DeLuca (Mafia Romance)

Mia I tried to cry, tried to feel remorse, guilt, anything after I killed him. After you killed your father, I thought. But I was just kind of numb all over. It was all so surreal. After years of living in a house with that despicable example of a human being, both of them really, it was finally over.

My mother was just as guilty as he was, turning a blind eye to the abuse. She had the ability to leave him, could have taken the stash of cash he had in the house and we could have taken off and started over. But no, she would never do that because, ‘A good wife stands by her husband at any cost.’

That was her excuse every time she covered up a new bruise. Hell, that had been her mantra when she was in the hospital four years ago after losing what would have been my baby brother. My father threw her down a flight of stairs in a fit of rage causing her to miscarry, hemorrhage and nearly die herself.

Yup, still no guilt.

If by some miracle I didn’t hate my father before that point, I sure as Hell did after. My mother, being the good wife she is, stuck by her man even after he turned to slapping me around instead. I think she was just relieved it wasn’t her anymore. I learned to keep out of his way as much as possible and spend as much time out of the house as I could. There were still plenty of times when I got caught in his crosshairs.

Never again, I vowed to myself as I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. No one will ever push me around again. I am done being a victim.

Angelo had brought me up to the bathroom to get cleaned up. My shirt had been covered with blood so Angelo gave me a white button down to change into. I looked at my reflection in the full sized mirror that hung on the back of the door. The shirt was big, ending mid-thigh, but a few crimson stains still peeked out beneath the hem. Six drops, I had counted. Six little drops of my father’s blood, evidence of the patricide I had just committed. An odd empty feeling washed over me as I stared hard at the stains. I didn’t like that they were there but I didn’t think one of these men would have a pair of jeans in my size. Even though they seemed to carry around a portable wardrobe. I could just imagine why they would need an extra change of clothes with them at all times.

I took a deep breath to prepare myself before I walked out the bathroom door to face whatever was left of my life. I didn’t think Carlo planned on killing me, I mean why would he let me get cleaned up if he was going to whack me?

I opened the door and stopped short. Carlo was directly in front of the bathroom door, waiting for me. His white oxford was stretched across his broad shoulders as he stood there, arms crossed, leaning against the banister. Deep brown eyes stared unblinking at me.

“Do you have any family?” he asked. I had to give it to him, Carlo DeLuca did not mince words. I had known who he was as soon as I saw him. While I had never met him personally, I had heard my parents whisper his name plenty of times and since he was the one doing all of the talking in the basement, I put two and two together.

“No, the last of my family are in the basement,” I said.RêAd lat𝙚St chapters at Novel(D)ra/ma.Org Only

I really should be feeling something right now.

Carlo just nodded, “Come on.”

I followed him out the front door and into a black Escalade. I guess some mafia stereo types are true, I thought as I climbed into the front passenger side while he held my door open. Carlo didn’t say anything when he got into the car, it was just as well, I didn’t really feel like talking. Instead I thought about what the hell I was going to do next. I was pretty sure I saved my own life by taking my fathers, which was justification enough for me to reason away the slight guilt I felt for not feeling guilty at all.

My instincts were still on edge. After all, I had spent the last four years avoiding a dangerous man only to now be at the mercy of a much more vicious and ruthless man. I didn’t know much about Carlo DeLuca; I knew he was the Boss but I didn’t know to what extent or how far his reach went. I knew he had taken over after his father Vincenzo DeLuca was killed about five years ago. Other than those few things I had overheard my parents mention, he was a mystery.

What in the hell did I get myself into?

I had a feeling I was going to be asking myself that a lot in the near future. After driving for over three hours we pulled up to a mansion on the outskirts of Seattle. It was secluded, clearly for privacy and protection. I didn’t move when he stopped the car and climbed out. He walked around the car and opened my door, when I still didn’t move he looked at me expectantly.

“Come Mia, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, holding out a hand.

“Said the wolf to the sheep,” I murmured and let him help me down. I figured it was the best assurance I was going to get.

Carlo chuckled and shook his head at my comment, “I have a feeling you’re more wolf than you think.” He led me through the garage and up a flight of stairs to the main floor of the house.

He walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Are you hungry?” he asked, looking at me over his shoulder.

“No, thank you,” I said wondering why he’d brought me here. This had to be his house, but why was I here? What did he want from me? I shivered as my thoughts ran wild. I wasn’t naïve, I knew there was a possibility his intentions were sexual. I was seventeen and while I wasn’t a virgin and Carlo was undeniably a total babe, I really didn’t want to be put in a position of having to sleep with a man over ten years older than me in order to stay alive.

Carlo brought me a bottled water from the fridge and motioned for me to sit at the island with him. As soon as I sat down he started to speak, “I will make it look as if your parents and you left town, their bodies will never be found. Of course my people will know what happened to them but the only people that will know of your involvement in their deaths are the men that were in that basement, understood?”

I nodded, I didn’t think he needed a verbal answer. I was right.

“Good, I will have new identification made up for you, you will no longer be Mia Caruso. You will be Mia DeLuca, unless of course, you would like to change your first name as well?” My eyes widened at that statement and my heart started to pound.

Mia DeLuca? What did that mean?

He saw my reaction and corrected himself immediately before my mind could wander too far. “Not like that,” he seemed slightly embarrassed for not clarifying before. “I would never expect that from you. You will live here with me and assume the identity of my sister.” I let out a slight sigh of relief but didn’t say anything so he continued. “You will be afforded every opportunity your new namesake would allow.”

“What about your men? Wouldn’t they know if you had a sister before all of this?”

“Yes, they will be made aware of who you were, and who you are now. However, with a few doctored transcripts, a new birth certificate and identification it will appear as if you’ve always been Mia DeLuca. How old are you?”

“Seventeen,” I said automatically, in shock at what he was telling me.

He nodded, “Have you finished school?”

“I graduated a semester early.” More nodding from Carlo. He did that a lot I noticed, but not around his men. Weird.

“College?” He asked

“I have been accepted to several schools, I haven’t decided on one yet. I still have a few months before I have to let them know.”

“When?”

“I have to make a decision by June or I lose my place.”

But now I don’t know how I’m going to pay for college. I assumed my parents had a college fund for me but I had no clue how I was going to be able to access any of their accounts.

“Well, you still have time.” He cocked his head to the side. “What?”

“It’s just, I don’t know anything about my parent’s financial situation, and do you know how I can get access to their accounts? I mean I don’t know how this is supposed to work, should I file for financial aid or will I be able to get access to whatever they had set aside?”

“Don’t worry about any of that, I’ll handle it.”

“Okay.” I didn’t know how he was going to handle it without raising suspicion but I figured the less I knew the safer I was, the whole plausible deniability thing.

“Did you get good grades?” he asked shifting the course of conversation.

“4. 0 GPA.” All I ever did when I was home was hole up in my room and study, good grades came easy.

“Good. Now listen to me Mia this is very important, you cannot have any contact with any of your friends from before, it will bring unnecessary complications. Is that going to be a problem?”

“No, I kept a pretty low profile, no one will remember me after a few months. Except Gina, I can still see Gina right? She’s my only close friend. Her dad is Michael Salvatore, he works for you right?” I could hear the desperation in my voice. Gina was the only person that knew about my home life. We had been friends for years. Her dad worked with my dad and since my mom saw her as a good Italian girl she was virtually the only person I was allowed to hang out with. Something that I took full advantage of in the past few years.

“Yes, he does. Gina is clear, you can still see her. I’ll have her father explain things so she knows to spread the word about you moving away, that might actually lend some credibility to the story if anyone gets suspicious.”

I nodded my agreement, as long as I could still see Gina I didn’t care about anything else.

“Now that’s settled I’ll show you to your room.” He got up from the island and led me through the great room and up a giant staircase.

My mind was racing. This morning I was just trying to keep my head down and praying my father’s absence would last at least one more day, now this afternoon my father’s absence from my life had been made permanent, as well as my enabling bitch of a mother. I woke up Mia Caruso, suburban girl with a shitty home life and I would be falling asleep tonight Mia DeLuca, privileged sister of the west coast’s most notorious crime boss. What a difference a day could make.

Carlo opened two large wooden doors and led me into the room, it was more like a hotel penthouse than a bedroom. I had never in my life seen such opulence, and I grew up with an Italian American mother with a flair for the expensive and gaudy. The room was full of rich colors and heavy fabrics with dark wood furnishings. The main door from the hall led directly into a large sitting room complete with a couch, TV, floor to ceiling bookcases and a wet bar. There was another set of large dark wooden doors that led to a smaller room, which was still bigger than mine at home. This housed a giant four poster bed, complete with a canopy of gauzy white fabric flowing down the sides. It was like a dream, and that was before I even got to the walk-in closet. Another door led to a giant en suite with a Jacuzzi tub and steam shower.

“Carlo, I don’t-uh, do I call you Carlo or boss, or like Goomba?” I stuttered.

He laughed, a full belly laugh, his face was relaxed and he smiled down at me, “Carlo is fine, you’re my sister now after all.” It was the first time I saw any other expression on his face than serious businessman or stone cold killer. It was nice, I finally started to relax. He chuckled again, “Goomba, you watch too many movies, no one says that anymore.”

I smiled and started again, “I don’t need all this, I just-” I sighed, “I’ve never lived like this, it’s weird to me. I feel like I don’t deserve your kindness, I could never pay you back, I just-”

“Stop,” Carlo interrupted with a little bit too much force causing me to startle. He continued in a gentler voice, but his eyes remained deadly serious. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen closely. You did not deserve the parents you were given, I saw the hell you lived through in your eyes today. I recognized it because it’s the same look I see in my own every day when I look in the mirror. We’re kindred spirits, bound not by the blood in our veins but by the blood staining our hands. Do you understand what I am telling you?”

I let out the breath I was holding in a whoosh, “Did you-you killed your father?” It wasn’t really a question, since his eyes already told me the answer.

He nodded, “You are the only person outside of my closest men that knows, and the only living person in this world that has the knowledge of my childhood. I am trusting you to keep my secrets and in turn I will keep yours. What you did today took immeasurable strength. I can see the fighter in you, Mia. I want you to know that you are not a charity case and I am not the type of man to take in strays. You are my family now, and I will treat you as such and expect the same in return. You will never want for anything and I will protect you with my life, all I ask for in return is your loyalty.”

All I could do was nod, it was a lot to take in. Finally, I croaked out, “You have it.”

He stepped closer and kissed both of my cheeks, “Good. Now go ahead and get settled. I’ll have Elena bring up some spare clothes for you. Dinner is at seven.” He turned to leave but I stopped him.

“Elena?” I asked.

“The housekeeper. If you need anything when I’m not around, she can get it for you,” He answered over his shoulder before disappearing out into the hall.

…

Soon after Carlo disappeared there was a knock at the door.

“Come in?” I called, still unsure of my place here.

A petite woman came through the door holding a garment bag. Her long hair was pulled into a bun at the base of her neck and from what I could deduce from the gray streaking through her black hair, she was probably in her mid-fifties. She wore a crisp button down, gray slacks and an apron.

“Hello darling, you must be Mia. I’m Elena.”

“Oh, hello,” I gave her a nervous smile, everything was so different from when I woke up this morning. I was completely out of my element and had no idea how to act or what to say. It was all so overwhelming.

“No need to be scared, Bella. I know this must be a lot to take in and I promise I will answer whatever questions I can, but for right now you need to get ready for dinner. Here, I brought you some clothes to change into. They will have to do until we can go shopping.”

Bella. My grandmother used to call me that before she passed, the endearment instantly warmed me to Elena and set my nerves at ease.

“Okay, thank you.”

She set the bag on the bed and nodded once, leaving the room.

After a quick shower I unzipped the bag Elena had left and inspected the contents. Three dresses; black, light blue and gray. They must have been Elena’s because when I slipped on the blue one for dinner I noticed it was exceedingly short on my 5′ 9″ frame.

Oh well, I guess it’s better than blood stained jeans.

Even though I was just going downstairs for dinner something told me it would be inappropriate to go barefoot so I slipped on my black converse and headed out in search of the dining room. I backtracked down the huge staircase leading down to the foyer and after only two wrong turns I found Elena in the kitchen. It was going to take forever to learn how to navigate through this place.

Seriously, who needs this much fucking space?

Elena was just pulling out the lasagna from the oven when I walked in.

“Ah, so the dresses fit. Good, I was worried,” Elena mused when she saw me standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Oh, umm, yeah. Just a little short,” I said with a nervous little chuckle while I smoothed the skirt of the dress down, willing it to be just a little longer.

“Nonsense, you look beautiful. We will need to get you some new shoes though,” she commented with a raised eyebrow.

At that I laughed, a real laugh, and struck a pose. “What? You don’t like it? I think it makes a statement.”

“A statement huh? That you have no fashion sense?”

We both giggled at that one and I gave her a huge smile. Just then the door opposite of the one I had come through swung open and Carlo waltzed into the room.

“What are you two in here cackling about? I’m hungry.” At first I thought he was angry but then a slight grin pulled at his mouth.

“You’re always hungry. Why don’t you show Mia to the dining room, dinner is almost ready,” Elena said, effectively shoeing us out. It was obvious the kitchen was her domain and even a scary Mob Boss didn’t have a say in the confines of these walls.

“Of course, this way Mia.” With a sweep of his hand and a slight bow Carlo led me back through the door he had come in and into the dining room. There was a massive wood table in the center of the room directly under the most ornate chandelier I had ever seen. Carlo pulled a chair just to the right of the head of the table and gestured for me to sit.

“Wine?” he asked once we were both seated.

“Yes, please,” I had drank wine regularly at dinner with my parents and after the day I had a glass would do well to settle my nerves. I was still apprehensive about my place here and wasn’t sure how to fit in. I had never had any siblings.

No, your father stole that from you.

My hand gripped the wine glass hard at that thought, but I was saved from my inner musings when Elena came in with the salads.

“So, I’m sure you have questions and I would be happy to answer them for you. All you need to do is ask. Of course there are some things about my business that I will not discuss but I will do my best to answer what I can,” Carlo prompted.

“I understand, I guess I just don’t know where to start. You said I watch too many movies, what did you mean by that?”

Carlo let out a relaxed laugh, “Ah, yes. You seem to be under the impression that I live a real-life version of The Godfather, yes?”

I nodded.

“In some sense I guess that is true, I am the Boss and not all of my businesses are exactly legitimate. However, the Italian Mafia as you know it to be depicted in movies is no longer. As I’m sure you know, the Mafia was far reaching and a powerful force until the mid-eighties. Now the organization is mostly contained to the east coast and Europe. I may be involved in organized crime but my ‘family’ as I like to call it doesn’t necessarily follow the old ways.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for instance, in the Italian Mafia if you are not of Italian decent you are unable to move past the rank of associate to become a Made-Man. Also, women are not able to hold any sort of position within the organization and men were not allowed to grow facial hair.”

“So, you don’t follow those rules, but you’re still Mafia?”

“I am a modern man, Mia. I don’t care for the antiquated and prejudiced views of the men before me. First and foremost I am a businessman, making money is my goal, whether my men grow facial hair or not is of little concern to me. And while I don’t have many women working under me in my non-legitimate dealings I don’t discriminate. Besides there are just some jobs that a woman is much more suited for than a man.”

“But your men are still Italian, right?”

“I have a few men that are not of Italian decent but mostly, yes. What can I say, we stick to what we know. But that’s not just an Italian thing, most organized crime is run in the same way. You stick to the people you know and can trust, usually those people fall under the category of kin or countryman. It’s just the way it works.”

“You kill people.” I said. No shit, Sherlock. I had seen him murder my mother right in front of me just hours ago.

And you murdered your father.

Carlo regarded me carefully, he was solemn when he responded. “Yes, when necessary.”

I nodded again. There really wasn’t much to say after that. We finished our meal in silence, Carlo had given me something my father never had, honesty. While I may not be completely comfortable with what he did and how he did it, I was thankful that he trusted me enough to answer my questions without sugarcoating it. He didn’t treat me like a child, in fact he treated me like an equal, something I had never before experienced.