Conquered by the Mafia Boss

“I was on a date with the Italian guy I’m fucking.”

The look on his face is priceless. Stunned doesn’t quite cover it. Shocked beyond belief doesn’t either.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying.”

I’ve never wanted to tell the truth about anything more in my life. I want to rub it in his face and laugh at his pain.

“An Italian?”

“Yeah, I met a guy at a bar and he was Italian-and connected with the mob. You know what, Dad? He was a real gentleman. He told me exactly what he wanted to do with me-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I went to his house. He fucked me really good-”

His hand strikes my face. And again. The blows rain on my head, knocking me into the cheap plywood floor. Stars burst in my vision.

“DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS?”

“No!”

Mom backs away from him as he raises his fist and glares at me.

“You-you let one of those disgusting people touch you-”

“He wasn’t disgusting.”

“STOP TALKING!”

“Why should I? Since you care so much about who gets to touch my pussy, maybe I should tell you more about how amazing he was in bed.”

My father can’t even produce a complete sentence. “FUCKING-BITCH! CUNT!”

“I let him come inside my mouth!”

“You sick, twisted bitch.”

Let the whole fucking club hear about it. I don’t give a flying fuck if they know I sucked Johnny Cravotta’s cock and loved it.

“I had some fun for the first time in my goddamn life, and you can’t stand it. You’re the one who can’t keep it in his fucking pants, so don’t you dare tell me who I can and can’t fuck!” I scream at his furious face and grab the hair-cutting scissors on my nightstand.

“SHUT UP!”

I stab at him with the scissors, but he grabs my wrist and twists it painfully. The bones grind together as he grips me hard and wrenches mercilessly. A sharp pain sears up my elbow and I scream.

I need to get out.

A crashing sound pierces my ears and I see Mom cracking my ceramic vase over Dad’s head. His vise grip loosens and I shove him aside.

“Fucking crazy bitch!”

I scramble to my feet and grab the baseball bat hidden behind my bed. “DON’T!”

Bits of ceramic crumble from his head as he dazedly gets to his feet, looking at me with a hatred so poisonous I feel it turning my stomach. “You fucked a goddamn guinea. Some slick-haired, provolone, cock-sucking dago.”

A small smile twitches on my face at the thought of what Johnny might say if he knew my father called him a dago.

“I did. And I loved it.”

Fuck you.

It’s like waving a red flag in front of an enraged bull. His screams seem to shake the walls, and I tighten my grip over the baseball bat.

“YOU’RE A FUCKING DISGRACE! I should fucking kill you!”

He reaches for his hip and I hurl the bat at him. I crash into the door, seized with adrenaline as his screams of fury follow me down the hall. My body smashes into the people hanging outside the door and I shove them aside.

“Get out of my way!”

My shoulder slams into someone. She flies from me and crashes on the floor. I skirt around her, sprinting toward the door.

Something explodes over my head and I cover my face as glass shards sprinkle down. A picture frame sizzles with a small, round hole and I can’t make any sense of it. Then another blast, and a rush of air beside my hand.

I whirl around and see Dad aiming a gun at my head. Mom grabs his arm, wrenching it, sobbing and pleading. He shoves her aside like a bear batting away his cub.

The air freezes. My chest doesn’t move and I hold my breath, waiting for him to pull that trigger, to end my life exactly how he ended so many others before mine.

“Carlos, what the hell are you doing, man?”

A gentle but firm voice rings out in the clubhouse, and my dad’s head wheels toward Chuck.

“My daughter is none of your concern.”

“She’s a member of this club.”

“Who fucked an Italian!” Red-rimmed eyes turn toward me again. “I can’t believe you let one of those slimy fucks touch you.”

I find my voice somehow. “They’re not all bad.”

“OF COURSE THEY ARE!” The gun trembles in his hand. “I can’t look at you without feeling sick to my stomach.”Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

Same here, asshole.

“Carlos, calm down.”

A gunshot cracks the air, the sound splitting my head in two. I drop to the ground, because I must be dead. He was aiming the gun at me. Then I look over the dirty floor and I see Chuck lying on the floor. Screams hit my ears as the numbness fades. A dark-red pool spreads as Chuck lies in the dust like a dog. His face looks like parchment, that’s how white it is. Glassy eyes search for me as his wheezing breaths echo sharply in the clubhouse.