Amelia
I feel like a ton of bricks has landed on me as I slowly try to force my eyes open. Someone is holding my hand, and for a moment, my mind thinks of Frankie and how soft his hands were. They were also big and very nimble. I smile stupidly and then groan. “It hurts everywhere,” I moan out.
“It could be much worse,” my father comments, withdrawing his hand from mine. “Amelia,
what the hell are you thinking, dating these guys?”
I crack my eyes open at last to look at his angry face. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, though. No, I can’t interpret what that look is. Probably disdain. I try to sit up, and he moves to help me, but I quickly push back, “I’m fine. I don’t need help. I’ve never needed your help.”
He clicks his tongue at me, a habit that annoys me, mostly because I find myself doing it too. I
just want to be free of Gustavo Fernando and all his controlling ways.
“You date these losers who then attack you. They attack you, Amelia. Where is your judge of character? Where is your common sense not to get involved with these types of men?”
My father paces, only he would be pissed at me while I’m in a hospital bed with a head injury. The head injury! Dave had clocked me on the head with something hard… my memory is a little hazy.
“Who brought me here? Was it Dave?” I ask. “What happened to him?”
“Do you care?” My father spits. “No, he’s in another room. He’s already been dealt with, and he’s lucky it wasn’t by me.” His dark eyes meet mine, and I get his meaning. My father wouldn’t have let him live to tell the tale. I don’t feel sorry for Dave. The dick deserved what he got. I can’t help but wonder, though, if Frankie had something to do with it.
My attention is brought back, once again, to my father. “What do you care about who I date?” I seethe. “Since when do you care about how I feel or who I see?”
I can feel my emotions bubbling over, but I can’t seem to stop myself. Getting attacked and seeing Frankie, it’s too much. “I’m sick of you trying to control my every move as though you own me.”
“You are my daughter. You represent my family, and you will do well to behave like it,” my
father raises his voice. Normally I’d back down at this point, but I’m too emotional and sore to give a single fuck, let alone any flying ones.
“Oh, now I’m your daughter. But when you disappeared and left me with Mama, then I wasn’t
your daughter. I wasn’t your daughter when she drank, did drugs, and prostituted herself. When she used to take me out of school so she could walk me around and convince people to give us money because I was a poor, hungry child, was I not your daughter then? No, not until you just pitched up one day and took me from her and decided to call the shots. Only then was I your daughter.”
My father’s eyes widen with anger, and he roars back, “I had to leave. I had done things, Amelia, things that placed you in danger if I stayed. I would have come back sooner. I would have stopped your mother’s abuse if I had known. I have made mistakes, mistakes like your mother. But I don’t regret having you, and I don’t want to see you make the same damn mistakes I made. Placing your trust in the wrong people all the time.”
“She beat me black and blue almost every day for nothing, but at least I was free to leave, free
to live my own life.” I’m sobbing now, but I’m still angry, and I want him to know how I feel. “She didn’t give a fuck about me, and neither do you. You only care about your precious image.”
“We must show a strong front,” my father shouts, although I can see the nurses outside getting agitated at the commotion. “We must not show weakness, or our enemies will use those weaknesses against us. And you, Amelia, you are my greatest weakness. I will do anything to protect you. Yes, if that means I control aspects of your life, so be it. If you hate me, so be it, but I always have your best intentions at heart.”
“Mr. Fernando, this is a place of healing. You can’t be causing a commotion like this,” a brave doctor says from the door.
My father looks at him, and the doctor withers, reaching to close the door instead. My father
whips back around to me. “I know you are not scared, that you are brash, a bit like me, and impulsive. But don’t become an addict like your mother, especially to the kind of guys that treat you like a piece of shit.”
“Like you do?” I say, wiping my eyes on my bed sheet. “Your cold, calculating decisions
about who and what I can see and do. I’m tired of it, Papa. I’m tired of being ruled over as though I have no thoughts of my own.”
“Mia,” my nickname, he never uses my nickname, “you have such a strong spirit that the gray
in my hair is from trying just to get you to stay on some sort of path, let alone the one I want you to take. I’m glad you think you listen to me.”
“I do listen to you. I’ve listened to you my whole life, all I ever wanted was your approval, your love, and all I ever got back was the coldness you give everyone.” I look away, crossing my arms. My head is aching now, and I want the conversation to end so that I can get more painkillers and go back to sleep.
There’s a momentary pause before my father moves forward toward me. “Mia, do you know
how terrified I was? When the hospital called me saying you’d been attacked. I felt awful. I thought my whole world was crashing down around me. I didn’t know if you were going to be okay, if you would have permanent damage to your brain, or if you would need care. I knew, though, that I would provide you with whatever it is that you need.”
I look at him, finally, and I notice how disheveled he appears. His clothes aren’t pressed
straight like they normally are, and there are bags under his eyes. Even the gray in his hair is more prominent. I soften a bit.
Maybe he is telling the truth, that all the years of trying to control me were because he cared about me and wanted what was best for me. I never thought of it that way because he disappeared during a really shitty part of my life, and the next minute, he reappeared throwing money at whatever problem came my way. I didn’t think he actually cared about what I did or who I was becoming.
I reach out my hand, and he takes it in both hands. “I’m sorry I made you worry, Papa. I didn’t
mean for it to happen. The guy who attacked me, Dave, I won’t be seeing him again. He attacked me because I broke up with him. After all, he’s not good enough for me.”
No one is, I think to myself, and I’m sure that my father feels exactly the same way. He kisses
the back of my hand and gives me a rare smile. “It’ll be okay, Mia. You just need to be a better judge of character.”
I may be laid up in the hospital, but at the very least, I think I trust my father a little bit more.
Frankie
What I like most about the business I’m in is the routine. I get so annoyed when things crop up unexpectedly, even though I know it’s part of the job. Things happen, but those things still fall under my routine. Those problems are routine. Paying off some cops, paying off politicians, getting plans through, starting a new business, or buying new land. This is what life is about, and I’m good at what I do.
I can’t help but wonder if I’ve ever been a fun person as I sit with my bodyguards in my
office. I wonder if that’s what Amelia is searching for, adventure and fun. If it is, she’s looking for it in all the wrong places.
My phone is resting on the desk, and I glance at it as it buzzes, lifting it to my ear.
“What do you need, Alessandro?” I say by way of greeting.
My brother doesn’t beat around the bush, “We have a meeting shortly. I want you there. Dad will be there as well as Dominic. We’re meeting with a family friend about a problem he has that I think you can take care of.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Amelia,” Alessandro says casually, and I don’t falter as I reply. “Where and when?”
“Let’s meet at the bistro on Fifth that dad likes so much. I’ll arrange a private area for us to
talk.”
I don’t doubt he’ll clear the entire bistro for this. “I’m leaving shortly.”
I hang up and go to stand in front of the mirror in the corner of my office. I smooth my hair
back and pick up my suit jacket from the back of my chair.
“We’re going to the bistro on Fifth,” I say to Joel. The six-foot-six bodyguard nods. “Yes, sir.”
He leaves to get the car ready, and I turn to the young men sitting opposite my desk. “I’m
trusting you to take care of business while I’m at this meeting. If anything goes wrong, just leave town because you don’t want to know the alternative.”
“Yes, sir,” they chorus, getting up to go out.
I walk out of the office and down the steel stairs. We’re in the factory that we use to ship a lot
of our drugs through. Various people work the lines, sorting the drugs out of the false bases we use. Different family soldiers walk amongst them, keeping an eye on them, so no one gets clever and steals a stash. We’ll keep this factory for a week or two before we relocate. We can’t have the DEA busting down our door.
I walk through the small side door and to the Mercedes-Benz A-Class that sits idling in front
of it. A cursory look around the area tells me it’s safe as I climb into the back with Joel.
The car pulls out into traffic, and I allow my mind to wander. I don’t know what game
Alessandro is playing, but he is one of the few people who knows about my previous relationship with Amelia. I doubt he knows how much I cared for her, though.
I hope he never finds out.
A man is weak when he is emotionally charged, and that woman emotionally charges me off
the scale.
It doesn’t take us long to reach the bistro, and I leave Joel outside to monitor the street while I
go in.
Alessandro is already there with Romero, my father, who was the previous head of the family. Dominic stands near Alessandro. He never was one for sitting. Then to my surprise, I see that Gustavo is also seated at the table.
I should have known.
If anyone were going to try and protect Amelia, it would be her father. The man would take down all of New York for her and then some.
I nod my greetings. “Gentlemen,” I say lowly. “Mr. Fernando, it’s a pleasure to see you.” “And you, Frankie,” Gustavo says, pouring me a glass of red wine.
“You were telling us about what you want, Gustavo,” Alessandro says, sitting back. “Can you
repeat it for Frankie, so he’s up to speed?”
“I want my daughter married into the family, to Frankie. No offense Dominic but I want her safe, and you’re….”
“I’m what…?”
“You’re known to be a dangerous man with many enemies,” Gustavo says evenly.
I stare at Gustavo. Marry Amelia? Me? I don’t want to be the one to break that news to her. She hates how her father controls her, and this will set her off like a rocket. Though I wouldn’t mind, I mean, it would strengthen our family ties, and I’m positive I could keep her in line, mostly.
“What are you offering for this?”
“Access to my businesses, and I’ll give a sizable dowry,” Gustavo says. “A donation to the
family through a non-profit organization. Something that will keep the tax man out of the transaction.”
I run a hand over my chin. “She’s a wild card and difficult to control. It’ll be a lot of work for
me. Work I don’t exactly have time for.”
Alessandro shoots me a look, and I nod. “It’s Alessandro’s decision, though. If this is what he
wants, I’ll comply.”
Alessandro nods. “I’ll have the contract drawn up. You can tell your daughter she’ll be married soon.”
Gustavo stands, and I hold a hand up. “Perhaps I can tell her. She knows me. She doesn’t like
you controlling her life, Gustavo. Perhaps hearing it from me will help a little.”
Gustavo nods, and I’m sure I see a flash of relief on his face. “Grazie, Frankie.”
He leaves, and I stand. “I have arrangements to make if I’m going to bring this up with her. Do you need me for anything else?”
“Is it that simple?” Romero asks me, my father’s eyes looking up at me. “You have no protest about this arrangement.”
“It is my order,” Alessandro says. “This is what’s best for the family.”
I button my suit jacket. “The family comes first. Don’t worry, Father, I will treat her as well as you treat Mama.”
Romero nods and turns back to his food. “You better, or I will step in, head of the family or
not.”
I nod and leave, giving Dominic a curt nod.
I dial Amelia’s number once I’m in the car, and I’m surprised when she answers. “Frankie?”
“Amelia,” I say, business-like, “I’m glad to hear you’re out of the hospital.”
“Thank you. My father said it was you who brought me,” she says. “I appreciate your help.”
“Make it up to me. Let me come pick you up for a light early dinner,” I say. “Just tell me where you are.”
“I’ll meet you at Vinni’s,” she sighs. She knows I want something. “Let’s make it quick,
though. I wanted to go out with some friends tonight.”
“Of course, this won’t take long,” I say. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”
I hang up and turn to Joel. “Vinni’s, pronto. I want to be there before her.”
“Yes, sir.” He taps the driver. ‘Vinni’s on Justice Avenue.”
I sit back, trying to work out the best way to break this news to Amelia. As we arrive, I
decide that it doesn’t really matter whichever way I do it. She’s going to be one pissed-off woman. That’s one of my favorite things about her, her fiery spirit. It can be such a turn-on.
I get us a booth at the back and tip the hostess generously to keep the tables around us free. I
order wine for both of us, an expensive bottle.
“Frankie,” Amelia says as she arrives at the table.
I stand up and kiss both her cheeks before I help her into her seat. “You’re looking well for someone who got clocked by a gun.”
“Thank you,” she seems awkward. There’s a lingering aroma of perfume in the air, her
perfume. I recognize it as one I introduced to her. Thierry Mugler’s ‘Angel’ perfume, the scent always suited her. She fidgets, and I feel a bit put out, noticing how she picks at her nails. I feel hyperfocused on her, and for a moment, I forget why we are meeting in the first place. My heart is thumping hard in my chest.
“Amelia,” I say but then sit back as the waitress brings the wine, “What can I get you to eat?”
“Two specials,” I say quickly, “and a garlic bread,” I add, remembering it was her favorite
here.
Amelia nods in agreement. “Still making choices for me, I see.”
“You’re really not going to like the next one that has been made for you then,” I say, trying to keep my emotions to myself.
“What are you talking about?” she narrows her eyes. Yes, she’s getting pissed quickly. “What decision?”
“It’s been decided, by your father and my brother, that you and I are to get married.”
She stares at me for a moment, and I see something flash in her eyes, but then it’s gone and replaced with rage. “What?” she hisses. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“Calm down. There’s no reason to overreact,” I say, but I know it’s futile.
She slams her hands on the table.
“No one gets to decide that for me.”
“It’s done. You know, once the families make a decision, that is final,” I say, sipping my wine. Her one finger is bleeding from her picking at it so badly. I notice the sweet pink eye shadow she’s lightly applied, but then I look back into her amber eyes to see the rage that’s bubbling there.
“It’s for your own protection,” I say. “You got yourself into this by mixing with the wrong
people. Getting hurt. Your dad wants to protect you now, so that’s what we’re going to do.” “And if I say no,” she spits.
“Have you ever said no to Don Alessandro? Have you ever heard anyone say no to him?” I
ask curiously, trying to play it cool.
“I won’t do it,” she stands, downing her wine. “Go to hell.” She storms off, and I feel something stirring in my soul.