Page 3 of The Vatican
Francisco~
Cira was driving me fucking crazy.
Absolutely. Crazy.
If I didn’t think it’d upset Mom so much, I’d put a pillow over that girl’s face and put us all out of our misery. The girl wanted my job so badly, it’s a wonder she hasn’t smotheredmewith a fucking pillow by now.
I loved my sister.
Hand-to-God, I did.
Cira was…Cira. There wasn’t anyone else around like her. But she was fucking nuts. Sure, Uncle Ciro’s girls were bloodthirsty hooligans, but even as the brutal little mercenaries that they were, they still knew their fucking place. Yeah, this wasn’t early America, and women have come a long fucking way, but it was still a man’s world. Even when America elected its first female president ten years ago, it was still a man’s world. And it will always be a man’s world, because at the end of it all, women were not designed to protect men. It was our job to protect women, and as long as we were born, bred, and raised to knowourplace, this was going to be a man’s world because men were the protectors. Men were warriors. Men were the hunters and the providers. A woman could be smarter than I was. She could make more money than I did. She could not, however, take a bullet for me.
My father would fucking kill me.
And then leave what’s left of me to Uncle Phoenix and Uncle Ciro.
And because Dad had a spare in both my younger brothers, Angelo and Emilio, he wouldn’t bat an eye. Sure, Mom might mourn me, but Mom was tough. If Dad, Uncle Phoenix, and Uncle Ciro murdered me, she’d conclude that I probably deserved it.
I was the Benetti Family heir. My family was Mafia and we ruled Morgan City. In a few years, I was to take my place as the Benetti Underboss, but until then, I was learning everything from the ground up. My father ruled with an iron fist, and he didnotcut his sons any slack.
Hell, none of The Holy Trinity did.
That’s what Morgan City referred to my father, Uncle Phoenix, and Uncle Ciro as. My dad, Luca Benetti, was called The Father, for obvious reasons. Uncle Ciro was called The Son because he’s always been my dad’s right-hand man and was the Benetti’s number one enforcer. And Uncle Phoenix was called The Holy Ghost because he killed unseen and was the Benetti’s number one hitman.
The Unholy Trinity was more like it.
And Aunt Frankie was called Church. She was Uncle Ciro’s sister, Uncle Phoenix’s wife, and my dad’s best friend. Aunt Frankie was special. Not that my mom or Aunt Robbie weren’t, but Aunt Frankie had twenty years of history, love, and connection with them that Mom and Aunt Robbie just didn’t have.
But that was another thing about the Benetti Organization. Mistreatment of women was a no-no. My father didn’t tolerate that shit. Even Uncle Sal treated his wife like a prize, and he was a shifty sonofabitch. Uncle Leo was a good guy, so it was a given his wife would be treated well. But all Benetti men, from the associates to my dad, were expected to treat their women well. If not, Dad would pay you a visit, and no one wanted Dad paying them a visit.
And that was another reason I hadn’t smothered my sister with a pillow. She was a girl, and we just didn’t smother them in their sleep. It wasn’t the thing to do.
Cira was convinced she should be the next Benetti Underboss because we spoiled the shit out of her when she was younger, and she didn’t like being put in her place. We were also only eleven months apart, so she ignored the whole firstborn thing, claiming we were practically the same age.
We weren’t, though.
Luckily, for us guys, we outnumbered the girls or else Cira probably could lead a revolt. I wasn’t worried about Cira, per se, but Uncle Ciro’s girls really were vicious little heathens. They were stunning chaos you never saw coming. They had all inherited their Dad’s and Aunt Frankie’s yellow eyes and if you lined them up, they could render you stupid with their gazes. It was almost like a superpower. Massimo, their baby brother, ended up with their mother’s brown eyes, but they weren’t any less dangerous. The kid was a smart motherfucker, and I was glad he was on our side.
Uncle Phoenix and Aunt Frankie’s boys, Vincent and Dante, were also super smart. And while Vincent was the oldest of us all, Dante had a touch of psychopath to him that, again, was another strike in the plus column for us if the girls ever really did band together to take over.
Uncle Sal’s and Uncle Leo’s boys were also tough motherfuckers, so that worked in our favor, too. Uncle Sal had three sons, and Uncle Leo had two sons and one daughter. We clearly had the numbers, but I wouldn’t put anything past my sister.
Of course, if they ever did cry mutiny, it wouldn’t be Cira at the helm of their little rebellion.
No.
It’d be Saveria Fiore leading the troops.
LucaSaveria Fiore, better known to her friends and family as Ria.
Luca Saveria Fiore who, if her mom was the Church, Ria was the motherfucking Vatican in my father’s eyes. My dad absolutely adored that girl, and if anyone could push me out to take over, it’d be her. Ria was immersed in the Benetti Organization just as deeply as I was. Her in-depth knowledge of all things Benetti was probably the only reason she kept refusing to join forces with Cira. Ria knew it couldn’t be done.
But even as capable as Ria was, she wasn’t a threat. She’d never be a threat. She was, however, constantly underestimated by the masses.
See, Ria was beyond stunning. She was only about five-foot-two-inches, but she packed more curves than a roller coaster. Her hair was a dark brown that fell to her shoulders, but instead of inheriting her mom and uncle’s yellow eyes, Ria ended up with an odd combination of Aunt Frankie’s yellow eyes and Uncle Phoenix’s hazel ones. The dark, thick lashes that encased them made them pop like a hypnotizing prism of color.
Ria’s facial features were that of her mother’s, but she had snatched her father’s dimples in combination with her mother’s pretty face. When she smiled, her face would light up and you just. Couldn’t. Help. But. Stare.
