“B, calm down. It’s me.”
“Fuck off, Alfie!” I shout back, trying to get out of his grip.
Alfie was a 20-year-old that my brother took under his wing. We usually got along unless we got into moments like this where he obeyed my brother’s command regardless of how I felt about it. Alfie handed me his jacket to fully cover myself as I watched Casper on the ground with a bloody face and bruised body. Falling to my knees beside him, I was again taken and held back. I knew better than to scream or shout—that would only make it worse for Casper.
My brother looked at me with disgust. “I’ve tried to be open-minded about who you date, Bethany, but it becomes a problem when I hear around town that my little sister is being used like a fucking whore.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play stupid.”
“It’s not what you think.” I tried to sound calm, knowing that if I raised my voice or argued, he wouldn’t listen to a word I said.
“How do you know what I’m thinking?” Luca spat out.
Beside Luca was his right-hand man, Emilio, who stood watching. Being in the room with either was scary enough, but you could feel your soul leave your body when you were in both their presence. I’ve heard what they were capable of. My brother had no limits, and Emilio was his right-hand man for a reason.
Emilio just smirked and then nodded to a bloody Casper on the floor. “What do you want me to do with the kid?”
I hated it when I was treated like this. Casper and I weren’t kids. Luca stood over Casper with no pity. Someone of his status wouldn’t be seen doing this or bother making an appearance when sending someone a message, but this was Chicago; my brother could be standing over a dead body holding the bloody knife, and no one would touch him.
Looking at me, Luca put the ball in my court, “B? What is a fitting punishment?”
Luca wasn’t asking because he was being sympathetic. It was his way of allowing me to fix a wrong or make a choice he would approve of.
I bow my head in defeat. “I don’t even know who he is. He’s just a stranger to me.”
Nodding his head, “Alfie, bring her to my car.”
As I was escorted away, I could hear my brother telling Emilio to have someone drop Casper to the hospital. That was my reward for agreeing to cut ties with my boyfriend altogether. I didn’t want to think about the alternative if I chose otherwise. Teary-eyed, I stood by the car in silence. As someone with everything at their feet, I often felt lonely.
“Come on, B,” Alfie said as he handed me my clothes. “Luca won’t hurt him. Just wants to scare him off.”
I turn my back to him. Next to my brother’s Bentley Continental was Emilio’s Audi R8 V10 Decennium, and Alfie’s Ducati Diavel 1260 was beside his. They came separately, which means this was a spontaneous visit and not planned.
“Whose big mouth spoiled it?” I demanded as I put on my bra and shirt.
“You know that’s above my pay grade,” Alfie replied.
I turn around to face him. “You’re a good kid, Alfie. Why are you getting mixed up in this?”
Several times, I hit him with this question, but he must have been frustrated tonight.
He shot back with austerity, “I have no one, Bethany. I’m an orphan. Luca’s treated me like family more than any foster parent has. It doesn't bother me if that means getting my hands dirty. You might not realize it, but your brother is a good man—he turned my life around. You don’t have to see it the same way I do.”
“I see more in you than you give yourself credit for.”
“Alfie!” I hear Luca’s voice call him over. Quickly, Alfie left me to attend to my brother.
As Alfie walked away, Emilio approached me with a cigarette in his mouth. His cigarettes were specially made. He didn’t smell the part of someone who consistently smoked—instead, his scent was a mix of mint and eucalyptus. There was something about him that stirred an odd emotion within me. I wasn’t sure if I was scared of him or intrigued. That’s always been the case with him. He dressed well, as always, with a look in his eyes as though he was ready to set the city on fire at any moment.
Emilio has been with the family for as long as I can remember. I was ten years old when I first met him, and I remember he wasn’t like everyone else. Growing up in a comfortable lifestyle surrounded by the same social status level of people, Emilio had an edge that was new to me. At first, it scared me but eventually I warmed up to him. He dressed ruggedly and spoke differently. My mother told me that’s how people from the Southside of Chicago are. They were not bad people; they were just tougher and had more street smarts. Now, Emilio is dressed in the best suits, yet he still has never lost that edge. He was an asset to the DeCarlo Family, and even I knew his word held more weight than mine. The scar that cut through his left eyebrow intensified his demeanor. Emilio is one of those men you instantly know not to mess with.
“Why the long face, Bethany?” he asked. Emilio was the only person close to me who never called me by a nickname. It was always a formal Bethany.
“Is that a serious question?” I spat out.
“You shouldn’t be surprised by this anymore.” Emilio lit up the cigarette in his mouth.
