Act 1: Queen's Rook - Chapter 1

Sienna

What is a queen without her king? Well, historically speaking; a lot more powerful. From Hatshepsut and Cleopatra to Catherine the Great and Queen Victoria - all these women ruled and prospered without a king.

So why shouldn’t I?

Ten years ago, our enemies ripped apart my family, the love of my life taken from me, and our family name obliterated. We all thought this would ruin us, but they did not nickname me 'Dragonetti Queen' for nothing. I now stand as Capo Dei Capi as my husband did, only this time it is in Italy instead of New York.

Still, some people doubt me and refuse to bow just because I am a woman, just like this idiot at the end of the heel of my stiletto. “You are not my queen!” he cries out in Italian, spit flying against my heel. I shake my head and give him a sweet smile. “You will bow to me in death, buscetta,” I say, digging my heel deeper into his throat and watching him trash around, looking at me wide-eyed. “And you’ve ruined my fucking shoe.”

Dario walks over to me as I hold out my hand, and he places one of his favourite blades in it. This soldati doesn’t know just how far my reach stretches and that I knew he broke Omerta yesterday when he turned snitch.

I reach down and end his miserable existence by replacing my heel with the blade.

Dario takes the knife from my grip and grins. “Fourth one this month,” he quips, wiping the bloodied blade on his jeans. I give him a look that lets him know that he’s overstepped, but to be honest, Dario was the only male I trusted at the moment. “It hasn’t slipped my eye, Dario. There is unrest; someone is stirring them up.” I say.

He nods, then places both his hands on my shoulders. “You’re the Queen; everyone knows that. But I am the only one that will be honest with you about this; if there is unrest, it is not starting from the outside.” He says, reading my thoughts yet again. I sigh, walking over to the concrete sink and washing my hands. “I was too afraid to admit it,” I say, shaking my head and feeling dejected.

I knew Italian men would find it harder to accept a woman as their Capo, but surely everything that I have achieved over these years should count for something, right? The connections I have made, all while keeping my legs closed, have made the Dragonetti name one to be feared again. What more could they possibly want?

“Don’t let it bother you. We will find the traitor, even if we have to cut through all of them,” he assures me with a grin, then cocks a thumb towards the door. “Nico and Sylvana should have arrived by now.”

I nod at this but feel a twist to my stomach at the mention of Nico’s name. Over the last few years, he has grown to resent me because I was the one who established our underworld rule in Italy while he was confined to a wheelchair. Sylvana is still my close friend, but she would readily choose her husband over me, and I wouldn’t blame her. On the other hand, Serena is loyal to a fault - it helps that she’s my Consigliere.

We leave the basement, and I remind Dario to get a cleaner for the snitch before walking towards my bedroom. Tonight, there would be a meeting with Italy's top 3 mafia leaders and a crime boss from Greece. These meetings no longer made me nervous, knowing that these men all wanted to see me fail. I don’t know how I kept it together all this time, but as I step into my bedroom, the reason runs towards me.

“Mama,” she calls, wrapping tiny arms around me. I remember when Daniella was still a baby. Now she is almost 11 years old with a mind of her own and the attitude to match. Whenever I look at her, I am reminded of the love I lost; she is the spitting image of Dante, just with my blue eyes.

“Hey, baby,” I croon in Italian. She knows English but prefers the tongue of the natives here. “I missed you. Zia Bamba says Christian will come today. Is this true?” She asks, jumping on the balls of her feet, and I let out a sigh. Leave it to Bamba to tell Daniella about our visitor.

“Yes, he might be coming today or even later tonight. Oh, he mentioned that he might bring you some loukoumi if you’ve been a good girl.” I say, walking over to the bathroom, and she follows me. A smile spreads across her face at the mention of her favourite sweets, and she squeals. Daniella has taken quite a shine to Christian. I suppose she would; he treats her like a little princess.

She stays with me for a little while longer before leaving to shower and to get ready for bed. I let out another sigh when she left, knowing that I might soon have to break her heart. It would be for her own good, though, so I have to do this.

After I am confident that I look presentable, I head downstairs to meet my family and hopefully seal a few deals. Such is the life of a mafia leader.