by Hamel, B. B.
I wanted to laugh. His offer was so absurd, and he kept talking about fucking like it was no big deal, but the heat between my legs suggested it was a big deal, an absolutely huge deal. He was gorgeous and rich and powerful, but he didn’t treat me like a piece of trash.
I was used to men like him talking to me like I was a big dog or a fur coat. My father was better, but even he saw me as a burden.
Dean looked at me like a woman.
“I don’t want my uncle to get any of my money,” I said. “He’s going to try.”
Dean nodded slightly and opened a drawer. He took out a stack of paper. The top page was covered in small, dense type, and I couldn’t make out what it said. “I have a contract drawn up,” he said. “A prenup. I can make sure it says in here that Roy gets nothing, not a cent, no matter what.”
“Same with my dad,” I said. “Nothing for him.” I felt a stab of guilt for saying it, but he didn’t deserve my money.
“Okay,” Dean said. “I’ll add that in.” He turned the paper toward me. “You want to read this?”
I hesitated, staring into his blue eyes, not moving. He really was handsome—rugged, actually, cut in a hard way, but still pretty. I didn’t know if I could trust him.
I didn’t know if it mattered.
I had nothing to go back to. I could keep working in that strip club making minimum wage plus shitty tips. Maybe one day I’d earn enough to move out of my dad’s depressing house. Or maybe my dad would end up dead, killed in a mob war, or the drinking might finally catch up with him. My life was a dead end already, and there was nothing to lose.
So I walked forward, snatched a pen from a jumble of them in a Phillies mug, flipped to the end of the contract, and signed it.
Dean laughed softly. “You have to initial each page and—oh, never mind, we’ll hammer that out later.”
I dropped the pen and blinked away my tears.
I just sold myself to a mafia Don. And now I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do. I walked over to the drink tray and poured vodka in a tumbler. I threw it back and savored the horrible, throat-clenching burn.
“You want a minute?” he asked, standing.
“Please,” I said, not looking back at him.
At my future husband.
He left the room. I stood alone in a strange office surrounded by strange things, and realized that my life would never be the same, that I might never walk away from this deal—and if I did, I’d walk away an entirely new person.
I should’ve mourned. But a strange pulse of excitement bubbled up from my stomach and I smiled to myself as I took another drink, and wiped away more tears.
3
Dean
The room was dark and smoky. Hector puffed on a cigar stub and the smoke wafted up toward the ceiling. He was the family’s consigliere, our main lawyer, and a fixer for City Hall.
He was one of the men most loyal to my father. He joined the family back when he was a young man, and he came up through the ranks until he stood toward the top of the family, though apart from everyone. He wasn’t a grunt, a soldier, or a Capo—he did political and legal work only. My father kept him out of the line of fire and Hector always appreciated that.
I planned on doing the same thing, so long as he gave me his support.
Bea sat in the back corner of the room of a red velvet chair. Her hands were folded primly in her lap and she smiled at me then at Hector, and looked the part of the doting housekeeper—but I knew her much better than that.
“Can we trust Roy?” I asked, glancing from Hector to Bea.
Hector answered first. “I think so,” he said. “So long as he gets what he wants.”
“I’ve never known Roy to break his promises,” Bea said. “Your father put a great deal of faith in that man.”
“My father had a particular relationship with him,” I said, drumming my fingers on the desk. “I won’t ever have that.”
“The girl will help,” Hector said.
Bea’s smile turned sour. She didn’t approve of the marriage plan, that much was obvious, but she hadn’t said so yet.
Speaking outright wasn’t Bea’s style. She’d been around my father for many years, since before I was born. The rumors about her were mostly true, though she wasn’t some puppet master making my father dance. She was a trusted advisor, whip-smart and sometimes cruel when needed, but always steadfastly loyal. I knew she’d have my back no matter what.
“Mags doesn’t want to be here,” I said. “I offered her money, but I’m not sure it’s enough to keep her around.”
“There are other ways to buy Roy’s loyalty,” Bea said, which was about as direct as she’d get.
“That’s true,” Hector rumbled. “But this is the method he wanted. How against this marriage are you, Dean?”
I ran a hand through my hair and considered. I was willing to do whatever it took to keep the family together, but I didn’t want to force a girl into marrying me. It was a delicate situation, and I hoped that offering her an absurd amount of money to make this happen would sway her enough to keep her happy, but Mags didn’t strike me as the type to let money dictate everything.
If she didn’t want to be with me, I knew she’d find a way out, money or no money.
Though that still didn’t answer Hector’s question.
Did I want to be with her? Maybe, I didn’t know.
She was beautiful and smart, but there was a fire inside of her, a flame that burned red and hot.
And it made her hate the mafia with a passion.
“I’m willing to give it a chance,” I said finally.
Bea’s disapproving smile made me grimace.
“Then I don’t see the issue,” Hector said, waving the cigar. “The girl’s here, she says she’s willing, so what’s the problem?”
“The problem is Roy,” I said, meeting Bea’s gaze. “Marrying his niece is one thing. But what happens if he starts demanding more?”
Hector grunted and shook his head. “That won’t happen. Roy’s loyal.”
“To your father,” Bea said.
“And my father’s dead,” I said. “I’m the Don now. I’ll give Roy this one concession but if he asks for more—” I stopped myself and let that sink in.
Hector sighed and took a white handkerchief from his pocket. He dabbed at his forehead as he puffed away. “Ugly business,” he grunted. “These successions are always ugly. Seen it a hundred times in the business world. Rich patriarch dies and his children rip themselves to pieces trying to get at the corpse of the company.”
“That won’t happen here,” I said.
Hector stood up with a sigh. “Well, I support you, no matter what,” he said. “As always, I’m at your service. I belong to the Valentino family.”
“Thank you, Hector. Your loyalty won’t be forgotten.”
He chuckled as he headed to the door. “You keep the payments rolling in and I’ll feel duly appreciated.” He laughed as he left, puffing away.
Bea sighed and watched him go. “I’ll have to clean the smell of cigar out of the whole house at this rate,” she said.
I leaned across the desk to try to get a sense of what she was thinking. Bea helped raise me after my mom died, and I looked up to her. She took care of me, and though she’d never replace my mother, I respected and loved her like one anyway.
“What should I do about Mags?” I asked.
Bea looked back at me. “I can’t tell you that,” she said.
“Come on,” I said. “I need your advice.”
She sucked in a breath and slowly let it out. “I’d consider it,” she said.
I rubbed at my face with both hands. “I don’t have time for your noncommittal answers,” I said. “I need guidance.”
Bea slowly stood up and smiled down at me. “Your father married for political reasons. Did you know that?”
I nodded slowly. Everyone knew that story. My mother was the daughter of an old and decrepit mafia family. The Leones we
re slowly dying, and the Valentino family was rising to take their place. When my father married my mother, that created a union of the two families, and the Valentinos absorbed the Leones, creating the powerful juggernaut it was today.
I didn’t know if my parents ever loved each other. My father rarely talked about my mother and I never pressed him for details about their relationship. Every child grows up thinking their parents were in love—
Except for me. I grew up wondering if my father was capable of love at all.
Not that it mattered, really, if my parents cared about each other.
It was naive to think they could’ve had a real relationship. The thought was endlessly depressing though—my mother gave herself to my father in order to tie their two families together, and then she gets killed. She might’ve never known love, and if she did, she had to hide it away and devote herself to a man that she never quite cared about.
I was terrified of that happening to me. I didn’t want to get stuck in a loveless marriage, and I certainly didn’t want to force Mags to go through that.
But I also knew that I needed Roy in order to ensure that the family stayed together through this transition, and if marrying Mags was the way to do it, then I had to at least consider the possibility.
“Do you think my mother was happy?” I asked.
Bea gestured like she didn’t know and smiled sadly. “Your mother was very quiet,” she said. “I didn’t know her well, but she was always kind to me.”
“I’m afraid Mags will end up like her.” I looked down at the desk, at my scarred and callused hands.
“You mean dead?”
I flinched, as if punched in the throat, and nodded. “Dead or worse.”
“You have a lot of control over that, dear,” Bea said and ambled toward the door. “Your father was a good Don. He thought about the family over everything else, including your mother. That made him a powerful man, but it didn’t make him a wonderful husband, and I think your mother suffered for it. I can’t say if that’s what got her killed, though I suspect that if your father paid more attention to her, she never would’ve been put in a dangerous position to begin with. But I’m only saying, you have some control over what happens in your marriage.” She lingered at the door and looked back at me sadly.
“So now you think I should do it?” I asked, smiling, head tilted.
She grinned. “I think you’re going to do whatever you want no matter what I say, so I might as well try to guide you toward the right path.” She waved once and left me alone.
I leaned back in my chair. Cigar smoke still swirled near the ceiling in slow twirling patterns, curling in on itself. I stared at that smoke and wondered if it was like my mind—a spiraling pattern of self-regression, falling down deep, doomed to repeat the past and all the sins of my father.
I wanted to be better than him. I could be better, if I tried.
Only I needed to survive this transition first.
* * *
I found Mags walking the estate grounds. She took long strides, her hands fidgeting with her hair as she stared up at the trees like she’d never seen a forest before. My father built the house on a forest that cost him a small fortune, but I’m glad he did it. Paths wound their way through the untouched land, and wildlife grew in abundance.
Mags looked up as I approached. Her face screwed up in surprise, then fell into her default scowl, not that I could blame her. She was probably having a very nice walk up until I appeared.
“How do you like the grounds so far?” I asked.
“I haven’t gone far,” she said. “How big is this place?”
“Big,” I said. “Seven acres. Although I don’t really know how big an acre is.”
“Me neither,” she said. “I’m from the city. I know how big a block is.”
“It’s like the size of all South Philly,” I said.
She laughed. “Okay, understood, so it’s huge.”
“Pretty much.” I shielded my eyes and pointed into the forest. “There’s a stream down that way. When I was a kid, I used to go fishing in there.”
“Did you ever catch anything?” she asked.
“Once I caught a catfish. Did you know those things have teeth?”
She made a face. “I ate fried catfish once. Didn’t see any teeth.”
“They’re disgusting,” I said. “Interesting, but really gross. Its teeth were grinding the whole time as I took the hook from its mouth and tossed it back in. Radioactive Philly catfish.”
She laughed and started walking. I fell in beside her. “Did you like growing up here?” she asked.
“Sometimes,” I said. “Sometimes it was hard.”
“Your father?” She tilted her head.
“My father,” I said, nodding. “And other reasons. It was lonely. Sometimes the Capos would bring their kids and let them run around, but I didn’t have many friends. My father sent me to private schools and I never really fit in with the other rich children.”
“I almost feel bad for you,” she said, smirking a shade as she walked closer. “Poor little rich boy.”
“I know, it was a rough life.”
She wore tight black jeans and a long gray shirt, and her hair was piled up on her head. She looked gorgeous, though totally out of place. Her big brown boots stomped over sticks and roots, and I got the feeling she barely ever left the city, and this could’ve been one of the first times she ever went for a hike.
“I’ve been thinking about the contract,” she said, staring out ahead as we wandered down the trail.
“I assume you’re having second thoughts,” I said.
“Yes and no.” She chewed on her lip nervously. “I mean, it’s legally binding, right?”
“If we get married,” I said. “It doesn’t mean you’re legally required to walk down the aisle, so don’t think you’re stuck.”
“That’s good, I guess.” She stopped and leaned up against the trunk of a young tree. It bent slightly and swayed as she shook it and the leaves rustled. Nearby squirrels chased each other, leaping from branch to branch, and birds flitted in the dappled sunlight. “If we got married, what would I do?”
“I’m not sure I know what you’re asking.”
“Like, day to day, what would my life be like?”
I sucked in a breath and studied her. “I haven’t thought about it,” I admitted. “There’s a lot you could do.”
“But a lot I couldn’t do.”
She didn’t move as I came closer. “I’m not going to pretend like you’d be free to run around like before,” I said.
“Run around? What kind of girl do you think I am?” Another head tilt and a smile this time. That was the look she gave when she was joking. I liked it—she was cute when she smiled.
And beautiful when she glared.
“You know what I mean. You’ll be in danger as soon as you say I do. I can’t promise you’ll have the same kind of freedom as you did before.”
“I know that,” she said softly. “You want to put me in a pretty cage.”
I reached out suddenly. I didn’t know why, but I touched her arm, then slid it up along her neck toward her face. She sucked in a breath but didn’t pull away as I touched her cheek. Her skin was soft beneath my rough fingers and I wanted to pull her toward me, to kiss her hard and bite her lip and taste her tongue, but I didn’t think she’d let me. If I pushed this moment too hard, she’d run off like a scared deer, and I just might lose her.
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” I said softly. “I want you to understand what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I know what you are,” she said, and reached up to gently move my hand after letting it linger for a few seconds. “I grew up with men like you.”
“Your father,” I said.
She moved away. She didn’t run, but she started walking again. I kept pace, at a distance.
“My father,” she said. “All his friends. Uncle Roy. Their other brothers. My whole family is i
n your little gang. Did you know that?”
“Yes,” I said. Her father was a small-time guy, barely a soldier. Ran a single club for the family, and ran it well, but wasn’t reliable otherwise, and he only had that club because of Roy. “Your family’s been very loyal.”
“Loyal,” she said, making a face as if she were spitting the word on the ground. “God, I hate being loyal. What is it with you men and loyalty?”
“It’s important,” I said. “What kind of world would this be without it?”
“I’m not loyal to people for no reason,” she said. “And yet you mafia guys follow orders like you’re in the military.”
I laughed softly. “There’s a reason we call them soldiers.”
She rolled her eyes. “I mean it. I don’t understand. What is it about the family that you’re all so loyal to?”
I was quiet as we continued walking. That wasn’t something I ever considered.
The family was powerful and connected. As a sprawling crime structure, it was greater than the sum of all its parts. Even though I sat at the top as the Don, I was nothing without my Capos, without my soldiers, and all the related men and women that did business with us.
“The family makes us stronger,” I said. “We’re nothing as individuals. But as the family, we can make things happen.”
“You mean, you can get rich.” She gave me a look, but she was smiling. I liked the way her eyes crinkled, even if she laughed at my expense.
“There’s that, but there’s also protection, and people want to be a part of something. Don’t you want a family?”
She shrugged. “The only family I’ve ever known was my father, and he didn’t do much for me. I tended bar at his club for most of my life and dreamed about running away.”
“Why didn’t you?” I asked. We rounded a bend in the path and the stream appeared ahead, trickling through the forest.