. On the inside, though, I was quaking in my boots.”

  “It was awe-inspiring. You were awe-inspiring. And since I’ve gotten to know you, you’ve only become more amazing. Nothing will happen to you here. I won’t let it.”

  “You may not be able to help it, especially if the Bianchis are involved,” I told him, and his features turned grim.

  “The Bianchis will never step foot on our property again. I’ve made sure of it,” he promised. I took a deep breath and shivered, feeling a chill. “Are you cold?”

  “A little.”

  He took a hold of my hand and positioned me so that my back was to his chest. I laid against him, letting his warmth soothe me. Soon, I quit shivering.

  With a finger, he touched my chin, tilting it upwards. His face was so close to mine I shivered again. “Still cold?” he asked, and I threaded my hands into his hair.