Chapter 11: Broken Rules: Chapter 11

Frank waits outside the house with a glass of whiskey and a cigar. He stands at the top of the concrete steps, his face impassive as he watches the Dodge park by the three-space garage. Beside him, like an oversized statue, stands Adam.

Luca keeps the engine running when Dante leaves to let Aaron out of the trunk.

“Thank you.” I say, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

He flips the lights on, illuminating the confined space, then turns around, gracing me with a tight-lipped nod.

“Let me go!” Aaron screams outside.

I open the door when Dante shoves him to the ground, and makes him kneel on the gravel, aiming a gun at the back of his head.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” he clips.

Aaron falls silent once he notices my father descending the steps, gracing him with his signature you’re-worth-less-than-shit-on-my-shoe look before he raises his gaze to the man standing behind him. Instead of disdain or irritation, Frankie looks at Dante with respect.

“It was supposed to be a gift,” he says, eyeing Aaron with a menacing scowl. “It’s not wrapped, and you fucking broke it,” he chuckles, clasping his hand with Dante, a rare, genuine smile on his lips.

My eyebrows shoot up.

Frank is . He never jokes around. It’s been months since he smiled. After everything he told me about Dante, I expected a much colder, hateful greeting, but they shook hands like the dearest of friends. No snarky remarks or threats… it almost looks as if my father is happy to see Dante as if he missed him.

Mafia men and their stupid code of honor.

Frank flicks his wrist—a silent order for Adam. Ten seconds later, Aaron’s locked in the trunk again, but he’s not fighting or screaming this time. I don’t dare defend him in front of Frank. Harsh consequences would follow for such deliberate insubordination.

Frankie moves his gaze from Dante to me, eyes roving my face with mild interest. “You good?” He never cares about my well-being, so his concern, however fake, is surprising.

“I’m okay.”

“Then goodnight,” he says, insinuating that the rest of their conversation isn’t meant for my ears.

I spin around, looking at Dante. “Thank you.”

“Goodnight, Star.”

I spend the better part of Saturday waiting for Frank to come home so I can tell him about my plans for the evening. Dante earned an ounce of my trust last night, muting Frank’s arguments. I’m sure he’ll try to talk me out of seeing Dante, but I’m not changing my mind. I know what I’m doing; either he trusts me, or I prove him wrong without his blessing.

I open my closet, skimming the contents, looking for something I could wear tonight, but nothing stands out. I take my phone, dialing Allie’s number. “How busy are you?”

“Not very. Why?” she asks.

“You need to help me get ready for tonight. Can you please come over?”

“Another date with Aaron?!” she screams in my ear. “How was it last night? Tell me everything! No! Don’t tell me anything. I’ll be there in twenty! Make me some coffee.”

I collapse on the bed, sinking between a dozen fluffy pillows. Convincing Allie that Dante and I are a good idea might be more challenging than convincing Frank to let me out tonight. Her opinion’s irrelevant, but I’d rather not lose her friendship if it can even be considered that. Genuine or fake, she’s the only friend I’ve got.

She arrives, as promised, with two minutes to spare and a few trunks full of make-up and hair supplies. “So? Did Aaron pass the test?” She snatches a steaming cup of coffee from the table. “Go on! Tell me ! Did you guys hook up?”

“It’s not Aaron I want to look nice for tonight. Dante’s picking me up at eight.”

“Dante?” She pulls her eyebrows together. “Dante ? Like… how stupid are you, babe?! Layla, he’s your dad’s enemy. He’ll use you, and—”

“You don’t know the first thing about him. Stop trying to educate me. Just be happy that I’m happy. that I care about someone who cares about me too.”

“All he cares about is business. Stick with Aaron. I’m telling you, he’s handsome, polite, and not a threat to your dad!”

I roll up my sleeves, uncovering bruised wrists. “He tried to rape me last night, and later on, if it weren’t for one of Dante’s men, two junkies would’ve probably killed me.” I wipe the thick layer of concealer off my cheek, showing her the cuts. I almost threw up this morning when I saw my reflection and the dried blood that must’ve seeped from the wounds during the night because I cleaned up before falling asleep. “You should’ve seen Dante,” I say with a small smile. “He was so worried… so when he found out what Aaron tried to do.”

Allie rolls her eyes, but her face brightens with a tight-lipped smile. She jumps on the bed, patting the space beside her, and widens. “Do tell!” She listens while I gush about my relationship with Dante so far, her cheeks pink, eyes wide. “Okay. Let’s say I  won’t give you a hard time for choosing the biggest criminal in like the of Chicago, apart from your dad, as your new boyfriend. I won’t mention all the reasons he has to kill you, either. What’s in it for me?”

“My eternal gratitude and the canvas that is my face at your disposal whenever you feel like practicing.”

She clicks her tongue, unappeased. “Nice, but I was actually thinking about something like free entry to Delta. I can’t get past security even if Adam’s not around.”

Dante won’t change his mind about that, but there’s no harm in asking. Especially if it means getting Allie off my back. “I’ll see what I can do. Now, can you please tell me what I should wear? Nothing too out there. And it has to cover my bruised wrists and my scraped knee. Oh, and can you do something about this?” I point to my neck, where Aaron’s fingers marked my skin with ghastly, green bruises.

Allie narrows her eyes. “You got a snowsuit?”

I hurl a pillow at her when she hops off the bed and starts rummaging through my closet. Twenty minutes of back and forth later, we settle on a fitted green dress and cover the scraped knee with concealer.

She gives me a pair of black heeled boots, then points at the chair in front of the mirror. “I’d love to cut it all off,” she mutters, toying with my locks. “Short, asymmetrical bobs are like thing now.”

“I like my hair. I’ve been growing it out for four years.”

Half an hour later, a stylish bun appears at the back of my head, held in place by a single, long pin. After a long, unnecessary discussion, my make-up is kept to a minimum—concealer and mascara. I don’t like flashy make-up. Jess is the queen of the porn-star look. I’d rather not resemble her in any way.

“Hey, does Frankie know you’re off with Dante?”

“Not yet.” He left before I woke up and hasn’t returned since, as if he’s purposely avoiding me. “I’ve been waiting for him all day.”

“He’s downstairs. He was here when I came in.”

My palms sweat as I leave my bedroom, almost flying down the stairs. Frank sits at the antique desk in his office, surrounded by thick clouds of cigar smoke. He’s wearing a charcoal suit today, looking unapproachable. Women eye him up at every party hosted at our house, but Frank doesn’t care about them. He doesn’t even care about Jess.

Black curtains behind his back hide a large window, the only source of light in the room coming from a small desk lamp. Tall bookcases cover the left wall; old books, folders, and pictures of Frank with influential people fill the shelves.

I stop by the large, mahogany desk, hands behind my back so he can’t see I’m picking my nails. “Dante’s taking me out tonight. You can send Burly with me, but I am going.”

“I know.” He puffs out smoke through his nose like an enraged bull, eyeing me from head to toe to check if I look presentable. “He told me about it last night.” He glances over my shoulder, his jaw working.

I don’t need to check who lingers outside the door, listening to our every word. There’s only one person around, courageous enough to openly spy on us. In character I get, dropping a few questions I want answering, for now.

“I won’t lock you up,” Frank continues. “If you want to keep seeing Carrow, then do so, but keep your mouth shut, Layla. My business is just that. It’s .”

“I thought you’d be mad…” I say, aiming for disbelief. I think I nailed it. My acting skills are nonexistent so thank God Jess is the only one who has to witness the show.

“Do I look happy? What more can I do? You’re young, naïve, and you think you’re in love. And Dante’s… as you mentioned…

. He made it clear last night that he won’t back down.”

? He got ahead of himself there but convincing him otherwise is impossible. Frank always knows best.

“He’s very possessive of you,” he says, his expression puzzled like he can’t understand why anyone would want me. “I don’t trust him, Layla. You shouldn’t either. Now, listen, and listen well because I’ll only say this once.” He swallows hard, his eyes softening while his tone remains clipped. “If you leave with him tonight, you’re on your own. I mean it, Layla. If things go south, don’t count on me. I won’t help you. Is that clear?”

One sentence plants a seed of doubt in my head. Does he mean it? Is this a warning? A test? No, he can’t mean it… surely, it’s all just for show.

I trust Dante, or at least I want to trust him but knowing no one will come to my rescue makes following my instinct that much harder. Then again, it wasn’t Frank helping me last night.

“I’ll remember that.” I bow low, mocking Adam.

Jess hooks her arm with mine when I step outside the office. “Don’t worry. He’s all talk, Layla. Besides…” she lowers her voice, “Dante’s so hot even I’d have a hard time resisting the man.”

I cringe at the mere thought of Jess and Dante together. I wriggle out of her embrace, walking back to the kitchen where Allie waits, holding my phone out for me.

“You’ve got a text from Prince Charming.”

“And you read it.”

Dante: Rookie will pick you up at eight, Star. He’ll take you to my place, and I’ll meet you there soon. Make yourself at home.

Growing up with a mafia boss for a father, I learned that evening meetings are the norm in their line of work. They don’t do business lunches like the working class. Allie heads home when Rookie enters the driveway at eight o’clock sharp.

“Dante went to get even with Cannon and Loki. Spades was hunting them all day but only found them half an hour ago,” he explains when I take the passenger seat.

Frank keeps his business private, so I expected nothing less from Dante. Honesty is refreshing.

“Is Spades his right-hand man?”

Rookie starts the engine, casually resting his elbow on the armrest and leaning toward the car’s center. “Spades and Nate.” He smiles a boyish smile, the ivory skin contrasting sharply with almost black eyes and long eyelashes. “As you probably noticed by now, I’m his favorite driver. You met Luca last night, and there’s also Cai and Jackson. We’re the main entourage. You’ll meet everyone tonight. We gather in Delta with our girls on Saturdays for a few drinks.”

My outfit leaves a lot to be desired if I’m to meet their girls. My mother and Allie are excellent examples of what a mafia woman should look like—flawless hair, make-up, and revealing dresses. My long sleeve knitted dress is best suited for a nerdy schoolgirl. I should’ve let Allie try out the flashier make-up options.

“How did you convince your father to let you go without Burly?” Rookie asks, toying with his lip piercing.

We speed through the city more than a hundred miles an hour and whizz past a cop car, but they don’t follow. Dante must own the cops down South just like Frank owns those up North.

“It didn’t take much. I’ve been erased from the list of things Frankie cares about. If you lock me up, Daddy won’t come to my rescue.”

Rookie smirks, shaking his head as if dealing with a misbehaving child. “I wonder when you’ll realize that Dante wouldn’t have freaked out last night if he wanted to use you.”

“I see news travels fast.”

“You’d be surprised… you clean up well, though. Luca says they roughed you up pretty badly.”

Those weren’t the words he used yesterday while on the phone with Dante. He played it down as if he didn’t want his boss to see me.

“Why, thank you. I guess Dante’s reaction last night was out of the ordinary?”

“Hold on to something,” he orders.

I grab the seat when the lights change at the junction ahead. Instead of braking, Rookie slams the gas, turning the wheel left to send the car flying sideways.

My heart pumps blood faster when a healthy adrenaline rush shoots through my nervous system. I’m buzzing, eyes wide, lips parted. Rookie looks unaffected, as if we hadn’t just drifted through a busy junction in the heart of Chicago.

“Again!” I cry out, digging my fingers into the seat.

Rookie chuckles, fulfilling my wish at the next traffic light. “You make for a fun passenger, but don’t mention it to Dante. He’d have my balls if he knew I’m endangering you.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not the type to kiss and tell.”

Ten minutes later, he parks the car outside of Dante’s two-storey, modern, all-glass house. “Going back to your questions, Dante acted very unlike himself last night and still acts odd today. Cai, Jackson, and Luca take care of the dirty work.”

“He doesn’t like getting his hands dirty?”

“Definitely not.” Rookie taps a code on the control panel outside the main door, disarming the alarm. “I’ll see you at ten.” He turns around, leaving me alone in the empty house.

I switch the lights on, crossing the short entryway that opens onto the spacious living room. Dante’s leather jacket hangs over the back of the couch, representing the only misplaced thing in the otherwise tidy space. His cologne mixes with cigarette smoke in the air, making me feel at home as I take a moment to search through the CDs before deciding on Kaleo. “No Good” plays from the speakers as I dance toward the bar to make myself a drink.