Page 6 of Useless Love

My body tenses and I stop, my breath shaky. Even I know this family has never cared about legality.

I glance at my father cautiously as my heart rate spikes. Father looks at Uncle Agostini with an icy gaze that makes his answer clear.

“Forgive me,” Uncle Agostini whispers. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

His ill-timed comment lingers in the air, a disruption in the otherwise controlled environment. The mention of marriage cuts through the room like a knife, and I can feel the weight of my father's disapproval.

With haste, I exit the room. Then I turn into the kitchen, ready to give Mother my report. From the moment I learned how to string a sentence together, my clever mother has been using me as her junior spy, ordering me into rooms where Father was conducting business. My father has never suspected a thing as I linger in rooms, gathering information so Mother can use the intel in times of need.

Lowering my voice so only Mother can hear, I say, “Sal Gaudino is coming here in two days. They’re going to make some kind of negotiation.” I deliver the news of Sal Gaudino's impending visit, and Mother nods solemnly.

Mother starts pacing, the bright colors of the kitchen seeming to absorb her tense energy and reflect it back.

“Shit,” she bites out. “Does your father have a plan? Any ideas, what he plans to offer Gaudino?”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure exactly. But your beloved brother-in-law suggested Father could marry me off to a Gaudino.”

Mother stops pacing. She pulls me into a fierce hug. “Never. I won’t let that happen. And your father would never sacrifice you in that way.”

I cling to Mother, inhaling her floral perfume. Stupidly, I believe her.

CHAPTER 3 — GAUDINO

Carmine

The SUV cruises through the streets of New York, the city's pulse vibrating through its veins. The skyline, a mixture of towering skyscrapers and hidden alleys, bears witness to the covert world I navigate. The air inside the vehicle is suffocating, heavy with grief, a reminder of the funeral we just left. My mother sits stoically beside me, sorrow and resilience etched in lines around her eyes and mouth. Carla, my sister, wears the same expression, her eyes glassy and vacant, like she’s wondering if this day is even real.

As we drive, the streets blur into a montage of memories—I keep seeing places my brothers and I used to visit.

Such a fucking awful day. I could barely get through the large funeral service for my brothers by blood and the others by honor. Just an hour ago, I stood there at the gravesite, watching my mother and sister sobbing among all the women from other families. As expected, most of us men did our best not to cry in public. Some elderly men, who will die soon anyway, allowed a few tears to slip. They don’t have to worry about appearing weak.

My old man cried, which I’m sure shocked many, but have I my suspicions why. Many would presume since he has buried three soon previously, he might be numb to this sort of tragedy. Even still, he represents our Gaudino organization—he shouldn’t have shown that weakness.

As the priest wrapped up the service, I walked with my old man. “Never seen you so worked up at one of these,” I whispered. “You’ve been burying my brothers with dry fucking eyes for as long as I can remember.”

With a quick snap of his head, the old man looked me square in the eyes and grunted. “Real loss brings the strongest to their knees.”

Raising my brows, I nodded. “May they all rest in peace.” I walked away from him to join my mother and sister in the car. We drove away toward our townhouse while the old man drove who knows where.

I’m thinking over the old man’s words while Mother interjects my thoughts. She says to Carla, “Peace is the best option we can all hope for.”

Staring at me, Carla responds, “I agree. If Carmine takes revenge, we won’t have anyone left when it’s their turn to retaliate.”

I roll my eyes as my sister. Peace, my fucking ass!

I hope all my brothers are at peace because none will ever be found in this family. Peace is a fool's dream, and my mind will always rebel against the notion of damn peace. I crave retribution, an unquenchable thirst for vengeance that pulses through my veins. The death toll between my family and the Bencivengas is imbalanced; it’s time the scales tip in our favor.

I curl my hands into fists against my thighs. My brothers, now mere memories, demand justice in the form of bloodshed. All I want is to keep killing until I get this rage out of me. I once had six brothers, and now I’m the last one standing. Fucking Bencivengas!

Sure, my father has a few bastard sons spread around New York, but none of them are fit to lead our organization. That was my fucking Grandfather’s dying request, shared with me by my now-dead older brother Stefano: “Don’t let any of those weak bastards lead our family.”

Plus, my mother put in work and has taken too much shit from my father over the years. For me to allow any of his bastard sons to lead the great Gaudino organization would be like spitting in my mother’s face. The only option is for me to lead.

But time is running out. To save this family, I need to fucking get married and release my seed, full of true Gaudino warriors, into a suitable woman. And I need to do it before the week is done.

“Carmine, are you listening?”

I glance at Mother, blood pounding in my ears. Hell no. I can’t hear anything but the screams of our fallen soldiers and the sobs from their families this morning.

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