Chapter One

Clelia

Staying up all night waiting for my brother is getting on my nerves. This isn’t the first time he’s stumbled in at the crack of dawn smelling of liquor and the perfume of loose women with questionable values.

But of course, he doesn’t care how much I worry about him.

My father claims that it’s just a phase he’s going through, that all young men must blow off some steam, but I’m not convinced. His mood swings are getting increasingly unpredictable, and driving home drunk is something he does too often―to my chagrin.

I always jump out of my skin when I hear his car squealing to a stop in the driveway. Losing our mother sent him into a tailspin, and I can’t always be the voice of reason.

But my brother is not the only one I’m worrying about. My father is also falling apart before my eyes. There isn’t a moment where he doesn’t have a drink in his hand. The photograph of my mother is tear-stained from his pining in the middle of the night for something he can’t have.

The house is desolate, and the only sound anyone can hear is the clock down the hallway.  It was a wedding gift from my father to my mother. She didn’t want to admit it, but she told me in confidence it was garishly ugly. It’s the thought that counts, though. He’s never been good at finding the right gift.

However, I don’t have time to grieve when my family demands my full attention. I can’t follow them around twenty-four hours a day, but I can be there when they walk in, ashamed of whatever they’re doing. The guilt is in their eyes―they look at their shoes, afraid to look at me. And even though I really disapprove of their ways, I know that it’s not fair to judge them.

They have every right to lash out, even in ways I don’t approve.

I’ve considered talking to them about going into family therapy, but I’m not sure how they’ll receive it. They know I fret. The world is a dangerous place, especially when someone is under the influence of alcohol. Who knows what could happen to them?

My white terrycloth robe is cinched tight at the waist. I toy with the strap nervously, pacing at the front door. The sun is already up, and I can hear the birds singing in the trees.

I catch my reflection in the glass of the door and I almost don’t recognize myself. It shows a woman older than her twenty-four years. The haggard expression is reserved for mothers waiting for their children to come home after a late night. I don’t want to be a replacement for my mother, but they leave me little choice.

A powerful engine approaches and comes to an abrupt stop at the door. Lucas is home, and it’s a miracle that he managed to arrive in one piece. That’s evident by the tire tracks on the lawn. The red sports car is angled with the wheels digging into the earth.

I open the door and wait impatiently with my arms crossed. Boy, he is about to get scolded…

Lucas Stephens is walking a dangerous path. Life is harsh, but he’s the only one that can make his own happiness. Drowning himself in alcohol, thinking that he will be able to forget our misfortunes, won’t help him. He doesn’t understand the concept, but I continue to preach responsibility and obligation to the family, just in case someone hears my pleas.

He walks towards me, unsteady on his feet. He’s barely able to hold onto the empty beer can clutched in his fist. He almost falls but manages to hold onto the car to steady himself, though he doesn’t lose hold of the can.

This is as bad as I’ve ever seen him. Maybe he needs to fall deeper into a dark hole before he can crawl back out of it. They say hitting rock bottom is the only way an alcoholic is going to learn. I’m not sure that I want to wait when it already kills me to see him losing everything, including his girlfriend.

“Do I even want to ask where you’ve been?” I ask sternly.

“I’m not in the mood for one of your lectures, dear baby sister. Besides, I should be frowning at you! Why didn’t you pick up your phone? I’ve been trying to call you all night. It just continues to go to voicemail,” he replies with his words slurring, while he runs his fingers through his hair awkwardly like a child who’s done mischief.

He’s not the usual polished young man, coming home after a hard day’s work.

“Look at yourself,” I refer to the white shirt hanging loosely over his pants with his zipper half undone.

There are lipstick marks on his cheek and neck, with the pungent aroma of perfume surrounding him in a halo. He’s lost a shoe, and his sleeves are rolled up to the elbow. His blond, gray hair is in disarray, with a few locks floating aimlessly over his dark blue eyes.

“I don’t need you looking at me like that. I tried to reach you,” he continues while draining the last few drops from the beer can.

“Couldn’t you call in our home number? My phone went dead. It’s currently charging in my bedroom. Do you have any idea of how long I’ve been up? I’m ready to wash my hands of you,” I say, rolling my eyes in frustration.

“Don’t give me that attitude,” he says before dropping the can at my feet with the remnants dripping onto my bare toes.

I take a deep breath and try desperately to hold my tongue. “I made sure there’s coffee ready for you when you came home. Drink some and take a shower before we discuss anything that you want. You stink,” I say with my finger pointing into his chest to get his undivided attention.

“Clelia, I don’t need coffee or a shower. What I need is another drink. Something stronger than beer. I’m sure father has something at the bar,” he says while stumbling into the living room until he falls to his knees, mumbling something under his breath.

“I’m not taking no for an answer. You need to sober up and take a shower before father comes home,” I add.

He glances over his shoulder, and I see tears in his eyes. Oh my God, what has happened?

“I needed you this night. I was the one that had to identify his body in that cold, impersonal morgue. Do you have any idea what seeing him like that did to me?” Lucas says.

He’s crawling now across the carpet toward the bar, and I can hear my heart thumping.

“I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” I say. In truth, I’m afraid that once I do, my whole world will change again.

I’m standing in front of him, blocking his path to the bottle of bourbon.

“He was found on the street like a stray dog. My number was the latest call on his phone. They called me,” he said with his finger pointing at his chest while trying to keep his head high.

“Who was found on the street?” I inquire with my eyes narrowed, trying to calm myself down, trying to make myself believe that it is not my worst fear coming alive.

I’m staring daggers at him.

“He died of blunt trauma to the head, just one block over from the Leonessa Strip Club. You know he hasn’t been able to stay away from the place. It was just a matter of time before somebody saw him as an easy mark,” Lucas says.

The realization of what he’s been trying to say strikes me like lightning. It can’t be true. I just saw him yesterday afternoon. We had a horrible argument about his drinking and carousing all hours of the day and night.

These habits of his aren’t just affecting the family, but he’s also losing respect from his peers. Our small candy factory is suffering, and several creditors are already knocking on the door.

“No Lucas, no…you have to be mistaken. Father cannot be dead. Why would you be so cruel, as to say such things to me?”

“I saw him with my own eyes lying there, Clelia―lifeless. I had warned him many times about going to Leonessa. I truly did! You just know Constantino Negrini had something to do with this. That man is a danger to everybody around him,” he says while looking up at me.

“Oh my God…you’re telling the truth.” The full weight of his words is finally sinking in, and the name Lucas mentions has come out of many people’s nightmares.

Constantino Negrini, owner of the Leonessa Strip Club and many more illicit businesses. His reputation isn’t good, but nothing ever sticks to him. He’s been arrested a few times but has good lawyers on a retainer. Any crime connected to him isn’t all that surprising. The man is the devil personified. Not much is known about his background, and he’s been the subject of several investigations already. They even raided his home and club but found nothing to incriminate him.

Police officers lost their jobs when they came back empty-handed, and now, Lucas tells me that he must be involved in my father’s death…

Losing my mother feels like it happened yesterday, but thirteen years have passed. On the anniversary of her death, my family begins to unravel. My father’s trips to the strip club and gambling have racked up some good, fat debts. I’m not sure, but I think he got into bed with the wrong people using our candy factory to help smuggle goods in and out of the country. There’s no concrete proof, and my father was reluctant to talk about it despite my growing concerns. And now these concerns seem to have become reality.

I fall back against the wall with my hand to my beating heart.

“I think it was murder.”

“What?” I stare at him. “Murder? Who would want to murder father? He was a good man.”

Lucas gives a lopsided shrug and rises to his feet.

“You know what people will do when they’re giving out punishment. It can often go too far, and then they panic.”

“What are you talking about?”

For a while, I think that my brother didn’t hear me. Lucas stands staring into the void.

“Lucas, talk to me. What are you talking about?”

“I know who killed our father. He’s said as much to my face before. And with his temper…” Lucas turns, his reddened eyes locking with mine. “I never thought he would carry it out, though. I thought it was just talk to frighten us.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“It was Constantino Negrini.” Lucas blinks a few times and then looks away, rubbing his eyes hard.

“This is the second time that you are mentioning him. Why would the owner of a club murder father? What would he gain from that?”

“Non-payment of debts.”

“But father always tried to pay his debts.”

Lucas grunts.

“He doesn’t always tell you everything, Clelia. Father was in more debt than you realize. And he refused to accept it until Negrini addressed it. Negrini threatened to do some damage to him if he didn’t pay it last night. Now look what’s happened.”

Constantino Negrini. My father’s murderer. Even as that sinks in, I can feel a part of me fighting that logic.

“A club owner wouldn’t murder someone simply because he owes them money.”

“You don’t know Constantino Negrini,” Lucas says darkly. “He’s a very vindictive, hot-tempered man. He’ll do anything to get his own way, and he’s always close to snapping.”

“But to murder a man because of an unpaid debt…”

“He is a mafia boss, Clelia. A Don, a mobster.” Lucas shakes his head and runs his hands through his hair, making it stand up on end. “I warned father that we shouldn’t be going there anymore, but father said he could handle it. He always thought he could handle it.” He begins to shake, and then he starts towards the door. “Excuse me, Clelia, but I…I need to be alone.”

I stare after him as my brother leaves, the door slamming behind him hard enough to make the vase on a nearby table topple off and smash to pieces on the floor.

Constantino

It’s not my proudest moment, but it had to be done. Nobody disrespects me, and I don’t care what their family name invokes in others.

I use one of my monogrammed handkerchiefs to open the door with my hands covered in blood.

It’s not my own, but sometimes business needs me to take a more personal approach. The look in the man’s eyes was priceless. He tried to barter for his life, but he should have thought about that before double crossing me. Backing out of a business deal is one thing. Selling my merchandise to the Russians thinking that they can get away with it, is something completely different.

His blood stains my soul, but it’s not the first time. I’ve had to make an example out of somebody, and even though I’m not usually the one to get my hands dirty anymore, I’m willing to make some exceptions to the rule.

He’s not dead, but he wishes he was.

The house is quiet when I enter. Nobody is there to greet me, and I go straight to the bathroom underneath the stairs to wash up.

Watching the blood flow down the drain is a cathartic exercise, but it doesn’t wash away the sin. Nothing ever will, because everybody needs to know about what happens when they cross me.

Upstairs I hear my boy scream. I clutch my fist while staring at my cold dead eyes reflected in the mirror.

“That little bastard,” I mutter. I thought it was going to be different this time. He promised me he would be on his best behavior.

Can it be that I’m asking too much of him? I know that he’s never been the same since his mother left. I cannot fill that void, but I give him everything and I’m trying to keep him busy and entertained 24/7. Apparently, it’s not enough.

Otello is a difficult child with tantrums, and extreme therapy has done little to curb his attitude. Of course, some doctor wouldn’t be able to get through to him that easily. He is my son after all. It’s in our Negrini blood to be defiant and demanding. I have to admit that I’m proud that he is not easy to manipulate, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s still a little boy who must learn discipline, manners, and patience.

I make myself presentable by running my hands through my hair, while inspecting my appearance in the mirror. Considering the day I had, I’m not looking that bad, however, I have to admit that dealing with traitors tires me more and more these days. Being in your thirties is supposed to be just a number, but every day I feel heavier from the responsibilities that I have. It doesn’t mean that I’m all work and no play, of course. Women flock to power, and I don’t mind a distraction from time to time. Now that I think about it, I might need a new toy to spend the night with later. I could certainly use some decompression.

I stretch my arms in the air and move my head back and forth. Well, fun will have to wait. The footsteps above me are moving quickly down the hall away from my little boy’s room, as I exit the bathroom. She’s not the first tutor to feel the sting of his words, and she probably won’t be the last.

“I don’t need this,” Maria shouts on her way down the stairs.

She’s frantically putting on her coat as a litany of Spanish words flow freely.

I know enough of the language to see that she’s cursing my boy under her breath. I could snap her neck for talking shit about my family, but knowing Otello, he might deserve it a little. Still, she should hold her tongue.

I place my hand in front of her to stop her forward momentum.

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” I say, wearing my stone-cold stare.

“You don’t think so, Sir? He kicked me and then spat in my face. I’ve been a teacher for almost fifteen years, and I’ve never encountered anyone like him. You need to put a muzzle on that kid before he hurts somebody,” she says with her nostrils flaring.

“Watch your mouth when you talk of my son, otherwise you will be searching for your precious little tongue. I won’t have you talking about my child like that. I’m sure we can come up with some kind of compensation.” I insult her then try to convince her to stay in the same breath.

“I know who you are and what you are capable Mr. Negrini, but that kid is the devil. What he needs is an exorcism. I’m leaving, and I never want to hear from you again. Keep your money, because I don’t want anything to do with it or your family,” she says with her hands in her pockets, throwing the cash I gave her last week at my feet.

She stares at my shoes with her eyes unblinking. I’m not sure why she has this reaction until I take a look myself. There’s blood on the tips, and she’s already halfway out the door before I get the chance to talk to her more.

“Everybody has a price. Name yours,” I call out after her.

“I’m sorry, but I have to think about my sanity. No amount of money will make me go back up there,” she says with the door slamming hard enough to make it echo throughout the house.

Oh, he is in trouble! I climb the stairs with my fingers gliding across the polished banister until I reach the top landing. I’m getting tired of having the same argument with my boy. I know exactly what he’s going to say the moment I step through the door.

Otello is sitting on his bed, legs crossed and arms folded, wearing his Scooby-Doo pajamas.

“What do you have to say for yourself, young man?” I address him with a stern expression.

“I want to go to school like other kids,” he says without moving.

His face is a mask of anger and resentment, and I can see our resemblance right there. Stubborn to the end like his father.

However, homeschooling is his only option, even if he is too young to understand why. I’m not just any man. People fear me by my reputation alone, and I have enemies willing to do anything to get to me. I cannot expose my own child to a world who is ready to bring me down by hurting him. I have committed my sins, and I happily live with them. But Otello must be protected.

“That is the fourth teacher you’ve run out of the house, and I’m losing my patience, young man. I will have none of it again, or the punishment will be severe. In the meantime, get dressed and meet me downstairs for breakfast. Tiffany will look after you while I take care of business,” I say as his eyes light up at the very notion of spending time with Tiffany. She is indeed a gorgeous woman, and it looks like my little man has refined tastes already.

I walk out into the hall, where I crack my knuckles and take a deep breath to calm the storm inside of me. There has to be somebody out there that can reach this kid. I’m just going to have to continue the search, but I don’t hold much hope.

He needs somebody with strict discipline, but most are afraid to speak to him harshly at the risk of displeasing me. It goes with the territory when I have the city in the palm of my hands. They should be afraid of me. They should cower in their boots, waiting for a kind word of praise from my lips.

Unfortunately, my business and reputation hurt my little boy. It kills me to see him acting up. I just can’t afford to take the risk of sending him to a regular school. He needs to be sheltered from the real world. There has to be a teacher out there worth their salt.

I’m damned and determined to find the person who will help my son.

Chapter Two

Clelia

I sit in the waiting room, leafing through old magazines, trying to pretend that the last few days have not been trying.

My brother is lashing out, but that’s not surprising. He doesn’t need an excuse to find the answers in a bottle or between the legs of a hooker.

The last time I saw him was at our father’s funeral. He stood there somber and wearing dark sunglasses. I tried to hold his hand, to find some comfort in his warmth, but he refused to accept my loving gesture.

Seeing my father laid to rest made me realize how important it is to find evidence against Constantino Negrini. What my brother said stuck with me, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Could it be true? Of course I know of his reputation, and I know now that my father owed him quite a lot. But was he important enough for an all-powerful mafia boss to bother care for him? Or even kill him? There are so many questions to be answered, but considering the Negrini name involvement, any rational person would stay away. Not me. I have to discover who killed my father, and I don’t care if I have to go to hell and back.

It’s not going to be easy. I’m going to need help to pull it off, and there’s only one person I can trust enough to have my back.

Thankfully my good friend Sonia made me an appointment to see her husband, Roberto. He’s a lawyer involved in the Negrini business and my key to unlock the truth. If anyone can help me with this it’s him.

The secretary motions for me from her desk while wearing hidden wireless earphones to answer the calls. She points down the hall, but I don’t need any further directions.

I hear Roberto having an argument over the phone before I enter. Clearly, he hasn’t noticed that I’m standing right there.

“The accounts will be shut down immediately. We have already covered this scenario, and they won’t find anything to pin insider trading on you. There’s no paper trail leading back to your doorstep, I told you a million times. Come in on Monday, and we’ll make arrangements for you and your family,” he says.

Roberto is standing at the window with his hands behind his back, seemingly talking into thin air.

He turns and places his hands on the mahogany desk. It’s old with coffee stains and fading polish, but it looks expensive. He looks powerful in his custom-tailored dark suit, but I know it’s an illusion to make people think he has all the answers. Actually, Roberto is a very caring father and a really loving husband. He could be considered a very good guy, if you take out the working with high-end criminals bit. I have to admit that sometimes, I envy the love and tenderness he shares with Sonia. I wish I had someone to care for me sometimes.

“Clelia, welcome! Please, accept my heartfelt condolences for what happened to Jonathan,” he says with his hand on his heart, and his statement pulls me out of my thoughts. My longing for a man can wait. I have a criminal to find first.

“That’s very kind of you Roberto, thank you. It’s really been a long couple of days,” I reply.

I’m referring to the funeral but also the reading of the will, which only served as one more blow to Lucas. The candy company and its holdings were trusted in me, while he was given a small share.

We have management in place to take care of the day-to-day dealings, but I’m eventually going to have to take my rightful place at the head of the table. There’s going to be some restructuring. The suggestions I mentioned to my father are going to be implemented sooner than later, and the dead weight will be cut out and excised like cancer until we’re profitable again. I only wish Lucas was by my side to help me. Instead, he despises me more by the day.

“I hope you know he did love you with all of his heart. He might not have been able to express it to you properly, but he did confide in me,” he says.

“Thank you so much Roberto. It means the world to me to hear that,” I answer. I really wish that I could hear my father telling me this. When I was a little girl, I used to sit in his lap, begging him to read me a fairytale. By the end of the story, I would usually fall asleep in his arms, and then he used to kiss my forehead and whisper “I love you.”

The memory that creeps in makes fidget in my chair, allowing the silence to become almost deafening. I would give anything to relive this moment. To have back the loving parent I once knew, but the truth is that I lost him even before he was killed. His own demons were too strong to battle. However, I always hoped that one day he would be the man I used to know.

“Um, Sonia mentioned this morning that you needed my help. I’m a little curious to know what that means. Are you thinking about changing lawyers?” Roberto adds with a lick of his lips. His statement pulls me from my thoughts and I remember why I am here.

“I was wondering what information you have about Constantino Negrini. I don’t want to know what I can read in the papers. You’ve been dealing with the family for quite some time by your own admission.” I address the elephant in the room.

“Constantino Negrini? You know that I can’t talk about a client Clelia, but please don’t tell me this has something to do with Lucas’s wild accusations. You shouldn’t believe everything he says,” he replies.

“Just tell me what you know about the family. It doesn’t matter how small or insignificant the detail is. I’m not asking you to share pertinent information about your business dealings with him. What is your impression of Constantino Negrini, as a person?” I inquire.

“Clelia cut the bullshit. I’m a lawyer; I’ve always been able to read between the lines. You’re hiding something from me. How long have we been friends? You’re our son’s godmother. Just tell me what you really want,” he urges.

On one hand I’m relieved. I really don’t want to beat around the bush, but on the other hand, I know that Roberto will think that I’m completely crazy.

“I’m talking about confronting him. Discovering what really happened. If he won’t come out and admit that he’s done wrong, I’m going to make him do it,” I say almost breathless.

Robert’s eyes widen. “You’re thinking of going to Leonessa and confronting him? You’ll be thrown out if you do that. You won’t be able to get anywhere near him if you go and cause a fuss at his business.”

“Actually, that’s not what I had in mind… I need a letter of recommendation from you to personally vouch for me, so that I can get close to Negrini. He is looking for a private tutor for his son. If he hires me, I will be close enough to discover if he had something to do with my father’s death. I can’t do this without you, Roberto.”

“What? Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds and what you’re risking when you’re found out? Because there is no way that Constantino won’t dig about you. Otello is the most precious thing in his life. Do you really think that he won’t do a thorough background check on you?” Robert huffs and puffs like I told him that I murdered his own mother.

“I know, and that’s why I came to you. You are the only one I know with access to people who can help me cover my tracks even for a little. I have to try something, Roberto.” I press a hand to my belly, my stomach churning. “Something is not right about this, and I want answers. The only way I’m going to get them is to get close to the man Lucas says is responsible. Please…”

“Clelia,” he exhales in frustration. “Jonathan meant the world to me and you know it. He treated me like a son, better than a son, and my obligation towards him is to protect you, not throw you into the wolves. Even if he is not responsible for your father’s death, Constantino Negrini is a very dangerous man, with many skeletons in his closet. You’re messing with someone you can’t handle,” Roberto adds.

“If you loved my father so much, then you wouldn’t want his death to go unpunished by covering up the one responsible,” I say ignoring his warnings or the fact that he is throwing daggers at me with his eyes. I know that I’m being cruel to him, but he is the only one who can help me.

Roberto sighs deeply and tampers with his tie. He looks more dishevelled than his usual polished self. His dark hair is always perfectly combed and his suit pressed to perfection.

“I still think this is a terrible idea, but I will give you the letter of recommendation. I will also contact my people to create online presence and legal papers. That will buy you some time,” once I hear the words, a huge weight is lifted off of my shoulders.

“But listen to me, Clelia. I said this before and I will say it again. Constantino is not a man to double cross. Some say he’s responsible for killing his wife and making her disappear. I don’t believe in water cooler gossip, but he is definitely a very dangerous man. You really need to be extra careful. Don’t provoke him openly, don’t get on his bad side. Try to be invisible,” Roberto says.

His suit jacket lies awkwardly over his chair, and his cuffs are unbuttoned on the white starched shirt. Those green eyes are hiding many secrets of powerful men. I’m happy that I have him on my side.

“Is there anything else you can tell me? I don’t want to go in there empty-handed. The more I know about Constantino and his family, the better,” I press him for more details, and it’s stretching the confines of our friendship.

“I’ve heard his son is wild and unpredictable. You’re going to have to be ready for anything. There’s a reason why he’s still looking for a teacher with the money he offers. Everybody he hires doesn’t last more than a few days, sometimes a few hours,” he replies.

He’s already handwriting the recommendation letter. It’s more personal that way instead of being generated on the computer. Roberto didn’t reveal much of anything, but I locked up every bit of information he gave me.

“I hope you know what you’re doing. He’s naturally suspicious about everybody. You can’t be too good to be true. He respects hard work and determination more than anything. He comes from humble beginnings and is still firmly rooted in the past. It’s the reason why I personally don’t think the rumors about his wife are true. You have my number on speed dial. Don’t hesitate to call me day or night,” Roberto advises.

He sits on the edge of his desk, playing with his class ring emblazoned with gold flecks. It’s from his days being the big man on campus. He was an athlete, but those days are far behind him.

“Thank you for the letter. I really appreciate your friendship during this time,” I say, my eyes conveying a sadness that penetrates deeply.

The letter is in my hand when I walk out of the office. It’s what I need to break into Constantino’s inner sanctum. I’m not going to give up, and this is the first step in finding out the truth.

That piece of paper is going to get me in the door. It’s only one part of my plan, but it’s a crucial piece of the puzzle. I quickly send a message to my brother while I’m walking to the elevator. My 4-inch heels click on the floors.

I type furiously. “I need some time away. What happened to our father has really hit me hard. I’m going to be out of touch. Don’t try to contact me. I’m turning off my phone and going someplace off-grid to figure out what to do next. Be well and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” I press send.

That will keep him from sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. I can’t afford for him to mess up what I’m trying to do. He’s my brother, but he can’t keep a secret to save his life. Recreational drugs and liquor can lead to loose lips at the most inopportune time.

You never know who might be listening, and for this, I need to work alone. I will find out the truth or die trying.

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