a party cruise

FRANCESCA

“THAT’S IT,” ~Nonna~ says. “Does it hurt?”

I shake my head, mumbling a “no” as I take in my reflection. I look stunning. My eyes are rimmed with black eyeliner and my lips are painted a bold red, matching my dress.

Large hoop earrings swing from my ears and glitter sparkles everywhere. I don’t look upset anymore.

“Oh my god,” Amalia exclaims. “You look stunning.”

~Nonna~ grins. “It’s my masterpiece, sweetheart.”

“Did you know that ~Nonna~ did my makeup for my wedding? I looked so good that Alessandro couldn’t take his eyes off me. It was both hilarious and sexy.” She chuckles.

I smile. “I was at your wedding with my family. You looked stunning.”

~Nonna~ places her hands on my shoulders. “And so do you, sweetheart. I promise you, Toni won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

“Isn’t her dress a bit too revealing?” Gianna suddenly pipes up, fiddling with the sleeves of her long, white dress. “It’s nice, but it’s like she’s asking to be assaulted or hurt, especially with a slit that big. Your husband surely won’t approve.”

~Nonna~ gives Gianna a sweet smile. “She has her husband to protect her.” ~Unlike some people~. The words hang in the air, unspoken.

I hide my grimace at the mention of my husband. I know he won’t let anyone touch me. That would hurt his ego, so I’m safe from others.

“He’s not going to be around her all the time. He’s going to be busy with other whor—people,” Gianna says.

But ~Nonna~ cuts me off before I can say anything. “My boy is smart. He knows what to do and when. Francesca is beautiful, but she only dresses up for her husband.

“Showing her off would be his pleasure. He doesn’t need other women to flaunt his status unlike some people we both know.”

Gianna doesn’t say anything more, but I can see that she doesn’t like being put in her place. Gianna isn’t a bad woman. It’s her husband that makes her act like this.

I can only guess that Gianna knows her husband has his eye on me. I’m not oblivious to his gazes either, but she needs to understand that I would never reciprocate.

I’m a married woman, and despite all the issues with my husband right now, I would never betray him. The mere thought disgusts me.

A knock sounds at the door. “They are ready to leave.”

I stand up along with Amalia. She hands me my purse and grabs hers as well. ~Nonna~ bids us goodbye as we leave.

I can’t help but pause at the balcony of the staircase. Antonio is down there. I’m going to see him for the first time since our fight.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Amalia asks, confused.

She’s wearing a baby-pink dress that reaches her shins with large heels that make her look even taller than she is. It hides her small baby bump.

“Nothing,” I tell her.

“Trouble in paradise?” she asks with a smile.

Gianna snorts behind me. I roll my eyes at her childish behavior. I’m getting tired of her.

“Can you stop?” Amalia snaps. “Francesca hasn’t done anything to you. Why don’t you hand—”

Gianna sneers. “First you befriended me because I was the underboss’s wife, but now that she is here, you forget me. I say you’re the real bitch around here.”

Amalia rolls her eyes. “You just see everything negatively. How about I tell the underboss that you swore?”

I clench my hand, irritated. “No one is telling anyone anything,” I snap.

They turn to me in surprise. I understand why. I sound very aggressive, but I can’t help it. I can’t get Antonio out of my head, and their bickering is like bees buzzing in my ears.

“This is our problem, and we will solve it ourselves. I’m sure we are capable enough of doing that at least,” I tell them.

They don’t say anything.

“Good. It’s settled then. For now, let’s all just head down peacefully. This is an important event, and I don’t need everyone to know about our conflicts.”

They nod despite their clear annoyance, but I’m relieved that they don’t argue. I don’t need any more on my plate than I already have. I don’t even know how I got stuck with this problem.

I walk past them and down the stairs. The lights are dimmed, creating a romantic atmosphere.

My heels click against the marble stairs, and all attention snaps to me and the other two girls a step behind me. Gianna stands to my right, and Amalia stands to my left.

I see him first, standing with Alessandro and Pietro. He’s wearing an all-black three-piece suit with a black tie. His hair is pushed back, and he’s clean-shaven.

My husband wears his signet ring on his right hand, signifying that he’s the Don, and his wedding ring on his left hand. They both glisten and catch the light.

Other than the rings, he has a golden diamond watch on. This party has all five Families. One needs to show off one’s power.

Then I notice the other men who are in the room. They’re coming with us. I smile at him for show. I can’t exactly tell everyone about our problems. Whatever happens stays between us.

I step down the stairs and wrap my arm around his softly. He doesn’t push me away, and I didn’t expect him to. From what I’ve learned, he doesn’t like others knowing his personal matters either.

Amalia instantly walks into the arms of Alessandro, and he puts a hand on her back. Gianna just gets pushed away by Pietro. I can’t help but feel bad. It really isn’t her fault.

“~Bambola~,” my husband murmurs, his breath tickling my earlobe as he plants a soft kiss there. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

When I look up at him, he’s already gazing back at me.

***

I can’t help but gasp at the sight of the yacht bobbing in front of me.

He wraps his arm around my waist. “Do you like it?”

I nod, speechless.

“We have many boats in America,” he says. The yacht is large and white, floating at the water’s edge.

Our bodyguards are busy blocking the paparazzi as we approach the ship. It feels like we’re on the red carpet in Hollywood.

The yacht is filled with movie stars, mobsters, businessmen, ministers, and basically all the rich people from all over the world, gathered here in Italy.

“Do they all know?” I ask him quietly.

Antonio gets it right away. “Everyone here knows it’s hosted by organized crime, but no one knows it’s a peace meeting between the five Families of New York,” he explains.

I nod.

Security doesn’t stop our group when we walk in. They know who we are, but we all have to leave our guns behind before we walk through a scanner, going undetected as expected.

Antonio and I step inside the yacht. He doesn’t bother following the signs that lead to the party. There are beautiful women on either side, guiding guests to the party hall.

Antonio just knows where to go.

The grandeur of the place hits me as soon as we step inside. The golden light and beige couches fill the large hall.

There are gold spiral staircases with red brass stanchions to the right and left, with guards preventing people from entering. I glance up and see two floors where one could look down at the party floor.

Several sparkling white chandeliers hang from the ceiling. They alone must’ve cost millions.

The people already there are bustling around, talking and laughing until they notice us. Silence falls, with only a light buzz of whispers. I grip Antonio’s arm tighter as eyes fall on us.

“Is that Mr. Giordano?” I hear a whisper. “The woman by his side is gorgeous.” I keep my face neutral even though I want to thank whoever said that.

Antonio walks down the steps and into the room. People make space for us. The guard opens the barricade without question and lets us—the underboss and consigliere as well—pass upstairs.

I pick up my dress and walk up with his hand still in mine. I barely get a glimpse of Gianna and Amalia staying downstairs. Why am I allowed upstairs?

The ship is large, but the cushions in the luxury area stand out the most. This is like a VIP area. We aren’t even on the top floor and not a single soul is here.

Antonio leads us to the couches in the corner. People’s loud voices start booming again downstairs. The music is a bit loud, but it’s soothing at the same time. It gives the place a nice vibe.

I wonder if the police have tried to bug the place. It’s a possibility.

“Mr. Giordano!” a man greets us as he stands up. “Long time no see.” He looks at me and tilts his head to the side in curiosity. “Beautiful woman you’ve got there.”

My husband’s hand wraps around my waist tightly. “I know,” he replies.

I return a small, professional nod to the man. Antonio and I sit down on a large, separate couch.

Even though there’s a lot of space, the other rich associates choose to cram themselves onto the other couches. Alessandro and Pietro sit beside Antonio, however.

The men start talking business. There are occasional glances at me, but when Antonio doesn’t object to me sitting there, they stop looking at me and talk slowly but surely.

The man who called me beautiful is named Joseph Ricco. He’s the Don of the Ricco Family.

The Ricco Family isn’t as big as the Giordano, Bianchi, or Lambardi Families. The Ricco and Fiorentino Families are smaller, but influential.

Antonio and he are talking about earning billions from illegal construction. Obviously, they speak in code. Things begin to change when the loud chatter coming from below lowers.

I look down at the glass railing beside me. Antonio notices too. He leans away from Don Ricco.

My breath hitches as he leans against me on the couch to glance down. I don’t lean back as my breath fans his ear.

If he tilts his head a little, then our lips would meet. I look away, his betrayal coming to light in my mind again.

Pietro stands up and leans against the railing, gripping it stiffly. “The Bianchis,” he says, looking back at my husband.

I feel Antonio wrap a protective arm around my waist. He pulls me closer so that his lips are at my ear.

“You’ll stay with me,” he tells me, before pressing a soft kiss on my earlobe. I feel my heart leap but I don’t show him any reaction.

I nod, surprised that he’s letting me be with him. I should’ve been down with the other women.

I shouldn’t have been that surprised though, because Antonio has let me in on meetings before, but this is serious.

Before, it was because I’d barged in and he didn’t want to insult me by telling me to leave. I was grateful for that.

The chatter starts again as the new Mafia Family makes their way upstairs. Everyone stands, other than my husband and me. He places a hand on my thigh and rubs circles on it.

There are five people: four men and one woman with a younger man’s arm wrapped around her. I know there are more of them downstairs, mingling with businessmen and acting casual just like our men.

The woman is blonde with striking, stormy blue eyes. She’s tall, but the man beside her is taller, easily passing six feet. The wedding ring on her finger tells me that she’s his wife.

The man has dark brown hair and black eyes. He has high cheekbones and a firm, annoyed look on his face, as if he has better things to do than be in this meeting.

However, the man carries an aura of dominance, just like my husband does, and the two sidekicks beside him tell me that they’re his consigliere and underboss. He seems familiar.

Vincent Bianchi, I remember Antonio saying. He’s the Don of the Bianchi Family, and one of the youngest dons in history.

“Bianchi,” my husband acknowledges him with a curt nod.

Vincent Bianchi returns the gesture. “Giordano,” he replies. The woman at his side clings to his arm, her grip tight as if she’s trying to warn him of something. I hide my confusion. What’s got him so riled up?

As Bianchi settles onto the couch across from us, the room’s atmosphere grows tense.

“Anyone for wine?” Joseph Ricco offers, a hint of laughter in his voice as a woman enters, pushing a trolley.

“Have the Lambardis and Fiorentinos arrived?” a man from the Bianchi Family inquires.

My husband tilts his head towards me, and I instinctively move closer. My hand finds his on my thigh.

“That’s Vincent Bianchi,” he murmurs in my ear. “The woman with him is Angelina, his wife.”

I nod. “Which ones are the consigliere and underboss among those two?” I whisper back. It’s the first thing I’ve said to him all day.

“The skinny one is Danilo. He’s the consigliere. The other is Maximus, the underboss,” he clarifies.

I nod again, my gaze shifting to the thin, middle-aged man seated next to Don Bianchi and the muscular guy standing off to the side.

The tense silence among the three Families is shattered when the Lambardi Family makes their entrance.

The room is a whirlwind of activity, and I get the distinct feeling that this meeting isn’t going to be as peaceful as it seems.

There’s more at stake here.

***

Once everyone is on board, the ship begins to move. I know we won’t be staying the night. None of us brought luggage.

When Antonio rises and takes my hand, I realize we’re heading to the top floor. I don’t want to go with him. I don’t want to be involved in any of this.

The Lambardi Family’s late arrival earns them a harsh glare from both Antonio and Vincent Bianchi.

“Well, well, well. Everyone’s here in one piece,” Gino Fiorentino jests.

No one laughs.

Gino Fiorentino is the Don of the Fiorentino Family. He’s in his late forties, with laugh lines etched into his face. He’s a jovial man, always smiling.

Luciano Lambardi, the Don of the Lambardi Family, is an older man, likely in his sixties.

That means he’s got more experience than the rest of us. And with experience comes wisdom. He’s accompanied by his son, Franco.

I don’t sit next to my husband at the long table. Besides me, Angelina is the only other woman. I’m at a loss for words when she comes over and takes a seat next to me on the couch in the corner.

The men from the five Families gather around a large round table in the center of the boardroom. I’m not even sure why we’re here.

We shouldn’t be here, but no one has challenged Antonio and Vincent. They’re the driving forces behind the ~Nostra Vita~.

Once everyone is settled, my husband speaks up. “Let’s begin.”