Page 135 of King Of Order

‘He never let them fuck me. No, I was to remain a virgin at all times. But he permitted them to do most anything else on me.’

Rio’s chest heaved, his limbs trembled, and his fists clenched so tight I saw the veins on his forearms enlarge before me.

A tic developed in his jaw, and his nostrils flared.

Still, I plowed on. ‘I became an addict because of him. He was my supplier. He had the audacity to hand me a baggie soon after my mother’s funeral, daring me to snort it to handle the pain. I did it to spite him. He didn’t think I would follow through.’

I spat the words in defiance, aware of the periphery of Rio’s harsh intake of breath.

‘He also got my mother onto heroin and used her to make deals and move money for him. She died in prison because of him. That is the reason why I don’t hate you for killing him because he destroyed my mother and my soul long ago. You did what I could not find the balls to do myself.’

Silence fell between them as I took ragged breaths in.

Somehow, I found the strength in me to continue. ‘Our shitshow didn’t start in my teens. It began when I was just a little girl. By eight, I helping stash rifles and drugs in our basement. By ten years of age, I counted the cash while Claudio and Aldo, eight and six, respectively, were drug-running with the Tirone dealers to distribute. I got warned on an almost daily basis that if the police wanted to talk to me on the street, I was not to say a single word. Except to ask for my dad or our Uncle Pepe, his lawyer, who’d handle it.’

‘Did the cops ever come for you?’

‘A couple of times when they searched my father’s properties, they found us. One time, they took Claudio and me in. However, thecarabinieriwho brought me in paid for it with the lives a few months later.’

‘Fotto!’ Rio growled, gritting his teeth.

‘As I was about to start high school, father dispatched us to England. My brothers and I got on a private plane and weresent to Brighton College, a co-educational boarding school in Brighton and Hove, England, UK.’

‘Which explains your excellent English,’ Rio murmured.

‘Si,’ I shrugged. ‘When I questioned why we’d been stashed away, Olivio told me a bullshit story about our house needing a major renovation. As it turned out, a rival gang had robbed one of our warehouses, shooting and wounding a guard in the process, leading to a mob war. I liked school because it was peaceful, away from all the madness in my father’s domain. But every holiday back in Naples was a shitshow, always at Olivio’s mercy. ’

‘Impossibile,’ Rio groused. ‘No children should live like this. It’s not the Mafia way.’

I shook my head. ‘It’s not the Calibrese way or the way of the more genteel families in the crime world. Remember, we Tirones are scum, bottom feeders, a world removed from the standards you grew up with.’

Rio exhaled through his nose. ‘Still doesn’t make it fucking acceptable.’

‘I didn’t know any different. I didn’t have friends, neither would they come and play with me. No one was allowed to know where I lived. We were always afraid that my father was a target as a result of his mob deals and also his loan shark business. People were always looking to rob or dismember him. When I got older, I realized how fucked up our world was and how scared I was living in it. At 17, I asked Olivio for a bodyguard. What freaked me out was he stood back for a second and contemplated the idea before saying, ‘No, you should be OK.’ My guess is we didn’t have the money for one. My dad and uncle shared one, a massive guy with one eye. What I remember the most was the constant fear. Anxiety that my father or brothers would be killed or put in prison. Dread that I’d be kidnapped. Terror for my life after my mother died. It drove me to takemore drugs until I had a reputation for being Naples’ foremost desperate junkie.’

‘What made you quit?’

I took a deep inhale and braced.

‘A young man, someone I saved one night.’

‘Dimmi,’ he pushed.

‘It was one night when I was needy for a hit. I had no money, so I went to my father’s office to beg for it. I found him in the middle of a beatdown of some guy. The man was injured and bleeding hard, tied up in a chair.’

At my words, Rio jolted.

His face hardened, eyes iced over.

He knifed from the bed and crossed his arms over his bare, muscled chest, heaving.

‘What is it? Rio?Cos’hai?’ I asked, kneeling and reaching to touch his arm.

This time, he was the one who flinched and pulled away.

‘Keep going, tell me everything,’ he growled, eyes flicking to me.

The despair within, the emotion threw me.

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