I scuttle down the sidewalk after class on Friday night. Professor Whitmore was in rare form, actually seeming to be interested in what people had to say when they raised their hands, but I spent most of the class thinking about my plans for the night. I have to sneak out. I’ve never snuck out before, but I’ve seen movies. My bedroom window lets out onto the fire escape, and I’m certain I can get down from there.
I shove my hands in my pockets. The closer I get to the auction, the more ridiculous it seems. Am I really going to sneak out to Staten Island to sell my virginity? Am I really willing to give that to someone who’s willing to buy it?
The skin on the back of my neck prickles, and I whip around. A couple makes out on a stoop nearby. An older man with a bottle clasped in a brown paper bag shoos away pigeons collecting in front of him. A few homeless people sleep on benches and blankets. No one seems to be looking at me.
I rub my neck under my loose ponytail of brown curls. Despite that, I can still feel someone watching me. Or, I think I can. But it doesn’t feel like the chills I get when Frank and his men watch me in the restaurant. I still have goose bumps, and it’s a little unnerving to be watched no matter what, but it’s more like…when Mama used to stand in the door until I’d crossed the street for the bus before school. Like someone is watching over me, rather than just watching. A strange warmth takes up residence in my chest, and I hurry the rest of the way home.
When I arrive, the restaurant lights are already off. My stomach flips. Sometimes Mama and Baba close up early when I have class, but almost never on Fridays. There’s too much money to be made off drunk people stumbling in, starving and willing to buy anything you so much as mention. I open the door slowly. Nothing seems out of place. The register is closed up properly, and all the cook surfaces are turned off. But something is definitely wrong.
I creep up the stairs to our apartment on the second floor of the building. The door is slightly ajar, and I can hear voices within. My stomach jumps like I missed a step. Someone’s in our house! But then, the voices resolve into Mama and Baba.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Gregorio,” Mama says in a soft voice I know means she’s trying to make sure I don’t surprise them in the middle of the conversation.
I hesitate in the middle of the steps. Usually, when my parents keep things from me, they have a good reason. But they were wrong about Dante. He was very polite the whole time I served him, tipped well, and hasn’t come back since. And sometimes, they still treat me like the youngest daughter, the little treasure they have to protect from the world. If something bad enough to make them close the shop on a Friday night happened, I deserve to know. I sneak up the final few stairs and peer into the crack of the door.
Mama leans over Baba, blocking my view of him. On the counter next to her sits our first aid kit.
“What was I supposed to do, astéri mou?” Baba asked. “Let him have what he wants? Is that why we came to America, to sell our daughter?”
I press my hand to my mouth to smother my gasp. Sell me? That has to mean Frank was here, and he wanted something terrible.
“No, of course not. I only mean you shouldn’t have aggravated him so.” Mama steps aside to grab ice from the freezer, and I see Baba for the first time.
My stomach drops. Bruises litter his olive skin, and a dark line of dried blood seeps from a cut on his cheek. Mama’s already cleaned the cut on his forehead and closed it with a few spidering black stitches. He looks like he’s been in a fight with a brick wall. Or Frank Lombardi, a man with as much grace and tact as one. A deep, fiery emotion starts to build in my gut, one I’m not very familiar with. As Mama applies ice to a few of Baba’s bruises and he winces, the emotion becomes clear.
Anger. I am furious that anyone thought they could touch my family. I clench my jaw and turn to go back down the stairs and pretend like I’ve just come in now. I need to get to the virginity auction in time to keep this from ever happening again.
“I didn’t mean to aggravate him,” Baba said. “I thought he was joking, at first. Our Eleni, marry his Luca? I can’t imagine it. I can’t imagine a man who thinks children are things to be sold off like brood mares.” He spits. “There’s no choice, Maria. You and Eleni will go to Parikia.”
Luca Lombardi, a man only separated from his father by twenty years of pickling in his own noxious evil. He hadn’t been in the restaurant in a while, but I didn’t remember a time he’d been in and not tried to touch me. My anger burned brighter. Frank should’ve never put Baba in that position. My dad would do anything to keep harm from coming to me. Now, I had to do the same for him.
“I’m not leaving you alone, Gregorio—”
I tiptoe down a couple stairs, then stomp back up them. “Mama? Baba? Everything okay?”
By the time I swing the door open, the medical supplies have disappeared from the counter, and Baba has disappeared with them. Mama stands alone in the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel I know held ice to Baba’s forehead mere seconds ago.
“Ah, zouzouni.” She smiles tiredly. “We didn’t mean to scare you. We just got tired and decided to close up early tonight. Your baba’s already gone to sleep.”
I nod and try to smile like I believe her. I’ve never lied to my mom before. I’ve never seen her look so tired before, either.
“You should get some sleep too,” I say softly as I cross the room to her and hold my hand out for the dish towel. “I’ll clean up here.”
She kisses my cheek and lets me take the towel. “You are too good to us. Tell me about your class tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay, Mama.” I watch her trudge down the short hallway to her bedroom then look down at the dish towel. A little bit of bright red blood stains the blue-and-white checks, and that hot anger kindles in my belly. Never again. I clean up the kitchen, then head for my room. The virginity auction awaits.
EleniI push the hangers holding my every-day clothes to the side and stare at the few special-occasion dresses I’ve accumulated over the years. I can’t wear my prom dress. The long, glittering baby-pink dress with the lacy sleeves seemed perfect when I picked it out, but I’d stick out like a sore thumb on the ferry. I don’t really want to wear my birthday dress. It stops at my knees, so I might be able to hide it under a long coat, but I picked out the yellow polka-dotted dress because it looked so cheerful, and I don’t want to think of this virginity auction every time we go out to dinner for Mama’s, Baba’s, or my birthday. That leaves me with my funeral dress. I pull the black sheath from the closet and hold it up to my body. It is sleeveless, with just wide straps holding it up, and the skirt doesn’t flare nearly as much as my birthday dress. Every time I wear it to a funeral, I get a little nervous that people might think it’s too sexy because of the fitted top.Perfect.I slide
EleniI whirl. There, on an even softer looking leather couch, wearing another pitch-black suit, sits Dante. He smiles slightly as he swirls a glass of some dark liquor and looks me up and down.“Um,” I say.He stands and prowls closer. My heart hammers against my ribcage. “You shouldn’t be here,” he murmurs.“What?” I blink. “I have the same right to be here that all those other girls do.”Dante chuckles, low and teasing. I gulp.“You actually don’t.” He circles around behind me. “Piacere is my club, and everyone knows the Calimeris family—including their charming daughter El—belongs to the Lombardis.”The rage that ignited in me when I saw Baba in the kitchen flames back to life. “My family doesn’t belong to anyone. And I didn’t know this was your club. I don’t know anything about you.”He circles back around so I can see him again and opens his arms wide. “I’m an open book. Ask me anything.”I mean to ask him why I’m back here, what he wants from me. But I’ve never been good at co
EleniI slip out of the front door of Piacere without looking at the stage, where the auction is still going on, or the line of people outside. People—men—from both groups jeer at me, but I ignore them. The envelope of money weighs down the inside pocket of my jacket. Fifty thousand dollars. I hurry through the streets. I have to get home before Baba and Mama wake. The last thing I want is to worry them.Only when I’m already on the ferry back to the city proper do I think about Dante. My face heats. I threw myself at him, and he basically refused. I bite my lower lip, still tingling from the heat and pressure of his kiss. I really thought he wanted me. Stupid. Men like him only ever want me for my body, but I could tell he wanted someone with more to them than that. He just didn’t see more in me.Tears bead in my eyes, and I shake my head. Sure, I sold more to Dante than I ever wanted to, but I have the money. Mama can stop cleaning up Baba’s blood, at least. When I arrive home, I l
DanteI drop into my leather desk chair and cradle the hot mug of coffee I picked up in the kitchen to my chest. The virginity auction at the club is usually a great way to make some money and pull new eyes. I show up every year, but I’ve never bid before. I’m no saint, but women who’ve never had any kind of sex before tend not to be as…flexible in bed as I prefer. But goddamn Eleni Calimeris. El, as she called herself, one of the worst fake names I’ve ever heard. I can’t get her out of my head. When I went to The Greek Corner the other day, I was just hoping to rile Frank Lombardi. The dickhead gets reckless when he’s mad, so pissing him off is almost always good business. I didn’t expect Eleni. I take a sip of the coffee and allow myself a minute to think about her before I have to do some work. The bun she’d worn to the auction last night made it impossible to think about anything but tasting the skin of her neck. When I asked her what the gyro tasted like to her, her soft blue e
EleniI blink awake and discover someone removed the bag from my head. I lie on a scratchy couch in what looks like someone’s wood-paneled basement, still wearing my sweatshirt and nightgown. A single lightbulb battles against the dark, but it barely reaches the walls. I suck in a breath, and the musty scent of underground combines with just a hint of the metallic stench I remember from the apartment.The apartment. Where I left Baba dead. Mama isn’t here, so at least they haven’t caught her yet. Or they killed her too. Tears fill my eyes, and I lift a hand to swipe them away.Both of my hands move, accompanied by the sharp bite of plastic. I look down. Someone zip-tied my wrists together. And my ankles.
DanteI stare down at Eleni, bloody, bruised, and half-covered. Rage lights in my veins, something deeper and truer than I’ve felt before. I knew Frank Lombardi was scum. I’ve touched enough blood that he spilled to never question that. But violating Eleni like this is something new. It’s the end of the goddamn line for him.She stares up at me, and the confusion in her wide, blue eyes morphs slowly into fear. “Dante? Wh-why are you here?”Fuck. I never want to scare her. I kneel and snap out my switchblade. She flinches, but I can’t do anything about that. I slit the zip ties around her ankles, fix her skirt, then hold out my hands for her wrists, struggling to keep my movements slow and calming.
EleniI stare blankly out the window of the sports car Dante poured me into, watching the city whip by. If Dante wanted to kill me, he would have by now, right? He wouldn’t bother taking me to a secondary location. My body would blend in with the others covering the floor of the auto shop he whisked me out of. Anyway, he was right. He bought me at the auction. I belong to him. I knew I should never have left without paying my debts.The gory images I saw on our way out whisk through my mind. The scent of blood teases my nostrils. I know I should feel bad about what I did to Frank, but when I think about the blood, I can only think about Baba, his pained scream. And I can’t really think about any of it. So, I stare out the window.We pause at
EleniWe pull up to a gated neighborhood—a tall gate, but not one that looks particularly sturdy or difficult to climb, and Dante waves a plastic card at a man sitting in a booth outside. The man smiles and presses a button to open the gate. I expected Dante to have security, but I didn’t expect his security to look like a rent-a-cop. I frown as he drives inside.The houses past the gate shock me even further. They’re bigger than the apartment Mama, Baba, Christos, and I shared, bigger than anything I’ve seen in the city, but they still look…normal. Two stories. A few big, dramatic windows here and there, but only on a few of the houses. Sizable yards, but not big enough for anything more than a nice patio and a swing set. And there are more houses than I thought, too. A couple dozen,
*Tatiana*Okay, fuck, that does sound like a genuine threat. He’s definitely not new to any of this, and he’s used to stubborn people like me. He’s probably faced worse in his years in the mafia, assuming he’s from another syndicate. Judging by the way his eyes are hungry for information, I doubt he’s just a normal person Oleg owes money to or had a bad business deal with.Lev taught me how to hold on during an interrogation as long as I could in several of our lessons in the past, but he never really tortured me while doing so. How am I supposed to act when the real deal is actually happening? I thought I was prepared for this, but maybe I’m not?Am I ready for this man to cut my skin, hold my head under water, pull my nails out of my fingers, and all the dreadful things these people are known for doing? How long until I break?Panic creeps through me again, and I realize I need a plan B before I lose the grip on my self-control and have to start pleading for my life. I don’t wanna
*Tatiana*I feel like I must’ve gotten run over by a truck. My head is pounding so hard, I feel like vomiting, but even so, I force my eyes to open. There’s no light here except for a dim stream coming through a tiny window near the top of the wall in front of me, so it’s difficult for my eyes to adapt.There are strands of hair in front of my eyes and face, and when I lift my hand to push them aside, I realize my wrists are tied behind my back in what feels like a very thick, tight rope. My legs are also strapped to the chair, both my ankles tied. I can barely move.Panic starts creeping through me as I realize what’s going on. Images of the recent events flash through my mind, making me remember how I ended up here, wherever I am.I look from one side to the other, taking in my surroundings. Even though it’s dark and humid here, I spot some tools and boxes that make me think this has to be a basement. The place is quiet, and there seems to be no one around, although I doubt they’d l
*Angelo*“I’ve got her,” I inform the rest of my men who are all wearing earpieces. “I’m taking her to the car.”“Roger that,” Dice replies right away. “We’ll meet you there.”I toss the woman’s limp body over my shoulder and step out of the alley, ignoring the curious and frightened stares I receive from pedestrians bustling by on the street.The SUV is parked in front of the deli, and when Sal spots me, he climbs from behind the wheel and rushes to open the back door for me. I place the woman in the back seat—carefully, even though I don’t need to be—and go around to the other side so I can sit beside her. I buckle us both in and wait for the others to load up.Even though I knocked her out, and she probably won’t wake up in the next few hours, I still need to keep a close eye on her, just in case she wakes up and tries some funny business. I’ll watch her the entire way until we’re out of this part of the city and safe in our territory where we’re less likely to be attacked.“That w
*Tatiana*Getting someone to help me proves to be an almost impossible task, even once I wander into a populated area of New York City.I know literally no one in this city, and it’s not like I can trust anyone. While I’m fairly certain my adoptive parents had allies here, I have no fucking idea who they are or how to find them. Oleg must have eyes and ears everywhere, so it makes me hesitant to approach anyone.But in this dress, I’m an easy target for anyone who might be helping him. New York is a crazy place, but I’m probably the only woman in a bloody, ripped-up wedding gown on the streets today. If the mob doesn’t get to me, the police certainly will.My stomach is beginning to ache from the knot that formed in there weeks ago, but I force myself to take deep breaths. At least I’m able to hold back my tears–for now. My whole life turned upside down in a blink of an eye, and having to suppress my feelings so I don’t show my weakness to Oleg and Yakov has taken its toll on me.Pic
TatianaHow the hell am I supposed to escape this place when I have no fucking idea where I am? Running toward the back of the chapel seemed to make the most sense to me since the fighting is all happening at the front–at least for now–so I sprint toward the door the priest likely used and pray it’s unlocked.Thankfully, it is. I slam through it, looking around to ascertain if there’s any danger here. I see the priest huddled in the corner and almost roll my eyes. Hiking my skirt up, I take off toward a door I believe has to be an exit.“You shouldn’t go that!” he shouts. “They’re out there, too!”But my momentum carries me through the door before I can think, and I nearly run into a couple of Oleg’s men who are defending the back entryway against what appears to be another syndicate, one of the many groups of enemies Oleg has accumulated over the years, no doubt.“How the fuck did they find us?” one of the men in front of me shouts to the other in a thick Russian accent. I just have
*Tatiana*A tacky, overly poofy white gown hangs on the back of the bathroom door next to the full-length mirror. I take a deep breath and drag a hand down my face. How the fuck am I getting out of this?I hoped I’d have more time to escape, but this day has come more quickly than anticipated, and now, here I am. The fuckers got me to the church on time.“What do you think?” one of the maids who will be helping me get dressed asks, a timid smile on her face.Arching an eyebrow, I say, “I think I’d be better suited to black.”She laughs nervously and pulls the fancy frock down off the hanger. I have to assume this contraption cost thousands of dollars and was designed by one of New York’s biggest names in fashion.It’s a death trap to me.It would look so much better with a spray of vomit across the front.Telling myself I need to focus, I listen to the maids prattle on about how they’re going to do my hair and makeup and other such bullshit I couldn’t care less about.“This dress is m
*Tatiana*I spend most of my time in “my” room. Images of my parents bleeding out fill my mind, whether I’m awake or asleep. Even sitting by the window, staring out at the serene garden behind the mansion, I can’t shake the overwhelming sadness and revulsion that fills my body with every shuddering breath I inhale.No one comes into my room except for the maids–and that’s a good thing. When I have to see Oleg again, it will be all I can do to keep from lunging at him and trying to take him out right now. I will kill him–but I can’t be impulsive, or I’ll spoil my chance. Something tells me he won’t hesitate to kill me if he feels it’s necessary, regardless of all of his plans for me.No, I need to bide my time. Lie in wait. Strike when the timing is right.When I’m not picturing my parents’ pale bodies sitting in those chairs, I imagine what it will be like to kill him. That’s the only time I allow myself a bit of happiness, a small smile, when I think about what it will be like to hav
*Tatiana*As soon as the plane touches down at JFK airport, a wave of anxiety washes over me. This is my first time leaving my home country of Russia. I’ve spent my entire life looking over my shoulder, waiting for my asshole uncle, Oleg Romina, to show up and finish the job he started twenty years ago when he murdered my parents in cold blood. Now, he’s summoned the only parents I’ve ever known, Lev and Ilya Ivanov, to return to America. I insisted they bring me along, but as we deboard the plane, a sense of unease settles into my chest.My biological father, Petr Romina, used to be the boss of the Romina Empire, a smaller Russian mob that has territory in several countries, including New York where Oleg resides. When I was old enough to understand the kind of life our family used to have, Lev and Illya told me the truth about my parents’ deaths. My mother was my dad’s mistress, and when Oleg learned that they were planning on getting married, his greed made him murder both of them,
*Angelo*Sweat drips from my forehead into my eyes as I run through the streets, in too much of a hurry to even consider finding a car or waiting for someone to come and pick me up. Traffic would only slow me down, and I can’t afford to lose a single second.My heart beats so fast that my chest hurts. My legs grow weak as I try to push forward, shoving away the worst case scenarios in my head. I force my lungs to take in as much air as possible because I certainly need it.More than that, I need to be able to focus. I can’t risk making a single mistake. The streets are empty, proving everyone that says that New York City never sleeps wrong.I round a corner and see my final destination–but I’m too late.The air is thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood. Several bodies litter the ground. I step over them, afraid to look down in case I recognize some of them. I can guarantee the person I’m looking for doesn’t lie among them.Some of the Saints men arrive right after me. I was nea