"So, Nina, what is it I don't know?" Massimo leans casually against the kitchen counter. Santo's presence is looming over my shoulder; he's practically standing on top of me. I've got no idea why he's so close; it's not like I could escape even if I was dumb enough to try.
Tommaso and Nico are at the kitchen table. Tommaso had a woman on her knees in front of him when we walked in here, and it blew my mind he did that kind of thing so openly. Massimo told him to take "the whore" elsewhere, Nico looked indifferent, and Santo only had to glare at the poor girl before she was gathering her clothes and leaving quickly, swiping at her smudged makeup.
I was wondering if the Romanos are as crude when it comes to women as my family, and I suppose that answers any questions I had.
"I am not my father's daughter," I begin, taking a deep breath when Massimo's eyes sharpen with interest. "I am a Genovese, yes, but not by blood. My mother cheated on Luciano and had me. They always knew I was different than the rest of them but when he found out the truth, he killed her. I was five. Since that day, I have not lived in that house. Luciano sent me away. He doesn't give a shit about me."
I stare at Massimo, trying to decipher his reaction to my secret. He only licks his lips before asking, "and why did he not kill you with your mother?"
A humorless smile quirks my lips. It's not an unexpected question. "Luciano will go to ridiculous lengths to make other people miserable. The only reason he spared me was because he wanted someone to suffer for my mother's mistakes. I was the obvious choice."
I try not to think of my mother. All that I remember of her is smooth, pale skin and the smell of her perfume. Her soft hand combing through my hair and her favorite nickname for me. Goia. Joy. I remember flashes of how her life was taken from her, but the trauma from that day has dulled into a fuzzy video reel with chunks of footage missing that only plays in my head if I allow it. And I don't. My mother was the one person who loved me. Her loss is a gaping wound that I don't want to poke.
Massimo's unmoved, and I try again. "I'm not the precious gem of the Genovese family. I'm irrelevant to this entire game you're playing. I won't give you the leverage over Luciano you think I will."
Silence. The only noise I'm aware of is Santo's breathing picking up pace behind me. I imagine he's excited to hear that my life has been miserable.
"Where did you grow up?" Massimo asks calmly.
"Luciano sent me to live with my Aunt Edna and Uncle Andrea. A few hours out of Vegas, just close enough for Luciano to keep an eye on me." I push back my emotions about those years. I haven't spoken a word out loud about what went on during that time.
I can't tell what Massimo is thinking and it makes me nervous.
"Luciano won't care," I cry, becoming desperate. "I'm useless. There's no reason to keep me here."
A dangerous glint plays in the Capo's eyes, and I shiver. "On the contrary, Nina, I think you are very useful. I think Luciano will care very much. If what you say is true and he only keeps you around for the pain he can inflict on you, I imagine he won't like the idea of someone else torturing you."
It takes a few moments for his words to settle in, and I can only stare in horror. Massimo doesn't even look at me, just nods to Santo. "Take her downstairs."
I feel warm hands closing around my waist, and I scream. "Put me down! Leave me alone! Fuck you!" I'm yelling, squirming, and Santo's hands are everywhere as he keeps me contained, trailing fire in their wake. It just makes me scream louder.
I'm taken down a few flights to a concrete basement, Santo remaining quiet the entire time despite my yelling. It's much colder down here, and the ground is freezing on my bare feet. I see a cell and start struggling harder.
"Stop moving," Santo suddenly snarls, clamping my arms to my side and pressing me against the bars of the cell. I freeze as the cold metal bites into my cheek, feeling the press of his body behind mine, all hard muscle. My heart quickens at our position as I feel his breath on my neck, and I can't stop myself from squirming and whimpering, trying to push him away.
I feel cold hit my back as he steps away, and I immediately flip around so I'm facing him. He's not manhandling me, for once, and he's got a look on his face I've never seen before.
"I'm not going to do that to you," he growls. "Fucking stop that. Nobody in this house is going to rape you."
I furiously wipe at the tears that escaped. "Oh, that's where you draw the line? You'll maim, torture, and kill but you won't rape? Thank God you have a moral line."
"I prefer for my women to be willing," he says through a smirk, and chills run down my spine. "It's much more fun for me that way. Now, would you like to go in yourself or for me to put you in?"
Asshole.
I'm cowering against the wall when Massimo comes down. The cell has a tiny cot with red stains that I'm trying really hard not to look at. Santo has been standing in front of my cell just staring at me, but I'm too terrified to do anything except curl up in a ball and try to breathe.
So much for being feisty. Fighting back.
Santo approaches his older brother, turning away from me, and I strain to hear their conversation.
"You think Luciano will respond favorably to her torture?"
"Perhaps. I see no point in continuing to wait for him to make a move now that we know what she truly means to him."
"And if she's lying?"
"Then we are torturing the precious Genovese gem. Even better for us."
"Luciano will already be upset because of what I did today."
"He conducted an idiotically planned drug deal in our territory and got several of our men killed. He's been coming closer and closer to crossing me for months. Whatever he gets, he had coming to him, Santo."
"I'm trying to figure out your game, Simo. What are you prepared to ask for in exchange for her?"
"San Francisco. Seattle. Either one."
"He won't give those cities up," Santo's voice becomes that harsh growl that sends tremors down my spine. "Not even for that mistress of his I just bled dry at his fucking fundraiser."
Massimo exhales sharply. "Never thought I'd see the day you back down from torture, Santo. The girl wasn't going to be ours until you brought her here. Now that we have her, I'm not fond of the idea of her going back to her family. Look at her. She's small, weak. Luciano will be angry when that is taken advantage of. She dies, Santo. The question is whether we will benefit from her death or not."
I can't help it. I start hyperventilating. I'm listening to Massimo's unfeeling voice describe my death like he's providing observations about the weather and it's sinking in that I'm about to fucking die.
She's small, weak.
Massimo is right. I've never felt weaker than I do now.
"Additionally," Massimo is saying, "infiltrating one of his fundraisers was your idea. Just because I went along with it, does not mean I approve of your methods. Hai troppa rabia. Hai lasciato che quella donna ti controllasse, anche adesso."
Santo's response fades in and out of my consciousness as my panic builds. "She does not control me. Lei è bella, sì, ma la bellezza così devastante come la sua dovrebbe essere temuta e non abbandonata."
A cry slips past my lips, and Santo turns at the sound.
"I was not talking about that woman," Massimo murmurs.
Santo is still looking at me as he tells Massimo, "She's my mistake. I will handle her accordingly."
The Capo nods, sending his brother an unreadable look before disappearing up the stairs.
"Stop crying," Santo tells me, coming closer to my cell. My breath hitches as he unlocks the door, and I scramble back towards the bed. His eyes flash and he rakes a hand through his hair, making it fall messily over his face. I don't know why he's looking at me like that, almost like I'm the one posing a threat to him, but I must have imagined it because suddenly, I'm being pulled up to sit on the bed. My body is too weak to protest as my arms are guided into shackles welded to the wall that I didn't even notice, and they bite into my skin when he snaps them shut.
Santo leaves, returning with a knife and a camera. I try and calm myself down, not wanting my family to see me like this. I do not want to give my father the satisfaction. I'm aware of the thin shirt I'm wearing that isn't doing the best job at keeping me from being exposed. There is almost nothing between me and the devilish man in this cell with me.
Once the camera is set up, Santo stalks towards me like a predator. I'm reminded of the way he moved that day at the hotel, so fast, almost elegant in his speed. That, combined with the deadliness of his strength makes him an absolutely lethal force. I hate the dark beauty of his face, that by looking into it I can almost forget what's about to happen to me.
He stops in front of me. I stifle a cry as he takes the knife, pressing it to my neck. Unwittingly, I think of my mother, how she met her end at the jagged blade of Luciano's favorite butterfly knife. I'm sure Luciano will appreciate the poetry of it all.
I don't know what Santo is waiting for, but he's just standing there, looking at me. Maybe this is one of his torture tactics. To make me beg for it, just so it can be over with.
Well, fuck him.
"Fucking do it," I cry angrily, my tears slicking down my neck, and something in his expression shifts. I start straining against my restraints, and I feel the knife dig into my skin as I press forward into the blade. The blood runs warm down my chest, between my breasts, and I almost welcome the sting.
Santo pulls back with a sudden snap. Something in his face looks disturbed, and I think groggily that I'd rather see him grinning down at my dying form. At least I'd get to see beauty in my final moments—however dark and twisted it may be. As the panic thickens, my vision starts to fade before everything becomes black.
+
I don't know where I am, but I hear voices.
"You gave her one cut."
"With all the blood it produced, and the fact she passed out, it provided for effective pictures. We don't need to kill her."
"Yet. We do not need to kill her yet."
Silence.
"Will she be an issue for you, Santo?"
"I want her alive, Simo." His voice becomes dark. "And I want her safe from the men. If I hear that anybody touches her, I'll castrate them and choke them with their own fucking dicks."
More silence.
"Santo." The danger in that utterance jolts me a little more awake, and I start to be aware of shapes around me.
"She's my mistake. Mine." His voice sounds so silky and dangerous. "You know how territorial I am over my projects. I want to be the one to break her. Right now, she will not be any more leverage to Luciano dead. Let's see what we can get out of him before we do anything else to her."
The nightstand by my bed comes into focus gradually. I register the feeling of the cloud-like sheets engulfing my body and I press myself into the pillows with a small groan. My head is killing me, and my neck feels incredibly stiff. As the seconds pass, I become aware of the sting. My eyes immediately smart with tears at the pain there.
More low voices and then the soft shut of a door reach my ears. Thinking I'm alone, I begin to stretch, opening my eyes fully. A beautiful, cruel face comes into focus right above me and my heart kicks into gear.
"Do not move," Santo orders sharply, eyes focused somewhere below my own. I realize he's staring at my neck, and whimper at the new pain caused by my sharp movement. I feel a warmth spreading there and watch Santo's face darken. He disappears from my line of sight, returning with what looks like a first aid kit.
Then, I lay there in silence as Santo replaces my bandage.
"Do not move so suddenly," he frowns, and I stare at the sharp curves of his face as he works above me. "It opens up your wounds and you start bleeding again."
"You don't care about that."
He ignores me.
I try to shove him away, but he grabs my arm, holding it tightly. My chest heaves as I fight back panic and anger. He releases me carefully, his eyes communicating a cold warning, so I lay back.
"I'm dead anyway. If Massimo wants me tortured and dead, that's what I'll be," I scoff. "What a pathetic life I've led. Hidden away but constantly on call for Luciano, for whatever he wants to do with me. His little doll that he can dress up and present to the public."
Santo's movements become harsher, and I wince. "Just get it over with. Don't clean up my wounds like you're not going to inflict more later."
He stops, regarding me with that look I can't decipher. His eyes flash as they rove across my face and down my neck. "Simo's word is final, yes. He is Capo. But he listens to his family. He's not a machine, Nina."
I shiver at the sound of my name coming out of his lips. "But he doesn't... he doesn't have emotion, right? Why would he care? Does he... does he even care about his family?"
I think I've crossed a line as soon as the words leave my lips, but Santo merely gets back to work on my wounds. I barely contain a gasp when he grabs my wrists and begins applying ointment to the marks left by the shackles.
"Simo is tied to this family by bonds you would never understand. He would do anything for us, and we for him." A fierce loyalty shines in his eyes, and I realize I've seen a similar look in Massimo's eyes when he's talking to Santo. That bond... I wasn't expecting it.
"Well, that works out great for me."
Santo tenses, anger bleeding into his tone. "I am responsible for you."
"And that means I will only be subjected to torture, not rape? Death, but not yet? I heard what you said. You're going to break me."
"It means you will do as I say. And right now, you will rest, eat, and remain in your room until I say otherwise." With his chest rising and falling like a cold, unforgiving wave crashing repeatedly into its rocky shore, Santo leaves.
I'm left wondering what this feeling in my chest is, and why his anger sounded like it wasn't directed at me.