MOAN: The Cantonneli Mafia

by Sophia Gray

  Chapter 12

  Antonio

  I couldn’t sleep that night. I kept pacing around in my apartment, head in my hands, wondering what the fuck I’d done. I knew it was a bad idea to hit Alexander Rex – but I didn’t believe Melinda when she’d insisted he wouldn’t have hurt her too badly. That man was nothing but a creep and a predator, and I was willing to bet he’d do just about anything to Melinda if he had the chance.

  I’d seen the way he looked at her – he was no better than a lion hunting a wounded gazelle to torment. Alexander looked like he didn’t just want to make Melinda unhappy. He wanted to toy with her just to frighten her.

  I couldn’t think about why that made me so angry. It was too painful to think I was developing feelings for her. She was completely off limits. I told myself it didn’t matter that I’d had the hottest sex of my life with her in the back of my car. It didn’t matter that for days afterwards, the musky scent of her pussy filled the backseat and made my cock achingly hard. It didn’t matter that she was turning out to be one of the most interesting and beautiful people I’d ever met.

  Before I’d started talking to Melinda, I’d assumed she’d be like all the other Italian-American crime family girls: spoiled, bratty, and stupid. But Melinda wasn’t; at least, she was marginally better. She wanted things for herself. She wanted an education. She wanted to break the mold she’d been born into.

  But it didn’t matter, because I knew I’d never be able to help her achieve any of those goals. I was a mere grunt man, a bodyguard. That was my role, and I wouldn’t be able to surpass it. Besides, I could never make someone like Melinda Cantonneli happy for more than a few minutes at a time. She was used to opulence and splendor – I considered buying tissues and toilet paper a luxury. Her father’s house looked like a set from a soap opera, and my apartment was barely livable.

  When my phone rang, I grabbed it immediately, thinking it was Melinda.

  “Hey,” I said. “You feel like going out tonight? Hungry? Want me to bring chicken nuggets?”

  There was a long pause.

  “Antonio,” Rodrigo said in a deep growl. “Come over here. Right now.”

  He hung up before I could ask what it was about. Anxiety shook my nerves, but I knew I had to be tough; I couldn’t let Rodrigo know I was starting to develop feelings for his daughter. This couldn’t be good, though. It wasn’t like Rodrigo to fake someone out. He wasn’t the kind of guy who pretended everything was great and charming until it wasn’t.

  The drive to Rodrigo’s seemed to take forever. The traffic was agonizingly slow, and by the time I arrived, I was a nervous wreck.

  Rodrigo’s housekeeper, Debra, answered the door. “Mr. Rodrigo’s in his office,” she said, keeping her eyes lowered. “He asked that you meet him in there.”

  Great, I thought to myself. I glanced around, soaking in the luxury of Rodrigo’s foyer. If I had to die, at least I was going to die in a beautiful home.

  Rodrigo was sitting at his desk when I walked in. He was looking down at a leather-bound book, making notes with a fountain pen. The sound of the pen nib scratching across the page set me on edge even more. Worse, Rodrigo didn’t even look up as I entered the room.

  “I’m here, Rodrigo,” I said, easing into a chair in front of his desk. “What did you need?”

  Rodrigo slowly looked up at me. His eyes were ice cold. “That’s Don Cantonneli, to you,” he said coldly. “You got that, Antonio?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I said quickly. “I mean, Don Cantonneli.”

  Rodrigo folded his hands on top of the desk and cocked his head to the side. “You mind telling me what happened last night?”

  “I took Melinda and her friend, Cassandra, out to a club. Hurricanes,” I added. “That’s the name.”

  “And then?” Rodrigo raised his eyebrows. “The whole story, Antonio. Don’t leave anything out. I’ll know.”

  I sighed. “They were dancing, and I was watching,” I said. “Cassandra went and got drinks and handed one to Melinda. It was her third drink of the night. She was dancing with Cassandra, not with any of the guys there. Then Alexander Rex grabbed her and tried groping her. Melinda cried out and screamed for him to leave her alone, but he wouldn’t take his hands off of her. When I saw she was actively trying to fight him away, I walked over, grabbed Alexander, and threw him to the ground. Alexander tried to throw a punch, but I grabbed his arm to stop him from hitting me.”

  “And then what?” Rodrigo asked sarcastically. “That’s the most important part, Antonio. What happened next?”

  “I punched Alexander in the stomach,” I said. “He fell to the ground, and he was crying out in pain. He’s fine, though,” I said. “I made sure not to hit him too hard.”

  “Listen,” Rodrigo said. “Something I oughtta mention here. Whenever Alexander tries anything, whatever he tries, you gotta let him do it.”

  “What?” I narrowed my eyes. “Don Cantonneli, you don’t understand, Melinda was trying to push him—“

  “I’m talking, Antonio,” Rodrigo said. “And it doesn’t matter. You are not to interfere with anything Alexander Rex tries to pull with my daughter. You understand?”

  A metallic, unpleasant taste – like iron – seeped into my mouth. “Why not, Don?” I asked quietly. “She obviously doesn’t want anything to do with him.”

  “You are not to interfere,” Rodrigo said. He pulled out a cigar from a small humidor and propped it against his lip as he lit the edges with a butane lighter.

  I frowned. “What if he’s hurting her?”

  “He won’t hurt her.”

  “How do you know?” I knew I was being insolent, that I was on the edge of being fired, but I couldn’t help it. This wasn’t adding up. I didn’t understand what Rodrigo was saying.

  “I just know.”

  “But how can you be sure?” I pressed. “He was acting very aggressively last night, and if I hadn’t stepped in, I think he would have ripped her dress off and had his way with her right then and there.”

  Rodrigo leaned back in his chair and exhaled a plume of blue smoke right in my face. “Melinda is promised to Alexander,” he said, “and Alexander isn’t so dumb that he’d actually attack her. She’s going to be his wife. If Alexander hurts her, that hurts the deal I made with his father.”

  “What?” The word spilled out of my mouth before I could stop it. “Are you serious?”

  Rodrigo nodded.

  My stomach twisted and clenched as I gazed upwards at the ceiling, wondering where Melinda’s bedroom was located in the house. “Does she know?” I asked. “Have you told her yet?”

  Rodrigo took a long pull from his cigar and ashed it in the gold tray on his desk. “Not yet,” he said slowly. “I’ll tell her soon, but I need to finish making plans, first.”

  I was reeling. I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard – that Rodrigo, the man I respected most in the world, was about to marry his daughter to the nastiest pig in all of Wilmington. Alexander was worse than a pig – he was a dangerous, greedy, evil, and sadistic man. My mind was reeling as I tried to think of a way to tell Melinda her fate… and how I could possibly save her.

  “Antonio?” Rodrigo asked as I was getting up to leave.

  “Yes?” My heart was pounding.

  “Don’t say a word to Melinda,” Rodrigo warned.

  “Yes, Don.”

  Chapter 13

  Antonio

  “Antonio?” Rodrigo looked into my face. “Did you hear me? Do you understand?”

  I nodded. When I got to my feet, my legs were weak and my knees felt like jelly. I knew I couldn’t show Rodrigo any hint of what I was feeling – I couldn’t let him see that this news was breaking me apart from the inside out.

  “Yes, Don,” I said again.

  Rodrigo nodded. He puffed on his cigar, then ashed it and coughed. “You leave now,” he said curtly, turning in his leather chair and pulling something out of a desk drawer.

  My heart was thudding as I
rose to my feet. Somehow, after the horrible revelation, I expected Rodrigo’s office to look different – tarnished, somehow. But it looked the same.

  It sounds naïve, but I’d always thought Rodrigo was a good man. Sure, he was the head of the most powerful crime family in Wilmington. But he’d raised a daughter, and he thought of himself as a real family man. As I walked on unsteady legs towards the foyer, I wondered if this had always been the case. I wondered if Rodrigo had groomed Melinda all her life to be a valuable business asset.

  And Alexander. Thinking of Alexander Rex now made me see red. The man was a pig – nothing more than a brute and a lout. He treated women the way he treated tissues. He was like the indolent boy king who took pleasure in the suffering and pain of those around him.

  Thinking of that pig putting his hands on Melinda made me so angry I could barely breathe.

  Debra, Rodrigo’s housekeeper, was dusting a porcelain vase in the foyer. She bustled around contentedly, humming under her breath, seemingly oblivious to the fact that her employer was a monster. When she saw me, she smiled. “Did you have a good talk with Mr. Rodrigo?”

  I sighed. As much as I wanted Melinda to hear the news, I knew I’d have to be careful about how I played my hand. “Yes,” I said stiffly. “Thanks, Debra.”

  She smiled again. “Would you like a drink?”

  “Is Melinda home?”

  “Miss Melinda?” Debra tapped her chin with a manicured fingernail. “I don’t know. Do you want me to check?”

  Inspiration flashed into my mind. I’ll tell her now, I thought. I’ll go up to her room and say I have to tell her something important. We can leave together – I’ll tell her to pack a bag and lie and say she’s going clubbing. Then I can use some of my cash to get a hotel, and we’ll hide out until we know what else to do.

  “I can go,” I said casually, already starting up the stairs.

  Debra clucked her tongue. “No, no,” she said mildly, “Mr. Rodrigo wouldn’t like that.” She smiled widely again. “I go,” she added. “You stay down here.”

  As Debra’s plump figure waddled up the plush staircase, I looked around the foyer. As always, it was perfectly furnished and decorated. Rodrigo – or whomever he’d paid to design – had great taste. I’d always envied the Cantonneli home. But now, it seemed garish and overwrought to me. What the hell was the point of having a beautiful home if you had a black hole for a heart? Sadness washed over me as I realized what was going to happen to Melinda if I couldn’t think of a way to get her out of this mess. She was going to be treated like a servant – no, like a slave – for the rest of her life. Her looks would fade. She wouldn’t smile anymore.

  She definitely wouldn’t call me asking for chicken nuggets and lemonade.

  Debra and Melinda’s voices floated down from the open balcony, but their words were too quiet for me to hear. Finally, a door clicked closed and Debra started making her way down the staircase. She looked as untroubled and carefree as always.

  I wondered if she knew about Melinda.

  “Miss Melinda is home, yes,” Debra said. She was huffing and puffing by the Samuele she reached the marble floor of the foyer. “You want to see her?”

  I sighed, exasperated. “You didn’t ask her that already?”

  Debra narrowed her eyes. “Miss Melinda didn’t look well,” she said. She picked up her feather duster and started working once again on the vase. “You should go home now. I’m sure Mr. Rodrigo wouldn’t want her getting sick or straining herself.”

  Yeah, heaven forbid she be anything less than a perfect toy for Alexander Rex, I thought angrily.

  “Mr. Rodrigo is strict, yes,” Debra continued. “But everything for Miss Melinda’s benefit, you see.” She beamed. “Miss Melinda is such a good girl. Mr. Rodrigo so proud of his daughter.”

  Anger flared inside me. I was tempted to grab the portly housekeeper by her shoulders and shake until those blue eyes rolled back into her head. But instead, I forced a grin. “Yeah,” I said. “Rodrigo’s a real great father, all right.” I hoped Debra couldn’t detect the sarcasm lacing my voice like a date rape drug in a martini. “He really knows how to take care of his daughter.”

  Debra beamed, apparently oblivious to the true meaning of what I’d just said. “Oh, yes, Mr. Rodrigo, he loves Miss Melinda,” Debra said. She nodded then started whistling as she bustled across the floor, dusting merrily.

  Upstairs, I heard pacing footsteps. My heart lurched – I knew it was Melinda, and I desperately wished I could run and tell her everything. But with Debra’s careful eye, I knew I wouldn’t get far.

  “Why don’t you leave now,” Debra suggested. There was a hardened glint to her eye. “Mr. Rodrigo and you are finished, yes?”

  “Uh, yeah,” I said, trying to stall. “Um, yeah, we definitely did. I’m just trying to remember if there’s anything else I need to ask him.”

  “You can always call later,” Debra suggested comfortably. “I go dust in the dining room now.” She glanced towards the door, waiting for me to leave.

  I sighed. “Okay. Thanks, Debra.”

  Debra gave a slight bow. I crossed the foyer, dreading each step that would take me farther away from Melinda. But when my fingers closed around the doorknob, I heard a door upstairs open and close.

  Seconds later, Melinda bounced down the stairs. She looked so gorgeous that for a moment I almost forgot about her horrible fate. Her dark hair was teased into a high bun and she was wearing a tight t-shirt that showed off her ample breasts. Her jean shorts were tight and dug into her crotch. I suppressed a groan, thinking of the way her pussy must be tingling in such conforming clothing.

  “Hey, Antonio,” Melinda said. “I didn’t know you were here!” She bounded across the floor. “Did we schedule something?” She wrinkled her nose.

  “No,” I said. “I just had to meet with your father.”

  Debra was staring attentively at both of us, but thankfully Melinda didn’t seem to notice.

  “Well,” I said, hoping she’d take the hint. “You wanna go out?”

  To my chagrin, Melinda rolled her eyes. “I’m so sick of clubbing,” she groaned. “And I’m starving.”

  “How about dinner?”

  “I don’t think we have anything here.” Melinda peered around Debra’s squat figure into the dark kitchen. “Debra, what are you making tonight?”

  “Meatloaf, Miss Melinda,” Debra said.

  “Ew, gross,” Melinda replied quickly. “Hey, Antonio, you wanna take me out? I want like, a twice baked potato and a big steak. I’m so hungry!”

  “Miss Melinda, that’s not good for your figure,” Debra admonished, wagging a finger in the air.

  Melinda rolled her eyes. She ignored Debra. Turning to me, she said: “I’m just running upstairs to get a jacket, but I’ll be back down in a second, okay?”

  After she’d gone upstairs, it was hard not to smile smugly at Debra. I gave the housekeeper a slight nod then went outside and stood on the front porch.

  There was no denying Rodrigo had a beautiful piece of property. The lawn was an emerald-green expanse of lush scenery. Alexander’s angry tracks hadn’t left a permanent scar on the beauty of the lawn.

  The door opened and then banged shut behind me.

  “Okay!” Melinda chirped. “I’m ready to go.”

  I eyed her. She’d changed into a sweater and a pair of yoga pants with a loose jacket. It was about the most casual I’d ever seen her – hardly any makeup, no bright nail polish. She looked almost like a normal girl.

  “Where to?” I tried to keep my voice even. I knew I had to tell her at dinner – when else would I get the chance? I tried to formulate a plan in my head. After dinner, Melinda and I could come back here, then she could pack and we could leave. I wasn’t sure what excuse she’d give her father – maybe that she’d changed her mind about clubbing after all? But that didn’t matter. The only important thing was getting her away from all of this before it went south.

 
“It doesn’t matter.” Now that we were away from the house, Melinda looked sulky. “I don’t care. Just take me anywhere away from here.”

  I waited until we were in the car before I asked anything.

  “What happened?” I glanced over as I pulled out of Rodrigo’s long driveway. “You okay?”

  Melinda shook her head. Her cheeks were pink and her bottom lip was gnawed to pieces. Her eyes were dark with anger. Now that we were alone, I could practically smell it rolling off of her in heady waves.

  “I hate him,” Melinda proclaimed. “I hate him so fucking much.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed as I pulled onto the highway. “He’s such a jerk. You don’t have to put up with him, you know.”