Mafia, Take Me Home

Chapter 5–Respect

[Vanessa]

This cannot be happening. Never. I won’t allow it.

“What do you mean cousin has taken a mistress?” My voice rises in outrage as I repeat her words slowly into the phone. “Are you certain, Isabella?”

“Si, Signorina,” The family’s chief of staff murmured into the phone. “Signore Blasi told us to treat her as la padrona.”

My heart stops. La padrona is a title only given to the wife or future wife of the heir. It means she is in control of the estate, that others need to bow to her and kiss her ring as if she were Lucas himself. Before he granted her that title, she should have been presented before our patriarch, our grandfather, Giovanni Blasi. Without grandfather’s blessing, her title means nothing.

“Who is she?” my face burns with anger. “Is she a part of la famiglia? Is she from one of the five families?”

“No, she is not one of us,” Isabella’s Sicilian drawl swirls the edges of her words as she describes this new “padrona” . “She is just a girl from the street. She doesn’t even have manners. All she ever does is eat in her room and cries. It is pathetic,” Isabella criticizes Lucas’s mistress with the shrewd eye of a matchmaking mother. I almost remind her that it is never okay to judge your betters, but listening to her recount the last few days at Casa Blasi, calling this new girl a “better” would be a stretch.

Besides, respect should be earned.

“She doesn’t know how to be a padrona,” Isabella concludes, “She is unfit. She is no Signorina Andretti.”

What is Lucas thinking? He could wreck everything with this fling.

“Thank you for calling, Isabella. I appreciate your loyalty. You did the right thing and I will ensure grandfather rewards you well,” my smile is painfully stretched as I clench the phone tight enough to make my fingertips white. Exhaling slowly, I force my tone to remain calm and my breathing even as I dismiss her. “Please keep me informed of any changes. I’ll be home before sunset.”

“Si Signorina,” Isabella hangs up and I throw my phone into the small pocket of my oversized Prada bag. I was already on my way home for Grandfather’s 70th Birthday celebration, but now instead of resting at my apartment uptown, it looks like I’ll be taking up space in the villa for the sake of damage control.

When word gets out that he’s let a family-less nobody rule the household he will bring shame and disgrace to the Blasi name. Especially since he is all but engaged to the Andretti family heiress, Sofia.

Sofia Andretti has been Lucas’ intended bride since he was declared the Blasi heir. The Andretti family is one of the most powerful mafia clans in the tri-state area, second only to our Blasi clan and one of our biggest competitors in business. We need to merge our families for success and peace.

If anyone marries into my family and takes his side to rule our families, it will be Sofia. Anything else would lack honor and make our family lose face with the other families, especially since our grandfather agreed to the pact years ago. We would look indecisive and weak, and we cannot afford to look weak, especially not now with a war brewing along our borders.

“COUSIN!” I scream as I rush into the door of the villa, throwing my bags onto the floor. “WHERE ARE YOU? I’M HOME!”

[Amelia]

It has been two weeks since Lucas swept in and saved me. Two weeks of being mostly alone in an oversized villa with servants watching everything I do as if afraid I might run off with the silverware.

“I don’t even want to be here,” I want to scream every time a maid gives me the side eye. I don’t mean to intrude on their life, I would go home if I could. I never asked for any of this. Why can’t they understand that?

“I’m sorry, Amelia,” Lucas had told me that first night when I made my way down from my room and I begged for a chance to return to my apartment. “I can’t let you go back home. It isn’t safe. I stopped those men, but there will be more.”

“Why?” I had demanded, dropping my fork and glaring. “Why the sudden interest in me? I have nothing to do with all this mafia business.”

“Because you know me,” he looked away. “And because I care about what happens to you.”

Those words touched a chord in my heart, catching my breath. Does he care about me?

“But you don’t really know me,” I protested. “And I don’t know you. You lied to me, Lucas Blasi. I’m not sure I can ever trust you again.”

“I get that,” Lucas frowned, his warm brown eyes trembling and sad. “And I realize you probably don’t want to be my friend anymore either,” he pauses waiting for my response.

Frowning, I cross my arms and glare. “I am just a regular girl, Lucas. I had a dream of living a simple life. I just want to go to school and do normal, everyday things. I never wanted to be involved in the mob!”

“Now you have luxury,” he interrupted me, his face red to the tips of his ears. “You will never starve, never want for anything. If you want money, I can give that to you, fine cars and jewels, just ask I will give you your heart's desire. Just tell me what it is.”

“I want my freedom,” I cried to my embarrassment, tears rolling down my cheeks, “I just want to go back to my real life.”

Sighing, he released my hand. “That isn’t possible anymore, Amelia. You’re in the mafia now, like it or not, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I wish you had never been involved in any of this. If I could spare you I would.”

And then he smiled, his eyes bright, as he changed the subject. There is a party, he had told me, happening this weekend to celebrate his grandfather’s 70th birthday. “I want you to meet my family. Yes, we’re mafia but we’re the good kind. You’ll see, being with us isn’t so bad.”

“There’s such a thing as a good mafia?” I asked, thinking of every story and movie I’ve ever seen. “Aren’t mafia bad by definition?”

“My family, our friends, we are different. Yes, sometimes we do things that are above the law, but we do everything with good intentions. We help the poor, we take care of our community. We aren’t a bunch of cold-hearted thugs. Just wait until you meet my grandfather, Giovanni. I just know he’s going to love you as much as I do.”

That was three days ago.

As the maids bring me another rack of dresses, Lucas’ words ring in my mind. “As much as I do,” I repeat softly as my hands touch the delicate silk of a floor-length gown of pale blue.

Even though things have grown easier between us, I’m still angry that he kept his secret from me for so long. Lucas worked his way into my heart one bagel and cup of coffee at a time, and now, despite my best efforts, I can’t let myself stop caring about him either.

Which is the only reason I agreed to come to this party tonight. I’d rather stay alone in my room, but he insists it’s important.

And despite my anger, I don’t want to disappoint him.

“That one suits you, Signorina,” Lucia, my personal maid, nods approvingly at the dress in my hands. It is beaded with clear crystals and comes with a necklace and matching earrings of vintage blue Swarovski. “Molto innocente e bella,” Italian flutters off her tongue like birdsong. “Very innocent, very pretty. Signore Blasi will love it.”

“You don’t think this is a little too formal for meeting his grandfather?” I ask as I hold the dress to my chest and twirl from side to side, admiring myself in the mirror. The pale blue makes my green eyes brighter, bringing out the teal undertones, and my skin looks warm, like honey instead of deathly pale.

She’s right, this dress is perfect.

“Too formal? For meeting Don Blasi,” Lucia laughs, shaking her head. “There is no such thing as too formal. You want to make a good impression. Here,” She pulls out two crystal combs. “I will make sure you shine extra brightly tonight.”

“Grazie Lucia,” my mouth struggles with the foreign words. Lucia has been trying her best to teach me, but I still sound like I’m chewing leather every time I try to speak. “For all of your help.”

“Prego, Padrona. It is my honor to serve.”

A shrill voice makes Lucia and I jump, the fine jewelry in her hands crashing to the floor with a thump. “Dear God!” I shout as I pick up the gown and place it back on the rack, my heart beating rapidly.

“COUSIN! I know you’re home, Lucky!” The woman’s high-pitched voice continues. “We need to have a talk about your w***e, por favore!”

As the unseen woman continues to yell and swear in a mixture of Italian and English, I pull my robe around me tighter as I rush out of my room only half-dressed. A few servants look away as I pass, while others hold their hands in front of their faces to hide their smiles and snickers.

“Padrona,” Lucia begs, placing a gentle hand on my arm. Other than Lucas, she is the only one to show me true kindness since I arrived at the villa.“Just let me take care of this. She isn’t worth your time.”

“Who is she?” I hiss, pausing right before the stairs, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Nessa,” Lucia sneers, her lips curling if tasting something sour. “Il Diavola.”

The female devil.

She must be terrible to earn such a nickname. Maybe Lucia is right, maybe I should leave well enough alone and…

“Oh, who is this?” A tall woman with thick blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a perfect manicure looks me up and down. “The main stairs are for la famiglia only. Servants take the back stairs.”

“I’m not a servant,” I argue as I wrap my arms around my chest a bit more snuggly. “And my name is Amelia, not whore.”

“Same difference,” she rolls her eyes. “Considering how you are dressed, you can’t blame me for being confused. If you’ll excuse me,” she pushes past me, making me almost fall down the stairs, “I need to get ready for the party tonight, Amanda. Have my cousin come find me the next time you see him.”

“He’s not here,” I shout after her. “Maybe you should wait downstairs until…”

“Nonsense!” She chortles. “This is my house, not yours, peasant. I am a Blasi. Everything here belongs to me.”

As she strides down the hall, a bevy of servants follow her, bags in hand, as she directs them to put away her things in the master guest suit.

My bedroom.

Racing up behind her, I barely manage to catch my phone before it slams into the wall.

“ISABELLA!!!” Vanessa’s loud voice pierces my ears as she demands the head of staff clean “her” room of all of my “garbage.”

“Not to be rude,” she smirks, “But you will feel more comfortable downstairs near the kitchen, wouldn’t you agree,” Vanessa bats her eyes. “I’m only thinking of your comfort, Amanda. You don’t mind, do you?”