Page 25 of Third Degree

“Three clubs, Ricci. I will up the deal to three clubs. You can wash your entire business dealings through them. I will run them without your thugs. She picks her husband.”

“Okay.” Angelo’s eyes turned toward mine again. “You work the clubs for us until my daughter decides to marry or the day she turns thirty.”

“Thirty-one,” I corrected. “She will come home at thirty-one. It is still a proper age to marry.”

“If she isn’t married by thirty-one, I get to pick her husband,” he demanded, and I looked over at Gianna. She nodded.

“Deal,” I told Angelo.

“Fine.” I couldn’t push him anymore. He was growing more irate by the second.

“What will happen when this deal of ours is over then?”

I hated how he talked about his daughter like she was nothing more than a deal. In the same way that I imagined he was married to his wife.

“I don’t know. I’ll finally retire. Do something for myself.” I shrugged.

I finally turned my chest, so I was facing Gianna. It was then I noticed the wetness underneath her eyes. She had been staring at me in awe. A silent “thank you” passed between us.

“I must go.” I got up from the table, and the chair beneath me made a squeaking noise, causing eyes to look toward me. “As always, it has been a pleasure doing business with you. I’ll see to it that the club reports go out to you and Ricardo this weekend.”

With that, I nodded and walked out the door.

The deal was done. She was going back to Chicago. She was leaving, but I gave her something I knew she desperately wanted: her freedom. I left the ornate house behind and glanced back before I left.

And as the door closed, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had also set myself free.

10

Gianna

18 years old

I could not believe what had just happened to me.

I could not believe it. I simply couldnotbelieve it. No fucking way.

No, there must have been something in the water tonight for the whirlwind that my brain felt. Between watching Elio walk into my family’s dining room to the fact that, somehow, he had convinced my dad that I was allowed to go out and live my life. A life of freedom that I so desperately desired. Sure, it had an expiration date, but that was years from now.

Once he exited the dining room, I looked over at my dad, half expecting him to go back on his word, but I knew better. My dad was not a bad guy and certainly was one to keep his promises, especially when related to the family business.

“You’ll come back to Chicago, and we will chart a plan for your… freedom.” His voice sounded strained at the end. “But you’d best believe that if you cannot find yourself a husband and a proper life by the time you turn thirty-one years of age, that is the end of our little deal.”

I quickly shook my head. That was years from now. Of course, I would somehow settle down by then.

“I promise, Papa. Thank you from the depths of my heart.” Desperation tinged my words, for I was willing to beg to ensure this newfound opportunity.

He rose abruptly, abandoning his plate and departing the room, my mother following in his wake, her eyes pleading forgiveness.

I felt sympathy for her, once trapped in the same plight. Now, I, her daughter, would live the life she yearned for so ardently.

As soon as my father left, I hastily excused myself from the presence of my uncle and cousins, sprinting toward the door, searching for Elio’s car. It was nowhere in sight. Undeterred, I dashed to my room, consumed by the burning desire to find him, to express my gratitude. But a mere thanks would never suffice; my debt to him ran far deeper.

This was my life. He gave me the one thing I needed more than anything. He gave me the one thing I craved. He gave me a world to dream a thousand dreams, just as he had promised.

What he gave me was indescribable.

I ran out the back door and practically sprinted down the path, hoping to see any sign of him or Nutella. I didn’t see anyone as I ran toward his house.

---