In the cold, darkened room of a convent lay a girl who is minutes away from becoming a woman.
That’s what they say you are once you turn eighteen, right? You’re a woman now, you’re legal, and people can do with you what they want because you’re a grown-up and can handle the repercussions.
Then why do I still feel like a child?
It might be the way they look at me, as if just breathing air is a sin. They think I can’t tell, but the punishments became worse when I started filling out more of my clothing. When my cotton underwear started getting too small, when my body started becoming curvier, when my bra went up by four sizes in five months.
How can I be an adult now when one look from the Mother Superior makes me feel shameful to be a woman? How many Hail Marys will I need to say before I’ll be forgiven for being me?
I hide beneath my shapeless dresses, but what good does that do? I wish I knew who my mother was, just so I can see if I inherited her genes. But I’ve been here since I was only three days old, abandoned, and the nuns don’t let me forget it.
A girl with no name and no history. A girl no one wanted and left on the steps of a convent in the dead of night and the middle of winter.
Rosalita De Francesco Convent. The place I have called home for as long as I can remember, and those memories are not any I hold dear to me. Old fashioned and cold, there are no other children here, just me and the nuns and they’ve drilled their teachings into me since I was able to walk.
How would they feel, I wonder, if I had to tell them I lost my faith after the third beating with the leather belt? That I don’t believe in any higher power because if such a power exists, why leave me at the mercy of women pretending to be pious?
Ah, Lucia, stop thinking such nonsense and close your eyes. Tomorrow will be a long day and you know it.
Sighing, I close my eyes and try to drift off to sleep. Perhaps I’ll have the lovely dream where I open my own place of safety without old-fashioned religious teachings. Where abandoned children don’t have to feel alone and terrified.
I smile as the thought crosses my mind, and sleep eventually takes me.
Three hours of sleep and I am up getting ready for the day. It’s better than being woken up by a bang on the door. After braiding my hair and tying it up in a bun at the base of my neck, I leave the confines of my small room and walk to the kitchen.
As I walk inside, the smell of vanilla brings a smile to my face and I see Nonna Lola icing some white cupcakes, save for the singular blue one - mine. Her wrinkled face is curled into a happy smile as she places the white rose petal on the blue one.
“You beat me to it again, Nonna,” I say affectionately as I walk toward her. She chuckles and holds her arms open to embrace me, and I have to bend down to sink into her tiny, crouched frame.
She’s not my real grandmother, but when I met her the first time, she had wrinkled hands and I called her Nonna without thinking. Her name is Lola, but now she refuses to let me call her anything else. Not only that, but she’s the only one who has ever shown me a sliver of warmth and kindness.
“Buon compleanno, Tesoro,” she says in that croaky voice I love so much and as she breaks off the embrace, she takes my face in her hands. Her eyes are welled up with unshed tears and there’s a look of sadness in her eyes. “Oh, you’ve grown up too quickly, mia ragazza!”
She looks as if she’s about to lose me forever and it makes my eyes mist with tears as well. “Grazie, Nonna,” I say, feeling a tear slip down my cheek and she wipes it away. “But there’s no reason to be sad! I’ll still be here until someone calls me Nonna as I cook for them!”
Chuckling at this, I bend down as she kisses my cheeks and feel that same warmth curling in my heart again. Nonna Lola is the sole reason I’ve been hanging on for as much as I can because once I leave here I am taking her with me!
“Here,” she says as she picks up the cupcake and holds it close to my lips. “Make a wish and blow, Tesoro!”
This is the little tradition that we’ve kept hidden from the others. Every morning of my birthday, she would make a batch of cupcakes and ice them in their usual boring white. But for me, she would ice my birthday cupcake blue and top it with a rose petal in place of a birthday candle.
And when I make my wish, I blow the petal instead of the flame of a candle. She didn’t want to use a candle, because the others would smell the burning wax and wick immediately.
Closing my eyes, I make the same wish I have made for years: Please let this year be different.
The petal blows off the cupcake and, as usual, she catches it and puts it into the pocket of her apron. I don’t know what she does with the petals and she refuses to tell me, so I proceed to eat my birthday treat and we get our day going.
Nonna Lola is the one who taught me to cook from a young age, and instead of teaching me Sicilian recipes, she taught me mostly Italian. Same with the nuns and the languages they taught me. I always thought this was odd since we’re living in Catania, but I’ve stopped questioning her and her odd ways.
After finishing some ciabatta and focaccia for lunchtime, we move on to the quick oatmeal for breakfast. Everyone should be down in about fifteen minutes, and then my dreaded day starts.
But this time things felt… different. For starters, during breakfast, the Mother Superior, or Badessa, wished to speak to me in private. That has never happened before, and I wonder if she’s going to force me into choosing this life or kick me out.
I think the latter is more realistic. There’s hatred in her eyes whenever she looks at me and it doesn’t go away when I walk into her chambers. She’s sitting behind her desk when I approach her and I come to a stop with my hands clasped in front of me.
“You’re eighteen today, Lucia,” she starts because I’ve been taught to speak only when you’re told to. “A woman. Old enough to go out into the world now.”
“Si, Badessa Maria,” I answer her and nearly frown when I see her smiling at me.
She’s never smiled at me once, so why is she doing it now? The act sends a shiver down my spine, but when I hear footsteps behind me, I know it is all an act. But why pretend to be nice to me in front of someone else?
“And since you’ve come of age, your family has decided it is time for you to know who they are,” she says and I have to blink a few times to understand what she has just said.
Wait…
“My family?” I gasp, my hand going to my chest. “But I don’t…”
Suddenly, the presence of the unknown person behind me makes sense. Are they my family? Is that why she’s suddenly being nice to me?
I spin around and my breath catches in my throat when I see the tall, imposing man behind me. He’s older, his salt and pepper hair slicked back and he’s wearing a black suit. There are tattoos on the knuckles of his fingers as he clasps them in front of him, but even as imposing as he looks, I see the warmth in his eyes as he looks at me.
“Buon compleanno, Principessa,” he says in a rough, American-accented voice with a similar warm smile on his face. “You look as beautiful as Catalina did.”
I suck in a breath. “Catalina? Is that my mother?” I ask and look back at a scowling Badessa Maria before turning my head to face the man in front of me. “Are you… Are you my father?”
He chuckles at this and shakes his head. “I suppose you would think that since I look old enough to be your father, but no. I am not,” he says, then his eyes go to the Badessa behind me. “Please leave us for a few minutes, Badessa. I need to inform Lucia of her lineage.”
The chair scrapes behind me and my heart leaps into my throat when the Mother Superior actually listens to him and walks towards the door. “Fifteen minutes, Signor,” she says before the door closes behind her.
Now I am all alone in a room with a man who I know is about to crush whatever I thought I knew about myself.
He walks over to Badessa’s desk and sits down. “Please, have a seat, Principessa.”“You keep calling me that,” I say as I lower down into the chair next to him. “It’s too much of an intimate nickname and I don’t know you, Signor.”Leaning back in the chair, he chuckles again and sighs. “Ah, Alberto would be proud,” he says, lacing his fingers together over his stomach. “You look like Catalina and have her fire, even as you look timid.”“You keep saying that name but I have no idea-”“Your mother was Catalina Moretti, wife of Alberto Moretti, a Camorra Underboss,” he says and I immediately jump out of my chair and take a step back from him. “Your name is Lucia Moretti and you’re their only daughter.”I have heard of the Camorra; they’re a criminal organization that rules parts of Italy. Italian Mafia, to be exact. They’re ruthless…and apparently, I am borne of that blood. This is why he calls me Principessa… “W-what?” I stammer, shaking my head. “That can’t be! They left me on the ste
Three years after my life was changed forever, I am sitting in the church pew with a single luggage bag containing my belongings. Today I am to meet the man my father promised me to, today my life takes a turn.The nuns were even more strict with their training, making sure I knew how to behave like a woman. Only this time I was forced to walk in heels for weeks on end and someone was sent in to teach me how to do my makeup as my husband would expect of me. Yesterday Vito brought me a gift I haven’t opened yet, and this morning Nonna Lola and I had our traditional birthday cupcake. But even as I blew the rose petal, I didn’t make a wish.Wishes are for children who have futures, not for brides who have never met their fiancees.“Tesoro,” I look up when I hear Nonna Lola’s voice and frown when I see her walking over to me. She’s wearing a bright smile and her eyes are shining with tears. “Oh, I am so happy to have caught you in time!”“Nonna?” I say and get to my feet to meet her as s
For the last twenty-two years I have done nothing but seethe in my own hatred and for the last twenty years, I’ve been plotting my revenge against Alberto Moretti and the Camorra.A rickety bridge of peace might have been put into place with my marriage to Moretti’s only daughter, but it means as much to me as his life does. I have no intention of playing nice with the woman I am to wed.They’re the reason I no longer have a twin sister, the reason my mother drinks herself into oblivion, the reason my father became even more heartless, and the reason Dom, my youngest brother, can no longer walk.Play nice with the Moretti bitch? No fucking way. I plan on sending her back to the Camorra in tiny little pieces and igniting the flames of war once more. You don’t take from me and decide to offer a virgin as a sacrificial lamb. A pawn to ease the flames.Sangue per sangue - blood for fucking blood. I had planned meticulously, calculating every detail, and anticipating each outcome, all to
The past week went by way too quickly and even as I stand in this church, staring at myself in the floor-length mirror, I can barely believe it’s the same Lucia staring back at me. My makeup is done to perfection, my hair curled and pinned beautifully, and this dress… It’s a girl’s dream come true. A delicate lace bodice adorned with intricate hand-embroidered floral patterns, accentuating my curves. Subtle beading and shimmering sequins catch every ray of light, giving the dress an otherworldly glow. A modest sweetheart neckline frames my chest, cap sleeves at my shoulders, and an A-line skirt flows seamlessly from my waistline.Layers of feather-light tulle and soft silk, create a dreamy, cloud-like effect without looking absolutely poofy and ridiculous. The dress is completed with a long, cathedral-length veil, edged with matching lace appliqués around the border, and finishing with a veil over my head.This is it. This is my wedding day and I feel absolutely awful.“All done, Ma’
As the smoke from the explosion began to dissipate, the aftermath of the long-anticipated mafia wedding stood as a dark, twisted monument to chaos. Entangled amongst the debris and empty stare of terror on the guests' faces, I can feel my blood boiling with rage. It was supposed to be the first day towards my path to retribution; the day I made Lucia officially mine. Instead, it had become a macabre nightmare with probably a few important, high-ranking members probably dead. Someone had planted bombs at my fucking wedding, a wedding both secured by Famiglia and Camorra alike.“Frankie! Dom!” I exclaim, calling to my brothers. I have to know if they survived!The trembling figure in my arms snaps me out of my thoughts and I see the wide eyes of Lucia staring up at me, clutching at the lapel of my tuxedo. I want to push her away from me, but instead, I push my thoughts down.I threw her to the ground and covered her with my body without thinking, protecting her with my life without a
To say I am trembling in fear is an understatement. One second I was dancing with Giovanni, my heart beating so close to his, and the next I was thrown to the ground, shielded by his body. My ears are still ringing from the explosion and the palms of my hands were tender from scraping them against the floor as I went down. Now I’m in the back of an armored SUV, sitting next to a mean-looking woman wearing a scowl similar to Giovanni’s. She’s wearing a red dress and high heels, is tall and slender, with short blonde hair and tattoos that look like feathers creeping into her neck. I hug my body and feel the ripples of fear still coursing through me. I suspected that a lot of people weren’t happy about this marriage, but I didn’t expect a hit right on our wedding day. Wouldn’t this be the highest disrespect to pay the son of a Capo dei Capi? Wait… wouldn’t this cause a war? As soon as we hit the cobblestone driveway, I know we’ve arrived at Giovanni’s estate. I don’t think I’ll ever
My heart is thudding so loud in my ears that I can barely think, and when he puts the tip of the weapon to my breastbone, I flinch and close my eyes.“Relax, I’m not about to murder my bride on our wedding night,” he says and when I hear the tearing of fabric, I open my eyes to feel the fabric of the negligee pool at my feet. “That’s for later.”Later? What does he mean that’s for later?!Cutting off the straps of my thong as well, he takes a step backward and removes his bowtie, which was already loose and hanging around his neck. As he gets to work unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes do not leave mine and even as they’re filled to the brim with anger, I can see the hunger.I was right about his body being covered in tattoos, but in this case, only his back and sides, save for one tattoo over his left pectoral, right over his heart. It is a black heart with a dagger with the words SANGUE PER SANGUE.A shiver shoots up my spine as it feels like an omen meant just for me.“On the bed, Mice
I wake up and stretch, hyper-aware of the soft body laying at my side. Opening my eyes, I see Lucia still asleep and laying on her back with one leg over mine, her bare pussy still exposed. One hand is over her full, gorgeous chest while the other is splayed above her head.She must have fallen asleep while still covered in my cum and her blood, and I don’t know why, but that doesn’t sit right with me. Actually, it pisses me off at what I’ve done.When I came back to the room, I had every intention of sleeping and not touching her after what we discovered. Especially since I was so angry about the entire thing. Dom is alive, just shaken up, and no one died at the scene except for the server pouring wine.But seeing her in that little white negligee had me thinking with my fucking cock. Why did my enemy’s daughter have to look so fucking beautiful?I get up from the bed and walk over to the bathroom, but something on her nightstand gets my attention - a pill. When I pick it up, I notic