by Laura Rossi
I’d known what he was, what he did, and I'd known how important he was—how important we were in society.
I am the youngest but I’d had a very clear idea of the world outside those walls, outside of that neighbourhood.
To me, the world is divided into two categories: those who led and those who follow. We’d been the leaders, the strong ones, and I’d been proud of who I was.
I was a fool.
“I’ll make you my queen; I’ll give you everything your heart desires, mia bella Filomena. We can rule the world together, what do you say?”
I’d smiled and nodded. Exactly what I’d wanted, exactly what I’d been looking for: be a queen, be married to someone who could support me and give me a life better than the one I’d already been living.
Respect and power… I’d had my father’s ambitious blood in me.
Alonso had sealed the deal with a kiss—my first kiss out in the open with a real man of honour.
He’d been the right man for me; he’d give me everything and made sure I could walk around and be respected by everyone. At all costs.
What did I tell you? No need to be sorry for me. I’m not innocent. I never was.
Chapter 3
“Volare, oh oh, cantare, oh oh oh. Nel blu dipinto di blu.”
Alonso hadn’t left anything out.
He’d serenaded me under my window the night before our wedding in keeping with tradition, and Alonso had followed the rules of courtship to the letter. And to my father’s approval.
I had been over the moon, happy he was keeping his promises, giving me everything I’d wanted.
The most prestigious wedding gown designed by top fashion designers, the trendiest location for our reception, flowers and diamonds in my hair… Eight hundred guests had been invited between family members, business associates and all the richest, most popular elite of Rome and surrounding areas.
I’d worn a long veil on the day, keeping my eyes low and calm as expected by a respectful virgin, but behind that thick veil I’d hidden my thirst for life. I’d finally been free, moving forward, getting out of my father’s radar and out into the world.
I’d glided down the long central nave of the cathedral, never looking sideways, staring at one man and one man only: Alonso.
My father had gripped my arm a little tighter, but I’d ignored him.
I wasn’t his, not anymore. He was handing me over to Alonso, he was striking a lifetime deal with the De la Crux and I was going to be queen. I’d been ready to rule on my terms—ready to have control over a man that was totally infatuated by me.
“Be happy,” he whispers, kissing me on the cheeks as the chorus sings Hail Mary. We are only a few steps from Alonso when I think my father, the impetuous, iron man that he is, has a moment—a moment of hesitation. His hand holds mine a little longer while I step up the altar, to my king.
Alonso’s eyes dig right through the veil while the priest talks about love and commitment.
“I’m committed to making you the happiest, most satisfied woman in this world,” he whispers leaning a little to the side as the chorus broke into another canto.
“I’m committed to making you the happiest, most satisfied man in this world,” I whisper back, a hint of mischief in my voice.
“Once this is all over, I don’t want to leave the bedroom for a week,” he whispers again, just before the music stops playing and it is all quiet for a moment.
The only sound in my ear had been my heart. It had pounded, my stomach twirling with excitement. I’d wanted to live so badly. I’d wanted to get out of that dress and make him mine, keep him between my legs for as long as he wanted to be there.
The power of a woman lies between her legs.
I’d read it in one of the books my father had forbidden me and my sisters to read, and for that particular reason I had gone out and bought it, ‘The Sexual Education of a Modern Woman’, and hidden it under two wooden tiles in the shed.
My sisters had obeyed; I’d disobeyed with a smile on my lips and had read the whole thing, three times, the last time being a few days before the wedding.
Seduce him and he will let you do whatever you want.
I had been used by all the men I knew: by my father for his business agreements; by Alonso for the same reason and for love and companionship. But I wasn’t going to allow anyone to use me without getting something back—without using them too.
I do.
The words had been set in stone. We were a couple. More importantly, we were a family—two families that had come together—and we’d all got what we wanted.
My father’s affairs had thrived; Alonso had had his back covered and his hands in the construction of The Market, while his men had sold his drugs around town undisturbed.
I’d been kept in the dark—or so they thought—but I’d known everything. Despite leading a quiet, respectful life, I’d known what they were up to and the balance had been perfect.
It had made everyone happy.
Alonso had kept his promises. I was his queen.
I’d had everything I’d wanted: a stylish lifestyle, luxuries, holidays in five-star resorts…
When in Rome, I’d spent my days with my lady friends, shopping in top boutiques in Via Del Corso or having coffee in Piazza Navona, flashing the gorgeous pieces of jewellery my husband had bought for me.
I was a lady—the wife of one of the most powerful gangsters in town and a descendant of a duke.
The institutions couldn’t touch me even if they wanted to: people had respected me like I was a goddess.
I’d been young and superficial; I’d thought that was all that had mattered: to be respected and envied.
For the first year or so everything had been perfect, and I’d never questioned anything: what my husband did late at night, where he went or what sins marked his hands. He did what he’d had to do, I’d told myself.
And he’d kept me busy, very busy, in the bedroom. No matter what time he’d come back at night.
“Mia bella Filomena,” he whispers in my ears in the darkness of the room. “Wake up, mia bella Filomena. Your man is back, back between your legs.”
He would go for my neck and I’d giggle, opening my eyes, a little drowsy.
I was never able to resist him; he’d been such a fine man, my husband. Tall and strong, charismatic and so good with his mouth…
I couldn’t get enough of him. We couldn’t get enough of each other. I think lust and power had got to our heads. We’d done so well, getting richer by the minute. I was his favourite ally, he’d tell me. While he would strike deals at night, I would strike deals in a more refined, composed manner, bonding with the women of other gangsters.
“I married the perfect woman,” he tells me, unbuttoning my nighty, slipping one hand over my breast.
Chapter 4
Money is like a drug. You say you have enough, you tell yourself you can stop anytime, but it’s a lie. If you are used to power and riches, you can’t stop. You’ll want to do anything to keep that status and expand your earnings.
Alonso had been a loose cannon. He’d become so strong, stretching his possessions across the city like a spiderweb. My father had told him more than once to stop pushing boundaries.
“You are making our associates nervous. You need to stop.”
First warning.
Alonso had kept quiet and had taken it with a soft smile on his lips.
He hadn’t been listening—too many possibilities to become richer, to take advantage and exploit the increasing drug trade. Not just cocaine and heroin, but LSD and cannabis.
Alonso had spread his trade with care and mastery. Until he upset other powerful gangsters and my father had to make peace.
He’d made a point of talking to Alonso once and for all; he’d planned to put an end to his little games of power.
“Stop invading their territory. Stop sticking your nose in their business, stealing their space.”
Second warning.
Nobody had been smiling that time. I remember standing in one corner, eyeing both the men of my life as they’d silently stared at one another, neither of them ready to stand down.
“Or?” Alonso glares.
“We’ll start losing our connections, all the power we’ve earned so far,” my father explains.
“Or we win and take everything—everything, Antonio. Broaden your horizons. We could control everything,” Alonso says, his eyes gleaming with every word that comes out of his mouth.
Control everything. Win.
“Breaking the agreements, trying to kick our ‘friends’ out of the trade, will only give us trouble. It will set off a series of events—a war. We don’t want that, Alonso. We don’t. Trust me. We are thriving; business is good. We control Rome, but we need to throw bones to others, too. An unsatisfied person is a dangerous person—a potential enemy. We don’t want enemies.”
My father had spent a long time talking to my husband.
He’d been more experienced.
He’d known what he was doing.
No need to upset anyone.
“Sometimes we need to appreciate what we have and be satisfied with it.”
“And sometimes we need to seize a chance, expand our interests, grow,” Alonso cuts in.
“Not when it means going against our friends. People have trusted and respected me for years.”
“Trust,” Alonso laughs. “They respect you until you are of no use to them, until they find something better. We could do so much more on our own instead of sharing our interests with others.”
“This is how I’ve built my business; this is how it has always been,” my father snaps, his finger pressing against his chest, stressing the word ‘I’.
A king marking his territory, his business, his rules.
Stand down, Alonso.
I watch them both, my eyes darting from one to the other .
Stop.
My breathing picks up.
Alonso seems to have listened. He lowers his eyes and I let out a deep breath. He is stepping down; he is going to apologize and my father will forgive him. Things will go back to normal.
But Alonso looks up again—confident, authoritarian—and I see in his stare what I should have seen back then, when I first met him: a born leader, just like my father. But a kingdom can only have one king—one man setting the rules.
“Not good enough for me. I want more,” Alonso’s voice shakes the room.
I look at my father instantly.
He stops pacing the room, his eyes wide.
“Christ, Alonso. You need to stop pushing, you need to stop acting like you are on your own. We are in this together You can’t walk around and do as you please. Things work when there’s a balance; you are destroying that balance I’ve been building for years and for what? For a couple of hundred thousands more a week? We have millions, we have connections everywhere, in every sector, every corner of this damn city. Stop what you are doing or I swear to God I will stop you.” A threat, there it was.
A war.
I shake at the thought, my head moving sideways.
No, no.
A war and I am in the middle.
“I’ll wait for you outside, Filomena,”
Alonso hadn’t bothered to say anything else to my father, not with words anyway, but that look in my husband’s eyes had held a promise.
The conversation hadn’t been over; it was just the beginning.
The beginning of a battle.
One more glare and he’d left the room. I’d stayed for a moment, my attention on my father.
Antonio Del Monte, severe and proud. He hadn’t softened his broad, stiff shoulders when I’d run to him, both hands on his chest, mumbling a plea.
“Don’t fight Alonso, please don’t…”
“I’ve given him everything he wanted. I can’t let him destroy what I’ve built over the years, Filomena.”
He’d been right. My father had only been protecting his interests, but maybe Alonso being younger, he’d seen opportunities where my father hadn’t. Maybe it could have been for the best; maybe some good could have come from his ideas.
“Tell your husband to stop this nonsense, Filomena. And tell him to stop now or you’ll end up a young widow. Not because I will hurt him but because our ‘friends’ will. He doesn’t know what he’s dealing with,” my father tells me holding my hands, reading the worry in my eyes.
Alonso killed, Alonso punished for his delusions of grandeur.
Me alone, dressed in black, losing my husband for not being able to stop him.
I need to stop him.
“You are his wife. Talk some sense into him,” my father tells me before I leave his house that night.
The woman in the middle, that’s who I became. I was the balance, the woman holding together two men with differences.
From that moment on I was used by both. Every time I’d tried to advise Alonso to keep calm and respect my father’s wishes, he’d accuse me of not being a loyal wife.
I’d been shocked to hear him say those words to me. I’d given my husband my body and soul, how could Alonso have even thought that?
“I am loyal and devoted to you.”
“Then help me convince your father that my ideas are right. Help me make him see my point. We could get rid of those that are taking advantage of us, take over their business and double our earnings.”
I tried and all I got was my father talking me into getting Alonso back on track.
I’d been in the middle, and the air had grown thicker and thicker, heavier, every time we’d had a family gathering.
Alonso had ended up out on the streets more and more, while I’d worried at home every night.
Something will happen.
It’s going to happen tonight…
They’d been my thoughts every single day.
I’d been five months pregnant when Alonso had come back home one night, creeping quietly into the bedroom, thinking I was asleep. My eyes had been shut, but I was awake and grateful he’d gotten home safe.
“La mia bella regina.” My beautiful queen, he whispers against my naked shoulder.
I moan and turn to face him, my short summer nightdress slightly pulled up over my thighs.
“Bella, bella, bella.” His voice is deeper now as his hand runs over my leg and up around my knee.
I smile and curl under his chin, eager for his fingers to reach my thigh.
“Ah,” I moan, reaching up to his mouth. “Everything okay?” I have to ask, before he gets his way.
“Tutto perfetto.” Perfect.
I feel him smile in the semi-darkness of the room.
Digging his fingers into my skin, he grabs my thigh and wraps it around his waist, his face diving for my ear first, then my neck and all the way to my shoulder blade.
I smile again, holding him closer, my arms around his neck.
After months, things had seemed smoother, going back to normal. The news of a baby had brought us all together again. I’d been able to see my father letting things drop, seeing how great we were doing, Alonso and I.
We were starting a family of our own, we were focused on becoming parents and I’d felt less impatient, calmer and cautious.
I’d imagined Alonso feeling the same—feeling the responsibility of having a child, setting the example, not risking for our sake. All our sakes.
“It’s kicking,” he says placing a hand over the bump while the other one slowly pulls down my panties.
I bite my lip, my eyes fluttering, brushing my nose against his. “The baby is getting stronger,” I tell him, and even though I can’t see his eyes, I know he is looking at me intensely, my body so in tune to his attention. My skin prickles with anticipation.
“And you are getting more and more beautiful. I want you so badly,” he murmurs, slipping his hand between my legs.
The panties are gone, lost somewhere between the sheets.
My husband is home and wan
ts to make love to me.
I beam at the thought.
“How badly?” I tease and lick his lower lips slowly.
“Bad girl.” He smiles, pulling my hair a little so I can tilt my head back and he can get a better look at me—at my full breasts, exposed by the light, see-through nightgown. “So badly, I’d do things to you, wild things, if only I could get my way with you…” his voice drifts.
I bite my lip again, excited.
Alonso’s interest in me had always been high, but when I was expecting, he’d seen me like a goddess, even when I’d seen myself as a bloated, crankier version of myself. He’d seen me as pure and nothing turned my husband on more than an innocent young lady.
“Promises, promises,” I tease, releasing his belt, taking out his shirt. I unbutton it fast and dip my hands in his boxers. Hard, hot and ready, just the way I like him.
“Are you sure?” He runs his hand up and down my thigh again, the other one touching my chin.
When have I ever said no? Of course I am sure.
I look at him, confused for a moment, then smile, taking his hardness and guiding it closer to my core.
Making it clear.
After months of tensions and incomprehension, I’d felt close to my husband again. We’d been smoothing out our issues, and I had him exactly where I’d wanted him.
“Fuck,” he moans against my shoulder, sliding in and out of me.
He groans at every thrust, hungry for more.
We’d been young and foolishly infatuated. When we were in the bedroom, we were at our best.