Taking three steps back, I propelled my body forward and lifted my leg, kicking the heavy bag with all my strength. The object barely moved, but the chains that held it groaned.
"Higher. I know you can do it" Marco shouted, firmly gripping the punching bag. "Picture a guy who's six feet tall, Carmen, and you want to kick that idiot right in the middle of his face."
I let out a grunt and tried again. I hit a higher point by imagining the face of one of our enemies and how merciless they would be if they could get their hands on me.
"Good girl" he murmured, a wide smile spreading across his face.
Marco had been my best friend and bodyguard for as long as I could remember. Ten years older, he was raised in my family's household and was the man my father trusted the most.
My mother died when I was born, so I ended up being raised by Antonieta, Marco's mother, who was also my nanny and housekeeper. With all that time spent together, we grew close and became great friends.
Unlike most girls in the mafia, I wasn't raised to be a daughter. My upbringing was geared toward becoming the heir to our house. As a child, I learned to shoot and fight to defend myself. I didn't play with dolls but with knives and weapons.
And that was a secret known only to me and my family.
No one was aware of this detail of my life. My father insisted on keeping this part of my childhood completely under wraps, hiding it even from our Capo.
I stared into Marco's green eyes and smiled.
"What does he want to do with me?" I asked, taking two steps back and preparing for the next strike.
Marco was a tall, muscular man, like most of the mafia soldiers. He was very attractive, with thinning brown hair, pronounced cheekbones, and a chiseled jaw. His green eyes occasionally hinted at a psychopathy that left me unsettled. The Camorra tattoo on his neck peeked out from the collar of the black cotton t-shirt he was wearing.
"Um..." He pursed his short lips, deep in thought. "He wants to fuck you" he warned, shrugging.
I widened my eyes and prepared to attack.
Marco employed the tactic of simulating a possible real situation, making me retaliate to defend myself.
He was two centimeters taller than me and much stronger. My goal was to kick the punching bag with such force that he would be forced to let go of it, and I couldn't stop trying until I accomplished that, even if it left me exhausted.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My heart raced, and sweat trickled down my neck, sticking my hair to my skin.
I imagined the supposed scene.
No one was merciful in the mafia; there was no pretty scenario in a likely attack. At best, I would be killed; at worst, raped and tortured. And that was what Marco wanted me to see. If I were caught with no one to defend me, how should I respond? Accept my fate or fight until the end?
I would fight because I had been trained for it; I was taught to kill mercilessly, and to torture if necessary. I was not raised like a princess; I was raised like a soldier.
I opened my eyes and propelled myself forward, striking the punching bag squarely with my foot and ankle. The impact was so strong that Marco dropped the bag, letting it sway in the air. My leg throbbed, but my face broke into a satisfied smile.
I did it.
If it were an enemy, they would be dead and sprawled on the floor right now, and I would be free to escape.
Claps echoed behind me, a hollow, persistent noise. I turned on my heels to find my father approaching slowly. His eyes sparkled with genuine pride for his only daughter.
"Papa." I smiled, peeling off the gloves that covered my hands and throwing them onto the ground. "I didn't know you were back from the meeting."
He placed his hands in the pockets of his gray suit and shook his head. I could tell something was wrong with him; I noticed it in the tightness of the muscles in his back and the rigidity of his jaw. I had no idea what the meeting was about. He always kept mafia matters away from me, not wanting me to worry about them, but whatever it was, it hadn’t left him happy.
"I’m proud of you, amore mio. That was quite a kick" I congratulated, pointing to the bag swaying in the air with one hand. "You’re one of a kind, Carmen, a treasure, and I am so proud to be your father."
I couldn’t help but furrow my brow.
My father was an amazing man; I was very lucky to have him. I saw how mafia girls behaved at events.
They were oppressed by their fathers, subjugated to their wills, raised to be good wives. Always submissive, always compliant.
But not me.
Enrico Romano never married again and didn’t have more children, so the responsibility of running the house fell to me after his death. And that was why my upbringing was so... unconventional.
"What’s wrong?" I asked.
His white hair was slicked to the sides, disheveled from him running his fingers through it. His dark eyes seemed anxious, and the face that had once belonged to a very handsome man was marked by age. To enemies, a cold, calculating man. To me, a loving father willing to do anything to protect and please me.
He sighed.
"Papa..." I murmured, feeling my heart about to leap out of my chest.
His eyes darted to a point behind me, then returned to mine.
"There’s no easy way to give the news, Carmen, so I’ll get straight to the point" he said, and I nodded slowly, my body numbed by the news that seemed to be very bad. "You are promised to Dominique Venturelli."
I opened and closed my mouth, not knowing what to say. Nothing he had said seemed to make sense, as if he were hallucinating. Or was I the one who heard everything wrong?
"What?" Marco's voice sounded behind me.
He managed to verbalize the question I couldn’t, as my tongue started to feel very heavy and my throat, constricted.
My father exhaled through his nose and shook his head, looking as if he were devastated by it.
"The council forced Gilliam to marry one of the brothers, so the bastard decided he would marry Dominique to Carmen" He looked at me, pursing his lips in a grimace. "I’m so sorry, amore mio. I tried to intervene, but he’s our Capo, and he was determined... I couldn’t do anything."
I clenched my fists at my sides.
I had spent my damn whole life training, fighting, and learning to defend myself so that I wouldn’t have to rely on anyone after my father’s death, and now Gilliam Venturelli would simply decide that I should marry his psychopathic brother? Damn it, cursed mafia! Damn Venturellis!
I ran my hand through my sweaty bangs, pulling them back, and turned away. I couldn’t look at my father. Though I knew how things worked and that he couldn’t go against Gilliam’s orders, not without being killed in the process, I couldn’t face him at that moment. I was too hurt.
The freedom I had at home was being taken away from me.
"Carmen, look at me" he pleaded, but I made no move to turn.
"Please, just listen to me."
I looked at Marco. He was glaring at my father with evident hatred and disgust. My best friend, my personal soldier, the man who trained me to be the best, was sharing the rage with me.
"They wouldn’t leave you alone. I raised you to be self-sufficient, Carmen, but with the surname and fortune you carry, you would be forced sooner or later to marry someone from the mafia."
I spun to him in a dizzying whirl and pointed an accusatory finger.
"So you decided to throw me to the wolves before that could happen, papa? If you’ve had these plans from the beginning, why didn’t you let me be like the other girls?" I hissed, the tears pooling were blurring my vision.
He shook his head.
"You could never be like the others, dear. You’ve always shown yourself to be a warrior instead of a princess. I had hopes that you could live in peace, that you wouldn't have to marry, and so I raised you to be self-sufficient." He cast a glance at Marco. "But if they forced you into a marriage, I had plans to create a false contract with Marco. That way, you could retain your freedom, living the life you so enjoy."
A tear rolled down my right cheek. I brought my fingertips to my face to wipe it away. I cried out of anger, so much that I needed to release it somehow.
"Why didn’t you tell them I was engaged, that I was promised to another?" I whispered through clenched teeth.
He laughed without humor.
"And do you think Gilliam would accept that? Come now, Carmen, you know how things work in our world. Dominique is the brother of the Capo, his right-hand man. If I said you were promised to a soldier, they would kill Marco without hesitation and force us to honor the agreement. It would be a disgrace for me to break a bond between you and Dominique Venturelli for the sake of a soldier."
Deep down, I knew he was speaking the truth; if he had disagreed with Gilliam Venturelli, he could indeed be dead right now. But knowing this didn’t lessen the pain.
I needed to break something, to shoot at something and unleash the anger and frustration that swelled inside me.
"Our surname and fortune matter too much, Carmen. They wouldn’t leave you in peace after my death. Gilliam forced my hand in the name of the mafia; I had no choice."
In the name of the mafia.
When the Capo uttered such words, there was no choice but to comply.
I released a low sob, hating that I was showing weakness in front of them.
"And now?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
He walked towards me and held my hands, looking deep into my eyes.
"Now you will put into practice everything you have been taught, Carmen, but you must never let them know. That will be your greatest secret and your main weapon. Let them think you are like the others, that you were raised to submit, that you are a daughter of the mafia. Hide from them who you truly are and use that to protect yourself."
I lifted my jaw.
"And Dominique?"
"He will be a good husband, as much as he can be. I see how respectful Gilliam is with his wife, and although Dominique is the crazy one in the family, I believe he will be like his brother in this regard."
I clenched my jaw.
"Especially because I will kill him if he does otherwise" I stated.
I didn’t care that he was the brother of the Capo; I didn't care who he was. I would kill him without a second thought if he raised a hand against me.
I saw women of the mafia at events, scars hidden beneath clothing or heavy makeup. They suffered physical and verbal abuse, just as I knew their husbands frequented brothels and had regular mistresses. I didn’t consider what they had to be a marriage; it was more like a torment: sad, shallow, and utterly meaningless.
No matter what happened, I would never accept to live like that. I hated that I would be forced to marry in the name of the mafia, but as a daughter born and raised in that world, I knew there was no escaping that responsibility. And if I tried, I would put my family in danger. My father would lose his honor, and I would be hunted and killed. Therefore, I would fulfill my responsibilities, but I would kill Dominique before he could ever lay a hand on me.
My father laughed.
"I know you will, and that’s what makes me feel secure, Carmen, because I raised you to be the best of all" he said, placing his palm against my cheek.
"I'm sorry that you have to do this in the name of the mafia and that you have no choice, but know that I will be here for you and always for you."
"We can try another way, run away... I don’t know" Marco pondered.
"There’s nothing that can be done; it has been decided by the Capo himself. He chose Dominique's fiancee" Dad countered.
Marco punched the punching bag and raked his hands through his hair.
"Damn, so is that it? Carmen will be forced to marry someone she doesn't love?"
"she hissed, pacing back and forth."
I lifted my head and blinked, wiping away the tears that clouded my vision.
I was a Moris, an atypical girl in the mafia, and I would survive this. I had spent my whole life being trained to be strong, so I wouldn't let an arranged marriage shake me.
"I will do this" I announced.
"I am a daughter of the Camorra, my Capo is requesting my services, and I will obey his orders."
"I looked at Marco."
"I hope you’ll stand by me in this, as my best friend and bodyguard. I will feel safer if you're with me."
Marco didn’t reply. He simply turned on his heels and left the old warehouse behind, slamming the door shut as he exited. I shared the same frustration with him, but I knew my obligations, and as much as I felt resentful, there was nothing I could do about it.
"I am so sorry, darling. If I had known... I would have intervened sooner, signed the marriage contract between you and Marco" he lamented.
"But I hoped I could have a choice, a chance to decide whether I wanted to marry or not."
I flung myself into his arms, ignoring the thin layer of sweat that coated my clothes.
"I know, papa. None of us were prepared for this."
He stroked my damp hair and rested his chin on the top of my head.
"Don’t forget, Carmen. Use what you know to your advantage."
The shadow of a smile curved my lips.
"I will be a sweet wife, everything they expect of me." I pulled away, taking three steps back. "I want to see a gynecologist. I don't care if they expect an heir from me, I'm not up for that. It’s better they don’t know that I'm preventing an unwanted pregnancy."
"I’ll arrange that as soon as possible" he said, tugging at his suit sleeve to check the time on his wristwatch. "I need to know if you want to get involved with the wedding details or if you prefer someone else to organize it for you?"
I never thought about what my wedding would be like. I had no desire to marry, nor had I ever, at any point, fallen in love with anyone. I loved the freedom I had, the gift I had been given, the power of choice, which is why I never thought about tying myself down to someone. I was happy alone.
I crossed my arms over my body and sighed.
"I want to be involved in some things, but not most of them" I warned.
My father wasn’t an idiot. He had raised me to be a warrior, but he understood how things worked, so he interspersed etiquette lessons among my self-defense training. I knew how to handle a weapon just as well as I knew the vital points to take a life. I could shoot someone with my eyes closed and still hit the target. On top of all that, I knew how to conduct myself in front of others.
At home, a deadly girl, raised and taught to kill. In the streets, a lady of society, a well-mannered daughter of the mafia.
It would be easy to disguise my true personality. I had been living a double life for as long as I could remember. And as the right hand of the boss, I hoped Dominique would spend more time on the streets than at home; that way, I would be alone and at peace.
"I will notify Gilliam. He is eager for the agreement, Carmen. I’ll try to postpone the wedding date as much as possible, but I can’t guarantee that."
I still felt anger. As soon as I was alone, I'd pull one of the guns from the chest, destroy all the targets, and only return home when I felt avenged and exhausted.
I clenched my hands, cracking my knuckles.
"I will fulfill my role as a member of the mafia, papa. At some point, the wedding will take place. Gilliam has ordered it; there’s not much we can do."
He nodded.
"We will host an engagement dinner, as is our family tradition, and thus you can get to know your fiance better" he notified, changing his posture, becoming more dignified. "I assure you he will be a good husband, dear. I made it clear that I wouldn’t accept anything less than that in our meeting."
I didn’t care whether he was a good husband or not. I would not accept being a punching bag. If Dominique were an aggressive man, I would kill him without a second thought.
I heard the rumors about him, how he was psychopathic and how much he loved to kill, relishing the blood of his enemies. He was unstable, the brother that Gilliam couldn’t control, the idiot who had plunged the famiglia into war with the 'Ndrangheta. The men spoke of him, whispering his name in fear. Traitors preferred to be tortured by Gilliam, or anyone else, rather than fall into Dominique's hands.
And the sadomasochistic, vengeful demon of the mafia would be my husband.
What great happiness!
I couldn’t remember his face, as I hadn’t seen him in years. And during the times we were both present… well, it wasn’t as if he mattered to me.
Unfortunately for him, I knew how to be just as psychopathic, if not worse. I knew who he truly was and what he did, but he would never discover anything about me. He would marry thinking he was bringing home a sweet and innocent bride, not one who could kill him in the blink of an eye.
My father pressed his lips together, looking awkward and somewhat anxious, then shoved his hands into his pockets.
"I need to ask you a personal question, Carmen, and I need you to be sincere with me, because it’s very important."
Oh, my God! What more could he possibly want from me? — Go ahead, papa.
He remained silent for a few more seconds, postponing the moment.
"Marriage is very important for the famiglias; it was the council that ordered it, and that’s why they are asking for a chastity exam on the wedding night." I felt a flush cover my face and my eyes widened. I thought the situation couldn’t get worse, but I was utterly mistaken. "Tell me that you are still a virgin, Pietra, please." He cleared his throat, averting his gaze to his polished shoes.
"Yes" I confirmed, my voice barely a whisper.
"You and... um... Marco..." he whispered, stumbling over his words.
Air got trapped in my lungs. I never thought I could die of embarrassment, but here I was facing the most improbable event of my life. I would have a heart attack or a nervous breakdown at any moment if my father continued to ask about my nonexistent sex life.
Antonieta had prepared me for this. When I had my first period, I received a long lecture about sex, babies, and female and male anatomy. It was a bit embarrassing, but nothing compared to discussing the matter with my father.
"Dad, we are just friends. Nothing has ever happened between Marco and me" I warned, rolling my eyes.
I was a virgin, but not an idiot.
When I was a teenager, I had a little boyfriend at school. It was a forbidden relationship and highly secretive, but I kissed him over and over again.
My father extended his hands, as if apologizing.
"It’s okay; I believe you" he said, slowly moving away to escape the topic, just as I wanted to do.
"The council is putting a lot of pressure on this. I needed to make sure."
I huffed.
"There’s nothing you need to worry about, except for Dominique’s throat. I could kill him on our wedding night."
"I smiled, pulling a knife from the sheath at my waist."
My attempt to break the awkward mood succeeded. My father’s expression softened and he returned my smile.
"God have mercy on that man" he joked. "Yes, because I certainly won’t." I winked.
I turned sideways and threw the knife at one of the targets, hitting the red center perfectly. I imagined it was the head of my future husband, and that served as inspiration for my next practice.
I had always known what my duties were as the daughter of the mafia. I just didn’t expect them to come for me after all my father’s protection and everything he did to keep me away from prying eyes, shielding me from potential marriage proposals.
It turns out that in this world, I could try to escape the mafia, but it would always come after me; it would always be with me.
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