by Anna Ray
We had a water leak somewhere, and I didn't know how we would get the money to fix the roof.
As carefully curated the house exterior was, we couldn't keep the past, couldn't keep the leaks, locked up. It was impossible to keep a house this size running perfectly without the thousands of dollars a month to spend on staff.
My father was trying, and he was failing. My mother had once been a driving force in our family’s rise to power, but since her death, her memory was a hindrance, the grief we felt from her kiss an anchor, sinking us.
Time had moved on, but my family … my family had not. We were stuck in the past, just like the paint of our mansion, peeling at the corners behind the scenes.
And I couldn't help but feel that my family had been broken long ago, but we were just now seeing our stains. That our home was just a manifestation of what had happened with our family, what was happening with our business.
And the grief for my mother was the leak, destroying everything in its path, slowly and surely one drop at a time.
I shook my head, freeing myself of these thoughts, of these images. It had been a long time since my mother had died, and my family had to get over it.
I had to get over it.
My father had to get over it. Or he was going to drag this family into the ground. I had an idea of what this meeting was about, but I wasn't really sure. Not yet, anyway.
I looked in the mirror and touched up my perfectly applied makeup quickly. I always had this desperate need to keep up appearances, to prove that I wasn't the same as the house I lived in, that I wasn't falling to pieces.
And that I was more than just a pretty face.
So, I kept up with my exterior appearances. Appearances were important, especially in our family’s line of work.
Especially in our family business.
Any weakness, any leak in the shingles, would lead to our destruction.
I strolled into our family’s meeting room, and the talking amongst the men stopped. My father, Vito Fiore, looked at me over top of his whiskey glass.
Annoyance burned through me as I watched him. But, my three uncles and three of my brothers were in the room. So, I wouldn't call him on the shit, not yet. Not until we were alone, or until I was with people I could trust.
“Chiara!” My uncle Frankie said, rising to his feet and pulling me into a deep hug. “I missed you,” he said. “It's been a long time.”
“Hey Frankie, how was Sicily?” I asked him, genuinely surprised to see him. Uncle Frankie had been gone for a long time, and I couldn’t help but notice the grey creeping into his slicked back hair. He looked like all of the Fiore brothers. Like my father.
Olive skin, greying hair, wrinkles that shrouded their good Italian roots. And a haunting in their eyes. One that came with years in the life.
“It's good, it's good. You look good, Chiara,” he pushed me back to arm's length, taking a look at me. “You grew, but I suppose that's expected, yeah?”
“It's been a few years, Frankie. I think the last time you saw me I was still a teenager.”
“Barely out of your teens though, aren't you?”
“Frankie has presented us with a new business opportunity,” my father interrupted the reunion from the head of the table. “But he and my other brothers were leaving, weren’t you?”
My uncles Danny and Marco stood, understanding a dismissal from the eldest in the family and the boss.
I hugged each of them as they passed, and waited until the door shut behind them to say anything else.
It was just my father and my brothers left.
Well, most of my brothers.
“Where is Manny?” I asked, walking around to the table to sit at my habitual father's right side.
“Late, as always”, my father said, finishing his glass off his whiskey.
Vinny and Pete exchanged a look. I didn’t want to know what that was about. Tension had been high between my three oldest brothers for some time now.
My father looked old. His hair was a little curlier than the rest of his brothers, but the years had taken their toll. He had a receding hairline, dark brown eyes, and a tongue that could cut like a wip. His skin looked yellow in the rising sunlight, and I knew it had to do with the amount of liquor that he consumed every day.
He’d raised five kids by himself after my mother’s death, never remarrying, never hiring a nanny.
And the years running the family business and running the family had finally taken their toll.
“Cut him some slack,” my little brother Joey said. He was always one to defend Manny, that was sure. He didn’t involve himself in the politics and game-playing my older brothers seemed to as they vied for power. As the youngest, the healthiest, the handsomest, Joey had a way with women. In fact, he had a way with several women, and he’d be paying child support for a considerable amount of time. “He was out running business for you late.”
My father shook his head, clearly stopping my brother from revealing more information. And the annoyance that grew in my chest everyday fired to the surface.
I tried to keep my anger in control, but it was hard. My heart thundered as I thought of the business, as I thought of my family's legacy, and how I wasn't allowed to be involved because I was a girl.
Well, a woman now.
The mafia was a patriarchal mess, and if I wanted to change that, I needed to play my cards carefully. I was in a long game of poker and chess, mixed together with grief and ruin. I wouldn't change my father's mind, not if I snapped. I would actually just make things worse for myself, worse for any other woman who wanted to join the family business.
And I wasn't about to do that. I was going to be the first female leader of the house, no matter what traditions there were. No matter what my uncles thought. We were in the twenty-first century, and I couldn't help but think that our family business would thrive if we just stopped living in the past and started living in the future.
“How’s Bianca?” I asked Pete, my older brother and a carbon copy of my father. Except for the yellowed skin, the age gap and the receding hairline, they could have been twins.
“Ready to burst,” he said with a nod, clearly grateful for the change in subject. “And I think it'll be any day now.”
“Remind me to ask Bianca if she wants to meet up for lunch,” I added cheerfully. “Got to make sure she's comfortable before she is inundated with another one of your poor bastards.”
“The kids aren’t bastards,” Pete said with a laugh. “Pretty sure they're not, anyways. The first one might be,” he shrugged, the joke dancing in his eyes. “But Pete Junior doesn't have to know that.”
My other brother, the second oldest, Vito junior, or Vinny for short, didn't laugh with the rest of us. Seated at my father's left side, he glared at me overtop of his glasses. He looked like a weasel version of my mother.
Thin face. Thin eyes. Thin constitution.
And I was going to jump him and land straight at the top.
My brother didn't like where I sat, he had never liked it. But my father liked me beside him, whispering good business ideas into his ear.
Vinny thought I should be pregnant in the kitchen, or underneath the son of one of the other families, assuring a union between us and the upper echelon of the Chicago underworld.
I didn’t agree with Vinny’s stance, and because I could offer the business something more than he could, he was scared of me.
This wasn't the first family business meeting I had been invited to, but I knew this was one of the more important ones.
And, as much as I love my oldest brother Manny, I could help but be annoyed with his tardiness. Manny was older than Vinny, but we were closer than any of my other siblings, because we had something in common, the two of us.
We were both destined to never run the family.
Manny was adopted. I was a woman.
But both of us had high hopes that we could change our place on the pecking order.
My fathe
r looked at his glass in front of him on the polished oak table.
I looked at the empty drink, and raised my eyebrows.
“I don't need any shit from you, not today,” my father added to me.
“At least pretend to mix it in your coffee,” I said under my breath. “People are starting to notice, the other princesses-”
“I don't care what the other girls of different houses are saying about us,” my father grumbled. My brothers continued talking amongst themselves, but I could see them all perk up and listen to a small argument. “I don't need to know what a bunch of fucking teenage girls think of me.”
“But you’re definitely more than one in,” I snapped. “Before nine. Good for you, Dad.”
I was spared the lecture by Manny walking through the door.
“The meeting started at eight thirty,” my father said as Manny smiled. “It's almost nine.”
I saw Manny stare at Vinny for a quick second, before taking a seat beside Joey. It wasn't lost on any of us that Manny thought he deserved the left hand of my father. That Manny thought that he should be higher in our organization.
I didn't disagree with the sentiment, but traditions in the mafia were kept close to the chest. We were steeped in them, but Manny and I had started to work together. Maybe someday, we could get rid of the old traditions and bring him some new ones.
Some new traditions with some new money.
“I called this family meeting,” my father said, looking at all of his children in front of him, “to discuss a problem we have, and a solution presented.”
All my brothers looked at me, and I couldn't help but roll my shoulders uncomfortably. I also couldn't help but think that they all knew something that I didn't.
And I hated being left in the dark.
“We're out of money,” my father continued. “There's none coming in, not anymore.”
“I can't buy any more product,” Manny said with a shrug. “And most of my guys have gone to the D’Angelo family to get their supply. They can't wait for us, because we're stuck.”
“I know,” my father grumbled. “We can't buy new product, and we’re out of stuff to sell.”.
“So what are we going to do?” I asked. “We're not going down, not ‘cause of this.”
“Your uncle has presented me with a new business opportunity,” my father answered, looking at me. “But it involves you.”
I frowned. I was always eager to help with business, but it was the rest of my family who were usually dismissive, especially my uncles, who thought women had no place in the mob. Then it dawned on me how they wanted me to help.
“We must be really low on funds if you want me to whore myself out.” The anger overflowed, hot and fast. “I'm not going to the brothel, Dad. And I'm fucking disgusted that you would ask me to.”
“Stand down,” Joey warned over his cup of coffee. “And listen to what he has to say, first.”
I bit back the rest of my anger, and forced myself to listen.
“There’s some hot shot tech guy who has connections to one of the old families over in Sicily. He wants to restore his family name or something,” I could tell that he was watching his words, wanting to present an opportunity to me, an opportunity that I wouldn't turn down. “He has a lot of money, Chiara. And he's willing to pay our debts for us.”
“And what do we have to do to earn this charity?”
My brothers around the table looked away from me, refusing to meet my gaze. And the realization of this meeting, why I was here, dawned on me. It wasn't because my business sense was better than my brothers’ combined, it was because I was the only girl in the family.
“You want me to marry him? Is that it? So a classy whore … Thanks, Father.”
It took everything I had not to slam the table with my fist and walked out of the room.
“I wouldn't be presenting this if I I didn't think we needed it,” my father argued. He obviously didn't like the idea either, because he talked softly, allowing me my anger. “But he's offered to pay our debt to all the other families. And help us buy new product. This, in exchange for your hand, a partnership between families, and a bit of interest once we turn a profit.”
“Sounds like I don’t even need to be a part of this.”
“It’s instrumental that you are. He wants you, Chiara. He will go to another family if you decline to marry him.”
“If I marry him. This isn't the first proposal we've had to field, Father. What makes this one different?”
“We need the money,” Vinny chimed in from my father’s left. “Without you doing this, Chiara, there's no way the family business can continue. We're all relying on you to keep this going. For our mother's sake.”
“Oh fuck off,” I snapped. “Don't bring our dead mother into this shit. And to someone buying my hand in marriage.”
My heart thundered as I spoke dangerously on the verge of yelling, and I wanted to punch my brother in the face. There was no disagreement from Joey, Manny and Pete, so I rounded on them. ”Do you all agree with this?”
“I don't,” Manny said. “But it seems we are outvoted, Chiara. The talk of your beauty has travelled far, and this is by far the best offer we have to get out of the mess father put us in.”
“Shut up, Manny,” my father snapped. “You can leave this fuckin’ table if you're going to shit on this family.”
Out of the corner of my eye I caught Vinny and Pete smirking. Of course they’d use this as a chance to start a war with Manny. If they weren’t my brothers, and I wasn’t duty bound to help our family, I’d let them figure this mess out for themselves. But no matter how unworthy and annoying I thought Vinny and Pete were, I wouldn’t leave the family high and dry.
Manny smiled, but he didn't say anything back, and our father glared at him across the table.
“Chiara.” My father stared me in the eyes, looking more desperate than I'd seen him ever in his entire life. “I wouldn't be asking you to do this if I didn't think it was the only way. We can't get any more loans, we can't get any more product without any money. It’s this, or selling the mansion, our home your mother built.”
I took a moment to think of our home, our family business, and everything I wanted in my life. None of it had to do with a husband. In fact, I didn't know if I even wanted to be married.
All I ever wanted was to sit in my father's spot, to surpass my brothers and make a new tradition.
“Fine,” I muttered. “Fine. I'll try it, but there's going to be no promises. If he's an asshole…”
“All I ask is that you meet him, that you give him a chance.”
I nodded, and Manny smiled at me
And I knew what that smile meant.
We get the money, and then maybe I take care of business.
Because my father wasn't the only one in this family who could ‘get rid of a problem’.
2
Luca
The mansion had cracks in its surface, and it didn't take a building inspector to notice. The outside was kept immaculately, but I could tell that there were problems from just sitting in the living room.
I smiled as I thought about it, sitting across from Frankie Fiore. I was going to bring this family down, one brick at a time.
But, by how this mansion looked, I might not have to work very hard. Their destruction would be more than just financially.
“My brother is just presenting my dear niece with the opportunity,” Frankie said awkwardly, for the third time. As if an arranged marriage for a large sum of money wasn't me buying my way into his niece’s pants. Apparently, we were all going to ignore that fact. And we were going to talk about all of this like it was a business opportunity.
Nothing more than that.
I didn't mind buying the fabled Chiara Fiore
Her beauty had reached me all the way in Sicily. I wasn't the only one who had tried for this marriage. Her beauty, mixed with the Fiore clout meant that a joining would be beneficial to really any family.
<
br /> But none of them had access to the funds that I had access to. I knew that this union was going to work, because I knew how desperate old man Vito was.
Desperate enough to allow me into his home.
“It's fine,” I answered, taking a sip of my coffee. “I understand why this would be a difficult conversation for him to have with his daughter.”
I made sure the smile reached my eyes as I said it, trying to keep the warm and handsome demeanour I had built up around my interior. Fiore wouldn't give his only daughter to anyone, despite the money. And I needed to talk to Vito to make sure we understood the agreement.
That he wouldn't get the money until after we said our wedding vows.
I may have been young, but I wasn't born yesterday. And I had built my wealth myself, without need of any family. I tapped my custom Italian leather shoes against the hardwood floor, and tried to keep myself from looking around in interest at this sitting room in the mansion.
With a little money, this place would be amazing. Marble countertops, hardwood floors, wainscoting and crown molding. The old-world money was clearly on display by its elegance.
But I could see a stain on the ceiling, so there was obviously a leak in the roof. Some of the paint was peeling behind the drapery, and I could tell the family used only a fraction of the living space.
My mansion was modern, a new architectural achievement in Chicago. Featured in magazines, for its clean lines, use of glass and the color white, integrated with top-of-the-line technology.
Our lives couldn’t be more different, even though our lives revolved around money. Old world versus new world wealth.
And my new world money was still green.
I wasn’t worthless to the Fiores. In fact, they needed me more than I needed them.
And I knew I could walk away from this agreement anytime I wanted.
I held the power in this mansion, and Frankie looked uncomfortable at the shift. They should have been smarter than to do this initial meeting in their house.
They probably thought the show of wealth would put me on edge, and would give them a greater position during negotiations.