Bellissimo Fortuna (Beautiful Fortune) (2 page)

“Bianca, we can’t tell him. He will have to let my father do what he wants. You know the rules.” Bronson may not like this life, but he respects his father enough to obey the unwritten code. Once a girl is spoken for, or promised to another, it is cemented in stone, and only the Boss can intervene; much like an arranged marriage. I’m only sixteen, and the man my father has promised me to is twenty-three, and only an associate for now. Marco is around a lot more than other associates, so any day now I expect him to become a soldier, and then my father will make sure he is a captain. I can see Marco’s gain . . . being tied to the underboss is a privilege and any man wanting to be in this business will jump on this opportunity. I just haven’t found out my father’s side of this. I know there is something to gain for my father; he doesn’t do anything without an ulterior motive. Usually I can figure out his motivation, but this one is still lost on me, which is scarier than most of his plans. The unknown with Frank Locati is the worst . . . his surprises are never filled with cake and balloons, but rather blood, pain, control . . . served with a side of superiority.

“I know the rules, and there are ways around them. If we tell Bronson, he will decide he really wants you. He can tell my father, and it will be handled. It hasn’t been brought up yet, formally, so if my father speaks now, it’s the end of it.” Allowing sixteen-year old kids to deal with lifelong decisions isn’t the smartest thing. I silently give her my nod of approval, and my stomach churns. Bronson is in another league. Beautiful is the best way I can describe him. Protective, sincere, and just flawless in my eyes. Perfection. He’s never made Bianca and I feel like pesky little girls, and he sure doesn’t treat me like a little sister. I’ve always wanted us to end up together, and I guess I will have my answer today. “BRONSON!” I have never understood why she doesn’t use the intercom on the wall like a normal person. She prefers summoning people by shouting through the house. I roll my eyes at her, and she just giggles and shrugs her shoulders.

I watch her door, having memorized this routine. We call, and he comes running like one of us is in peril. It never changes, and I start counting down the seconds in my head . . . five, four, three, two, and, “What’s wrong? Who’s hurt?” comes flying out of his mouth, as the door swings open. I can’t help it; I smile like a loon, and watch my best friend collapse on her bed in hysterics. Bronson looks over at her and then back at me with his grey eyes boring into mine, all while I still stand there taking in all that is Bronson Agosto. He’s always been built, but at eighteen, he is pretty solid, spending lots of time in the gym either sparring or lifting weights. His olive complexion is the perfect backdrop for his sandy brown hair, strong profile, and sturdy jaw, which right now has a twitch in it because he is realizing that once again, his sister just wanted to talk to him and scared him to death. “Bianca, one day I’m not going to come running, and you’ll be sorry.” We both know that is an empty threat . . . he may be exasperated with us now, but he would never risk us really needing him.

“Chill, Bro. We actually do have an emergency this time.” I inhale a deep breath, needing more than oxygen to get me through her spilling the truth. He watches his sister’s face, trying to gauge the intensity of what he will be facing, when her eyes slide over to me he whips his head, staring at my face, and I try not to let my apprehension show. I know he has memorized all my ticks, telltale signs of distress, and when I’m hiding something. Obviously he knows this is going to be monumental because he walks towards me, and shrouding me with his arm, draws me towards him and places a kiss on the side of my head, his classic comfort stance with me. He knows I don’t get much of it at home, so he gives it to me freely. “Come on, Callie, tell him,” Bianca encourages me.

I’m speechless. I thought she was going to tell him. Knowing this is my fate becomes too much for me to articulate. Bronson has always held my heart, but in this moment, he holds my future. He murmurs in my ear, “It’s okay. Tell me, so I can fix it.” His voice seems to wrap around me, enveloping me in safety, security only he can offer me, the shelter he gives me so willingly and without question each time I need him. He still has his arm around me and tucks me closer to him, giving me everything I need without me ever vocalizing it. I look to Bianca, begging her wordlessly to tell him. I can’t get the words out of my mouth. Telling Bianca was difficult, but repeating them to Bronson isn’t an option. He knows vaguely what goes on in my home, but only Bianca knows everything. I couldn’t begin to tell him everything. I don’t know what he would do, but he is very predictable, so I am sure it would involve taking care of me. He would surely involve his dad, in turn that would anger my father, and it would be worse for me. My father hasn’t crossed any invisible lines, he is just nasty, hurtful, and very erratic. So in turn, all their dad can do is issue a “friendly word of advice,” and in turn, my penance will be swift and excruciating. My biggest fear is being shipped off and separated from Bianca . . . and Bronson. It wouldn’t be in his best interest because I am of value to him in negotiations and with the Agosto family, but he would do it if left no choice.

“Let her sit down then I’ll tell you, Bronson.” Bianca, forever my friend, saves me yet again. I give her a weak smile, trying to convey my thanks. Once he has me settled next to him on her loveseat, Bianca sits across from him and lets him have it. “Mr. Locati promised Callie to Marco today.” No preamble, no warning, she just delivered the blow. A monumental turning point in my life was just handed to Bronson, and he wastes no time becoming enraged.

“He
what
?” Bronson is seething mad. His voice may be level and low, but his body is rigid, and anger is radiating from him. He is a hothead, and as I watch his fists clench and unclench I pray he keeps his temper in check. It won’t benefit anyone if he loses control. I reach out and cover one fist with my hand. He immediately turns his hand over and laces our fingers together. He seems to gain some control, and I watch his chest rise and fall as he breathes deeply to get his bearings. Turning to look at me, he says, “Tell me, Callie. Everything.” His tone leaves little room for argument, and I know it won’t get me anywhere.

“I overheard him telling Marco that if he wanted to become a made-man, more than his role as an Associate, he needed ties to a family. Then he offered me to him when I become of age because he said it wasn’t like anyone else would want me.” I hadn’t told Bianca that last part, and as I meet her eyes, the pity in them reminds me why. I don’t need pity, I decided long ago that doesn’t get me through the days. I used to feel sorry for myself, asking myself why I was burdened with the parents I was. No answers ever came, no change in my life arose, so I decided to deal with it, not wallow in it. I know my father likes to make me feel less than, it’s his way of looming his position over me, never letting me see my worth. It’s hard to overlook, but I started a few years ago. He is the one lacking, not me. It’s become a daily mantra, not always working, but one day at a time is what I can do.

“No, Callie. That won’t happen. I can promise you that.” He is so assured in his promise. I want to ask him what he is going to do, but before I can, he asks the one thing I don’t want to answer. “What else haven’t you told me?” I can’t tell him. I can’t let him see the shame I live with, and most importantly, I am afraid some of it is the truth, and I can’t see that in his eyes. I shake my head. “Callie.” His voice radiates through me. “Spill it. All of it.”

I open my mouth, letting it all flow out. I know, in this moment, I have drawn a line with my dad. It’s a dangerous path, one we won’t come out of intact, but as I look into his eyes, watch him flinch when I repeat the barbs and insults my father hurls at me, see the fury cross his face, then the steely resolve, I know it’s all worth it. For every, “
You’re worthless, Callie. You’re such a disappointment. We shouldn’t have had kids. You’re just like your mother,
” that my father launches at me, Bianca and Bronson are right there to erase the digs and ease the pain.

Each time I repeat the insults, Bronson kisses my temple, my hand, my knuckles, and looks at me with adoration, mixed with fury for my pain. With them I’m not ruled with an iron fist and scathing words, but I’m embraced by unconditional love, soothed with the admiration of their words. Here is where I get to be the Callie Locati I’ve always imagined being.

Chapter 2

Bronson

The struggle not to kill my father’s right hand man is clawing in my chest, rising up into my throat, making it hard to swallow. I’m seeing red the entire time I’m walking to my father’s office. Each step I take, replaying his cruelty towards Callie is my undoing. I’ve never liked him, never trusted him, but the fact he dared to say any of this to his sixteen-year-old daughter, then promised her to a seedy-ass nobody who is seven years older is too much for me. The words are on instant replay, looping from my mind directly to my heart.

She’s mine. Always has been and will forever be. I need to comfort her, be her succor, but first I have to speak to my father, calm down, then I will go back to her. I will erase every destructive word her father has thrown at her if it’s the last thing I do. I will eradicate them from her memory. Seeing that she believes the insults, the blatant lies, slays me. Her expressive green eyes don’t hide the hurt; she is impressively striking and believes she isn’t anything to look at. Before I walked out of the room, I made sure to kiss her head and reassure her, “I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t leave.” I looked to Bianca, and she silently let me know she will keep an eye on her.

“He hates me because I don’t have a penis.”

“He tells me I am the ugly, red-headed child, and he has to beg someone with ambition and no ties to the family to take me.”

“He won’t let me go to college. I want to be a teacher.”

“He says you and Bianca tolerate me because you were raised with manners, but he’s heard you complain to your father about me always being here.”

Is there anything that man didn’t lie to her about? It went on and on. I almost came out of my skin when I asked her if there was physical abuse. The hesitation in her breath and her unwillingness to meet my eyes told me all I needed to know. She quickly let me know it was a grab on her arm or a bruise on her wrist when she was trying to escape his verbal taunts. I don’t care if it was a fucking paper cut, nobody, and I mean nobody, lays a hand on her. She won’t be harmed ever again. I had never questioned that she would be mine forever. It just hadn’t been determined when. I was just waiting on the signal from her, and today I got it loud and clear. In the Mafia you grow up faster than most, and in the Agosto family when you fall in love, you protect what’s yours. I had hoped she would be a bit older, more mature when I made my move, but the situation at hand sped things along. No complaints from me. At eighteen, I’m not a virgin. I passed the time waiting for her, but now there will be no one else. I’ll still take my time with her, but there is no question that I will claim her. I intend to do it now as I storm into my father’s office.

Not knocking and not caring who is in his office, I barge in.

“Figlio?” my father greets me with his brows drawn together; he knows there is an issue. He can read me, and in this moment I am forever grateful I have the parents I do.

I snarl, “Frank Locati.”

“What about him, Bronson?”

“Callie is upstairs, and she won’t be going home.” I know I am teetering on being disrespectful but not without reason.

“Son, you need to remember your place. I’m here for you, but not to take your orders.”

“She’s mine, Papà.” He just nods at me. “He treats her horribly. Calls her names, says unspeakable and spiteful things. He has marked her skin with his hand.” I’m getting worked up relaying this story again, breath ragged, and my father has done nothing to lessen my ire.

“Family business, Bronson. We don’t get involved unless he crosses the line. You know the rules, we each handle our own families how we see fit, and unless it is abuse, we don’t interfere.” I’ve heard that same spiel from him one too many times. I love my father, and have the utmost respect for him, but I need him to listen to me this time.

“He promised her to Marco.” My father is taken aback. I can see I finally got to him. “I want her promised to me, by you. I need the announcement made, today.” Time is of the essence because if Frank promises her to Marco in front of the family, my dad can still overrule him, but it will create more hardship for her.

He seems to mull this over. “You sure? This is life-changing. You are giving your word, making her untouchable to anyone else, and it will be your honor to keep that promise. Are you sure you are willing to do that? You need to think about it, son.”

“Nothing to think about. She’s mine. I don’t care who knows it, but I want her father to know it. I also need
him
to know she is untouchable.” He studies me and must like what he sees because a smile spreads across his face.

“I’m proud of you, Figlio. I was wondering when this day would come. I’ll make the announcement this evening.”

“When can we move her in here? She can share a room with Bianca or take a guest room.”

He shakes his head. “Bronson, you can’t do that. I can’t do that. She is sixteen, and it’s not my call or yours.”

The hell it isn’t. “Father, she can’t stay there. I need to be able to protect her. I’m committing to her, and it is my duty to keep her safe.”

“I understand. Once this announcement is made, she will be safe. You know he can’t go against us, so she will be fine. Until she is of legal age to marry, you can’t make her choices.” My mind knows he is right, but every other part of me is screaming to find another way.