by Anna Widzisz
"It's mafia, Savannah. A dark, cruel world brimming with people whom you should never trust. I don't trust Elio just as much as you shouldn't trust him. But here you are, stupidly giving him everything. For someone who has little Aiden to worry about, you sure as hell don't think about the danger Elio's brought to your life. Which can increase at any moment."
He was right.
Yet she couldn't make herself believe those words.
Because she didn't fucking want to.
It was her life. Her decision.
Good. Bad.
She was still to roll the dice and hope for the best.
* * *
§ § §
* * *
For a moment they just stared at each other. What was done was done. The only consolation was that Noah didn't seem to give a shit about Savannah. No matter questionable the Capo’s morals were, as soon as he’d heard about her brother he’d immediately lost interest in the whole situation. Undoubtedly, it had to do with his younger sister and the unthinkable fate she’d had. When kids came into play, Noah's main focus shifted to anything other than that. It was his only acknowledgement of respect towards those who took responsibility.
That was the reason why Elio took a chance on the Capo in the first place.
However, right now because of the subtle hint the situation with the Russians escalating and the need for backing, Elio had put himself in a rather complicated position. He didn't have anything bad on his mind but realized that for someone who couldn’t afford further betrayal in the Famiglia, Noah had to be careful who he trusted.
They both came from a place of harsh upbringing, always having to prove themselves, stay relevant and cruel. No one was safe. Ever.
Noah put his gun back into his holster, showing that he was not threatened by his soldier. That he could take him down without so much as a weapon. Come on top. Because he was holding Elio and Savannah's future in his hands.
"I told you to choose your battles wisely."
He had. After the meeting in the club.
This battle was with Father rather than the Capo. No rules had been broken yet. Even when counting Savannah witnessing a murder. Mafia sometimes did that to shut people up. Rarely, but still. People feared what they could see. Rumors made them uneasy but actions terrified them. That was the truth.
Noah smiled darkly, enjoying this situation. He thrived on things like this. It showed him the power he had. Boosting his ego. "I'm not changing any rules. Not for you."
"I know."
"Then why would you even go further into all of this, if you know that nothing will ever change?"
Elio knew the answer all too well. "Because I tried a different way and it didn't work."
"Punishing my soldiers for getting involved with outsiders is not my style. I'd be left with a handful. And you wouldn't come to me if not for your father. He no longer has anything on you. Flavio will make sure that’s the case," he said. "But make no mistake, it's your one and only chance. Threatening me or the Famiglia will bring you destruction. It's the very last time I am hearing you say something like this."
Elio nodded. It went surprisingly smoothly.
"I saw your artwork in the diner," he alluded to the torture and kill. "It was impressive. But I can do much better if you go behind my back. I swear I can make you fucking suffer in ways not even your cruel mind can comprehend."
And there was the Capo dei Capi they all knew. One who said many questionable things that were always true. No one doubted that he would follow through with his threats. Ever.
He was the one to kill half of their Famiglia when he took over. Spread their corpses around the warehouse so they could look. Recognize their family members who were unfaithful to him. Each one was dismembered and covered in blood.
It was dreadful sight. And the thought that just this one person could do such damage made soldiers fall in line in a heartbeat. Because they could see the torture, pain and misery when they looked at the scene.
The Enforcer had no plans to do that. As long as he could ensure Savannah's safety, he would follow the rules. That was all that counted.
Noah put his hands in his pockets and turned around, giving him his back. "Go, you have a race to win," he said, dismissing him. "And remember that on Sunday there's a banquet. I expect all my soldiers to be there. You can bring Savannah."
Chapter Forty
Watching Savannah try to find her place among all those society people was an amusing sight. One glance and anyone could understand that she, firstly, didn't feel comfortable there, secondly, didn't fit in. Probably, if she wasn't there as Elio's partner, girls would pray on her vulnerability. It'd only mean that they were threatened. The thought that an outsider had enough right to walk among them was dangerous. Each of them dreamed of being married to some powerful man. Most of them would likely have arranged marriages, as well. And here came the girl who was more self-reliant than they would ever be. Straight from under their fathers' roof, to their husbands.
Savannah was everything they weren't.
On top of looking absolutely stunning in her crimson floor-length dress with a slit running up to her thigh, showing off her amazing leg. Even though Elio wished it wouldn't be the case, other men stole a few looks her way, too.
She was way too insecure knowing how little it cost her, compared to the dresses all the other girls had. Her flushed red cheeks were an indication of that just as much as the unwillingness to look people in the eye for too long.
This event was the official way of showing that whoever Savannah was, the Capo didn't feel the need to eliminate her or take any actions at all. It was a silent approval. Exactly what the mafia was all about. An understanding without the urgency of speaking out loud.
For their Famiglia, it had always been like this. Ever since they’d come into existence back in Sicily. Many, many years ago when all the people in the room hadn't even been born yet. Men were always aware of what was going on. From being a little boy, there were always hints about what their fathers, uncles, cousins were doing for a living. Girls not so much. Seeing a gun, watching many men dressed in their best suits going into a room for a meeting, them leaving late at night telling that there's nothing to worry about; nothing happened. That's the way it worked.
None of them really knew more than Made Men were willing to share. And girls didn't really know until one of their siblings dropped dead out of nowhere and they attended their funeral. Unable to see them in a casket. Parents lying that it was just not to frighten them. The truth was - them being dismembered and only barely put together wasn't a sight to behold. There, during the funeral reception, they could hear hushed voices talking something about Anti-mafia Commission and some list. Because their family name had been put there. And they had no idea what it meant, whatsoever. Not to mention that several Sundays had passed and they couldn't see their uncle or grandfather in church while their wives looked nothing more than ghosts, always answering that they were fine. Because their husbands were nowhere to be found. Dead? Alive and only very far away from the justice grasps? No matter - women were fine.
Always there, always portraying some role. They were aware and invested in the true business as wives and mothers. Or oblivious to the real colors of the men in the family by being daughters and nieces.
The Famiglia had that kind of power, individuality and invisibility. And at the same time, it didn't.
Moving to the States half of the operations made became more public. No woman in their social circles wasn't kept completely in the dark anymore. And each man was on his way to being inducted or already was a Made Man. Everything changed just because of Noah Falcone taking matters into his own hands. He went beyond comprehension with setting the rules, yet kept some of the old ones.
Getting involved in politics? Yes. Taking over businesses and turning parts of them into illegal ventures? Of course. Making war not peace? Hell yes.
Outsiders being introduced to the inside world? Fuck, no.
Times changed, some rules were stretched but never completely forgotten.
So Elio wasn't even thinking of being the first one to get it any other way.
And he didn't want to. He cared about Savannah deeply. Out of nowhere, she’d become a huge part of his life. Changed his outlook on numerous things - relationships being one of them. However, that was all for now. He couldn't imagine losing her but it might be the case at some point.
Just not anytime soon.
And not because of Father's interference.
Taking two glasses of champagne from one of the waitresses’ trays, he handed one to Savannah. She wouldn't take it if not for the nerves. That was obvious. Her shaky fingers closed in on it and she shifted.
"Can I ask you something?" She tried to sway her mind towards something else than the number of stares she was getting from people.
"What is it?"
"Your mom doesn't really fit the picture you painted me. How come?"
That was true. Gabriella Conte was anything but prey at the moment. She held her head up high, smiling and talking to everyone. Dressed in a flashy long gown and with a full face of makeup that added to her her overall power-look. If Elio had said to anyone how he saw his mother, no one would believe him. Not from what they saw.
He cleared his throat, looking around whether no one was listening to them. "Women aren't fragile in the open, Savannah. Hell, most of them are worse than their husbands. I'd bet you a shit lot of money that half of the young girls if asked, would say that they are more afraid of their mothers than fathers. The truth is that behind most powerful men, there are women standing. My mom is just not one of them, even if she tries hard to prove otherwise. The Famiglia is a pretentious act of pretending. Nothing is what it looks like and you have to be careful not to be pulled into thinking otherwise. You don't believe what you see. That's what we are taught from the start."
"Then I'm even more out of place here than I thought," she commented, downing the drink. The bitter taste spread in her mouth, calming her.
Elio regarded her and chuckled. "You are but only because you have much more to offer."
Judging by the eye-roll the girl gifted him with, she didn't take his words seriously.
"You turned eighteen and were put in a situation where you had to take care of a small child on your own, along with earning money to have somewhere to live and food to eat. When they turn eighteen, they exchange golden cages and most don't even understand the value of money. They have more than they need. At least those who are married high. It happens that they become mothers rather quickly after that but it's not as much of a responsibility as you took upon yourself. Their husbands might die or go to jail, yes. But the Famiglia always takes care of their own. Noah always acknowledges the sacrifice in his name and never leaves anyone without proper help. An enormous reverence comes into play. If you give, you will always be rewarded one way or another. It's not just death and danger. It's so much more than that."
Savannah could see that Elio really meant all that. It wasn't said out of duty. He was a Made Man because he wanted to. He was proud to be a part of the Famiglia. And even if she didn't understand it still, she nodded, knowing that there would be no way he’d change his mind.
"Are arranged marriages common?"
"Sì. Sicilians are known for meddling into their children’s lives. However, it's not like we all are bound to it. Most have a choice. Even women. Surprisingly, girls want it. They want their fathers to set them up for an even better life. It’s always about having more."
"I always thought of it more as selling your kids on a parents' whim."
The man shrugged. "In our Famiglia, it's not the case. But it goes without saying that many others are doing it exactly for their own advantages. The Seattle Famiglia has done it before. New York one, too. Noah was involved in it two years ago. He was supposed to marry the daughter of the Seattle Famiglia's Capo."
"What happened?" she asked, curious. She hated the overall concept of Famiglia and how wavering their morals were, but there were certain parts that fascinated her. All the people here surely had many stories to tell, they’d lived through a lot.
Without a doubt.
"I cannot tell you. It's not my place and I don't know all the details. This is really an elephant in the room if I'm being honest."
She wasn't going to push for an answer. It wasn't in her nature and it wasn't her business. If there was one thing she'd learned, that was it.
She looked around for the first time actually taking in the place they were in. It was a huge villa just outside of Las Vegas. All white and marble. High ceiling, double stairs going from both sides of the main hall and meeting at the top. Black detailing of banisters, paintings and vases that cost probably more than anything Savannah had ever owned put together. There was a separate ballroom, two bars brimming with alcohol, high tables where people could drink and talk. And it was all in the rhythm of the orchestra playing on the stage. There were people dancing, however, most were too focused on the conversation. Cleverly clandestine business meetings most likely.
Some people Savannah recognized. There was no overlooking the Falcone brothers, just as she couldn't not see Elio's brother Fabro who kept on glancing at them from time to time. Annoyance visible on his face. His father tried to ignore him completely and she only recognized the mother due to her being glued to Gastone's side. They all made her nervous, however, it was the strangers that kept her on her toes. Not knowing people was worse. She didn't know what to expect.
"Come on. The auction is about to start," Elio said, leading her towards the main hall once again.
Savannah turned her head to him, frowning. "An auction? I thought it was just a simple banquet for people to show off," she whispered for Elio's ears only.
That's what it had seemed to her.
"It is just as much of a banquet as an auction. What better way to show off than bidding millions of dollars for things they don't really need?"
The man took the bidding number plate from a woman whose job was to give out as many of those as possible.
"Are you going to play?"
"Hell no. But it's good to keep up appearances."
Within ten minutes a man dressed in a tuxedo walked up to a small platform with a mic in his hand and a huge smile of his face, revealing all those too white teeth that were almost glowing.
Savannah swallowed a laugh. She stood next to Elio, observing as the first painting was introduced to people. All the information sounded almost absurd. The historical value of some guy from Europe who had hidden it in his underground safe when the Second World War had begun.
Who the hell cared? People should like the painting, not take into account its value and history. At least that was her idea of bidding. And as it turned out - when it was sold to a young woman in her early thirties, for over ten million dollars - only hers.
"It's awful," Elio whispered the exact thoughts Savannah had.
Yes, it was. The colors were completely unmatched and combined together looked like vomit.
"Damn, I could throw up on the canvas, devise some incredibly stupid story of its origin and live happily ever after. Not working two shifts," she murmured, making Elio laugh. "I think I just missed my calling."
"Don't worry," they heard a male voice coming from behind them. Flavio Falcone. "It's the least ridiculous one you're going to see. They always leave the worst ones for the end."
Savannah opened her mouth to say something to him just as a blinding flash like sheet-lightning and a huge ball of varicolored fire belched upward, leaving a series of smoke-rings to float slowly after it.
Chapter Forty-One
Windows shattered. Smoke and fire enveloped everything. Thousands of pieces of glass and steel united in a deadly rainfall showered down. Alarms, shrill and deafening, erupted.
Evacuate.
Stat.
Bratva.
Suspected bomb.
Bomb.
Bom
b.
Bomb.
Those were the words Savannah could hear along with a continued shriek in her ears. She was down on the floor, trying to breathe but after the force of the impact, she was struggling. Her chest felt heavy, her hands were covered in blood as she was surrounded by sharp glass pieces.
Then there were gunshots. On instinct she curled up, holding her throbbing head. The tears incessantly rolled down her cheeks.
She was scared.
She didn't know what was going on.
"Savannah," she heard Elio's voice and felt his hand on her hip. It soothed her fear. Just a little bit. But enough that she decided to open her eyes and look up.
He was kneeling beside her. His eyes searching the area while he was holding two guns in his hands. Then he quickly glanced at her. Pain was written all over his face. He had a few long wounds on his forehead and cheeks and was covered in dust. His hair always perfectly styled was now a disaster. His suit was torn in many places. Yet he couldn't care less.
"Are you alright? Can you get up? Are you hurt?" he asked before standing up and shooting bullets behind her, then going back to his earlier position. "We need to leave."
Savannah nodded. Because of the adrenaline, she couldn't even answer him. She could be terribly hurt for all she knew but didn't feel it. If she looked like Elio, anything was possible.
He motioned for her to grab his upper arm. Immediately, she felt wet liquid flowing through her fingers. Looking up at Elio, she saw blood. Lots and lots of blood.
He was hurt. Badly.
A low hiss escaped his lips but other than that he didn't acknowledge the wound. Carefully he led her towards the exit, maneuvering through many bodies scattered around.
People were dead.
People were hurt.
