Page 10 of Nico (Belles & Mobsters 2)

Although she had never been a constant in my life, I couldn’t forsake her, knowing what she had done for me. I loved her, and I knew she loved me. After all, she had given her life for me. I could still remember those few times she’d come to see me, begging her to stay, but I knew she couldn’t. My grandmother’s tears as she walked her out. I rarely talked to Mom anymore. The twins were four now, and she had yet to meet them. After Dad passed away, I knew why. I finally understood.

Greece is nice this time of year.

The skies are blue.

And the seas are stormy.

When I was a little girl, she’d read me books about the ancient Greek Gods. I was so fascinated by it that she taught me a phrase that would become our own code. She drilled it into me. If she ever told meGreece is nice this time of year, it meant I had to scream and run so bad men couldn’t get me. As I got older, it became something different. It meant I had to run and hide.

My mother was even now protecting me and my daughters.

Both Grandma and Mom were right though. Benito King wasn’t a man to bring children around. My family protected me; it was time I learned how to protect my girls.

The image of Nico Morrelli in his pristine dark suit flashed in my mind. I took a measured breath, hoping to calm myself. He didn’t know me. He couldn’t know. If he did, I’d be dead already. It had been three weeks since that dreadful day. For a whole week afterwards, I panicked every time I saw an unfamiliar vehicle in our neighborhood. I kept waiting for something to happen, but as the time went on and nothing happened, I grew more relaxed. Maybe I had nothing to worry about from that front.

A loud squeal from my girls had my eyes searching for them.

“Arianna, Hannah,” I called out to them. “Come off the beach.”

I knew my girls and they tested me, pushing their luck, trying to get closer to the water. I didn’t want them to get wet. Today was exceptionally chilly, although it was early October.

Shit, we won’t be here to enjoy the beach next summer, or to see snowfall over the bay this winter.Why did I find it so upsetting?

The thought of uprooting them made me sad. But the fact of the matter was that we were bound to be uprooted regardless if I could afford the mortgage or not. Benito King might never find out I was his daughter, but he’d come to collect on one last generation of debt the Catalano family owed him.

It was my grandfather, an American Italian man that had no connections to the mafia, that made the arrangement. Talk about irony! My grandmother left her life in Italy to escape the mafia, married a normal guy that had an unfortunate gambling habit, and she was right back in the same world. Grandfather lost a significant sum in Casino Royale. Luckily for Grandpa, and unluckily for the women of my family, Benito offered him a way out through a Belles arrangement. Three generations of belles, every other generation, starting with Grandpa’s sister. I was supposed to be the next one, but my mother traded herself for me. One of my girls would be the last payment.

There is no divorce in the mafia, Bianca.My grandmother’s voice was clear as day.Your mother was promised in the Belles and Mobsters arrangement. Benito King wanted her for himself. He was already married, so he made her his whore.

Except, my grandmother lied. I was promised in the Belles and Mobsters arrangement. My mother traded her place for me, leveraging Benito’s blind desire for her.

One more generation was owed to that arrangement that my great-grandfather foolishly agreed to. Mother took my place. Could I somehow take my daughters’ place if everything else fails?

Three lost lives for one man’s gambling debt. It seemed fucking unfair to me. My mother has been Benito’s prisoner longer than a free woman. Grandpa’s sister was who the fuck knew where. Nobody ever heard from her after she was sold. Though Grandma heard a rumor she married a Russian mobster, Ivan Petrov.

No matter what, Bianca, our kids will have a happy childhood. We have the best location for our little family.I could almost hear William’s voice, carrying in the breeze.

Everything was slowly crumbling down. God, I missed him. I missed his comfort, his gentle arms around me. Even those times when he made me furious with his reckless actions. What would he have said if he knew all this? He didn’t want to have children; the twins happened from a ripped condom. I never regretted it because they made me so happy.

My only regret was after learning who I was and what having a daughter meant. My mother and grandmother should have warned me. Instead, they left me to believe we were safe. We were never safe. Our livelihood was hanging by a thread all along.

After Dad died, I struggled with his loss and even more with the revelation that came with that. I never saw it coming. William and I grew apart while I tried to come to terms with the truths I learned. Except I couldn’t tell him; I just couldn’t. Maybe it was shame or fear, and I didn’t want him to feel the same terror I felt. That one day someone would come and take my girls, make them go through the same suffering as my mother. It didn’t matter that only one was owed to them. It was impossible for a mother to choose.

Then Willian got sick, and my heart broke as I watched him wither away in front of my eyes. Even with all doctors telling us there was no hope, I still hoped for a miracle, but it never came. The doctors were right. God, I hated when doctors were right.

So I never told him. Why send him off into death with such a horrible revelation and burden? Instead, I held his hand and assured him we’d be alright, that it was okay to let go. He didn’t have to worry about us because I’d take care of us.

And I would. I just had to figure it all out. There I went again with my hope. You’d think I’d learn my lesson.

My cell phone rang in my cup holder. I didn’t even bother glancing down. I just couldn’t talk to people anymore. I couldn’t pretend so I avoided them. Besides in the last few weeks only people that called me regularly were bill collectors. There was no point answering those anymore. I was way past the point of trying to make it work. I wasn’t even drowning anymore. I had sunk.

The ringing finally stopped, and I exhaled in relief. No sooner did I do that, the phone rang again, and again, and again until I finally picked up the cell phone gazing at the caller ID.

I frowned. It was Angie. She called me after I left so abruptly that day. I didn’t answer, and she left a voicemail to call her back. I never did. It was unusual for her to call repeatedly. Hopefully she wasn’t in trouble.

I answered the phone with a slight dread in my stomach. It felt like a premonition warning me that shit was about to hit the fan.

Stop it, Bianca.I cursed myself for feeding my anxiety.

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