Chapter 46: Chapter 46

Chapter 46

ASH

Sixteen years ago.

Bonde hair cascades onto her neck and falls across her graceful shoulders. I look into blue eyes that are heavy with passion and want. Her lips are already swollen from my ministrations, and her body is naked and wantonly displayed under me. Seeing all this ignites the sensual lust in me. She wraps her hand around my neck and draws me even closer to take another sip from her lips. I can't get enough as I bend forward and drink to my heart's content.

My hands pave a hot pathway down her body and land in between her laps where I know she's already wet and ready to be taken. She stiffens against my hand inching into her wet folds and I look into her eyes questioningly.

"I need to tell you something."

She knows talking is the last thing on my mind, but I remove my hand from in between her laps, anyway, and lie on my back. I put a bit of space in between us so I can concentrate on whatever it is she has to tell me. I watch as she fidgets, her hands shake, but this isn't about lust now, it's clearly all about nerves.

What does she have to be nervous about? "Spit it out, Bell, I'm growing grey hairs here."

She scrunches up her face, and I know she's ready to talk. "It's Frank." She lets out a nervous breath.

"Frank who?" I allow irritation tinge my voice. I'm not in the mood for guess games.

"You know, Frank who works for your father."

"Wow, Bell, you wanna talk about Frank now, really?" I gesture to our naked bodies. "What - you got the hots for him?"

She shakes her head furtively. "He. . . he's been following me, telling me he likes me and wants us to be more than friends."

It's my turn to stiffen on hearing her words. I cock my head and turn to look at her. "Didn't you tell him you're mine?"

"I did." She says a little too defensively. "He told me you're gonna get married to Rita pretty soon so why do I have to stick to you and play second fiddle."

My blood boils on hearing her words. Frank knows Maybelline is my girlfriend. He's even seen us on several occasions about town, yet, he felt the need to update her about the Rita situation, just 'cause he's got the hots for Maybelline.

"Frank's a fucking pussy, he just doesn't want to see us happy, that's why he's weaving lies. Who you gonna believe, hmm? Him or me?"

I stare into her eyes, and, at first, she looks away, but soon after, turns and gifts me with a sweet smile. "You!"

"Damn straight, baby, come here."

I thank the stars she bought the lie. I was already giving up hope she wouldn't allow me make love to her. It's been torture for my cock being near her naked body and not being able to to use it. She falls into my arms and I get to work swiftly, plunging into her.

A week later, I'm inside a hall that's packed full with made men, el capos, consiglieres, soldiers and dons from different factions. Gaiety is the order of the day as Italian music spills forth from hidden speakers and alcohol flows freely. Everywhere I turn, men are smiling, drinking, enjoying themselves and watching, as half-naked women with bare chests and tiny twirly skirts, prance around on the stage, dancing and gyrating to the music.

Today isn't just an ordinary day where they gather to celebrate. It's a day where they come together to witness the son of Alexander Cattaneo become a made man. Me.

Today, I'll become a made man at sixteen, only on one important condition.

I must prove myself worthy by killing someone in the presence of everyone here. It doesn't matter who it is. Everyone is up for grabs except the El capos, Capos and the dons. If I've got the balls to do it, I must go for it.

After all, our motto is born into blood. That's the only way I can become a made man.

After about an hour, the music stops and my father calls me to come out. I do so, and all eyes latch onto me as I stand beside him. At my age, I'm already a head taller than him with broad shoulders. It gives people the false impression that I'm actually older than my sixteen years. I watch as the God fathers spear me with their eyes. There are three of them present, each representing the three different mafia factions in Italy, but still under one umbrella. They sit on chairs that can be mistaken as thrones because of how majestic they look.

One of them stands and addresses me. "Batista Cattaneo, are you ready to abide by our rules?"

"I am ready?" I echo loudly.

The second don stands and asks me another question. "Are you ready to take the secrets of the cammora to the grave once you become a made man?"

"Yes, I am." I reply, my voice strong and confident.

The third one stands and takes over. "Are you ready to be born into blood?"

Excitement pierces my insides and my breath quickens. This time, two sharp nods accompany my answer. "Yes, I am."

Together, the three of them say simultaneously. "Choose whose life you want to end, here and now."

There's no hesitation as I turn round, my eyes skimming the faces of all the men standing and looking at me. There's no ounce of fear on their faces, just curiosity. I deliberately take my time to skim their faces until my eyes land on one person in particular at the back. He looks away from me and is about slinking away when I call out in a bold voice.

"I choose Frank." Even from the distance between us, I can see my words have affected him because his face pales and his mouth opens up like a fish.

I know he can't believe I just called him. He walks out, eyes big and round in his face, mouth twitching ever so slightly, and evident tremors in his hands.

"Who is your father, Frank?" Don Cleto, asks for obvious reasons.

"H. . . h. . . he's dead." Frank stutters out.

"No matter." Don Cleto waves his words away. "We will see that your family is well taken care of and they never lack after your death."

Frank can't hold it in anymore. He bursts into tears.

Loud sniggers go up amongst the men. I try, but fail to stop myself as I let out a chuckle.

Don Marco stands with a heavy frown. "Get a hold of yourself, boy, be a man and not a pussy. It is an honor to die for the Camorra."

"I don't wanna die." Frank cry-yells, "I'm still too young to die."

"Then you're going to have to earn it." A plan has already formed in my mind. I turn to the three dons sitting and staring at Frank. "Permit me to duel with him with a gun. Whoever shoots first will finish the person off, doesn't matter if it's him."

As they confer amongst themselves, father walks up to me and holds my hand in a vice-like grip. "Batista, what do you think you are doing? You could get yourself killed."

I roll my eyes and shake my head. "You know as well as I do that I'm a damn good shot. No one's dying today except Frank. Relax!" And I shake his hand off.

The three dons finish conferring amongst themselves and give me the go ahead. Weapons are procured and two pistols are handed over to me and Frank. I've never seen him holding a weapon before, but a scared man could still do damage. We are advised to go outside in the open air to avoid any casualties, and so everyone files out. Frank and I face each other at a short distance.

"Please don't do this, Batista." Frank implores me with sorrowful eyes.

"Shut the fuck up and say your last prayers." Anger sizzles in my veins. I can't wait to off the fucker. Lily liveried asshole wanting to have a shot at my girl.

"If it's because of Maybelline, I'll stay away from her forever, I. . . I won't even look at her again, I promise." He's crying once more.

I can't stand this shit.

I reach for my gun and point it at him. "Be a fucking man for once in your wretched life and take out your pistol and point it at me. If you die, then do so honorably."

My words seem to do something to him because he stops speaking and stands straighter. He cleans the snot from his nostrils and spares me with a determined look. This lasts for a few seconds before he nods and takes out the pistol from his waist band. "When I die, please tell Maybelline I love her."

I actually feel sorry for the poor fucker. "Yeah, yeah, now let's get on with it."

A weird feeling snakes down my spine as he points the gun at me and smiles. Within the twinkling of an eye, he turns the gun to face himself, opens his mouth and blasts his head off.

That night. . . I leave home.