The Mafia’s Forbidden Desire

ROSALINDA.

Catching a break from Antonio seemed nearly impossible. After barely resisting his charm earlier, he was sitting in front of me, dressed in a white shirt that accentuated his muscles, looking as ravishing as ever.

Papà invited him for dinner, and we were all gathered around the dining table. My other nemesis, Piero, was also seated with us, and I hated the sight of him. Seeing him always reminded me of the horrible thing he made me do as a teenager. Something I hated myself for.

“Piero.” My father suddenly called, sipping from his glass of wine.

“Yes, uncle.” He answered, raising his head to pay attention to what Papà wanted to say.

“I guess you’ll be here till Sofia’s wedding, which is next month, right?” Papà asked.

“Of course.” Piero replied, grinning, and I felt a sudden twist in my stomach.

I couldn’t bear the thought of being in the same space with Piero until then. I hated him, and I wanted him out of my sight as soon as possible. His presence brought back all the dreadful memories-memories that made me sick to my stomach.

“Excuse me. I want to use the Uhm…” I didn’t complete the sentence before leaping to my feet and walking away from the table, hoping no one would stop me.

I needed to leave there before the memories triggered a panic attack.

It’s been eight years, and I still haven’t gotten over it. I could never get over being the cause of Gino’s death. He was the sweetest boy I had ever met, and I would never forgive myself for what I did.

“Rosa.” I suddenly heard the voice of the person I hated the most.

Turning to look at him, my face contorted into a deep frown. “If you’ll stay here till next month, it’s better you avoid me.”

“Come on, Rosalinda. You should get over it already.” Piero muttered as he inched closer to me without an atom of remorse depicted on his face.

“Listen to yourself, Piero. I should get over it. Would that bring him back? Do you know how many sleepless nights I had knowing I was the cause of Gino’s death?”

“But it’s-” He tried to interject, but I cut him off. I wasn’t done talking.

“Gino died because I protected your ass. I hate you. I hate you more than anything on this earth. If you know what’s best for you, avoid me, or even better, leave!”

As I stared at his remorseless, cold eyes, my mind couldn’t escape the haunting recollections of that fateful night. Gino was my friend, and we were all at his father’s sixtieth birthday party. Gino and I got tired of the party, so we stepped outside the mansion.

As we strolled within the yard, we spotted Piero and Gino’s older brother-Franco-having a heated argument, so we decided to move closer to them and help them resolve their issues. But everything went downhill when Piero lost control and fatally shot Gino’s brother in the head.

An instant feeling of trepidation hit Piero, knowing that murdering a member of the Mancini family meant his own death as well. So he turned to me with regret, pleading that I help him out. According to him, there was only one way to save him, and that was to lie.

He implored me to lie to the family and say that it was Gino who murdered Franco. He told me that Gino was a Mancini, and they wouldn’t kill him for murdering his brother.

I didn’t want to do it. I never wanted to lie on my friend, but Piero’s desperate plea clouded my thoughts. He reminded me that he was my cousin and repeated several times that he’d die if I didn’t lie to save him.

So, regrettably, as a stupid sixteen-year-old, I blindly agreed to help him.

He tore my dress and fabricated a false story to tell, and I did. I told everyone that Franco was trying to rape me when Gino shot his brother in the head to rescue me.

They all believed the false story when I told them. Why wouldn’t they? They all knew Gino was crazy about me and would go to any length to protect me. Franco once said that I’d be his woman someday in front of everyone to spite Gino, and a fight almost broke out between the two of them because of that.

To top everything, Gino and his older brother Franco despised each other so much. So the story was very believable.

I could still remember how Gino desperately pleaded with me not to do it. But I didn’t listen to him. I chose to help my cousin instead, and that decision haunts me every single day of my life.

I could remember how Gino denied the accusations as his father’s men took him away. I could still vividly remember the hatred that flickered in Gino’s eyes when his eyes met mine as they took him away.

I thought I was doing the right thing to protect my cousin until the news of Gino’s tragic death reached me. Though his family didn’t intend to kill him, he died from the torture injuries his father inflicted on him.

Gino died for a murder he didn’t commit! He died because I lied. I killed him!

As the memories returned again, a weight of guilt crushed me, and the tears that rolled down my cheeks were uncontrollable, making each breath a struggle.

“You know I would have died if-” Piero started, but I cut him off before he completed the sentence I have heard so many times.

“I wish you had died in place of Gino a million times. And right now, I wish you a horrible death.” I spat bitterly.

He didn’t care that he killed Franco. He didn’t care that Gino died as a result of the lie I told him to protect him. He had neither a hint of regret nor remorse. All he cared about was that he was alive.

“I know you’re still mad; that’s why you’re saying all these. But I’m sorry, okay?” He mumbled the most insincere apology I’d ever heard. But I didn’t care about his apology. I didn’t want it. It wouldn’t bring Gino back to life.

We were both sixteen when it happened. He was only sixteen when he died.

“Rosa. I said I’m-”

“Get out!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

“You heard her.” I suddenly heard Antonio growl, and I lifted my head to see him approaching us, a deep frown slated on his face. “Leave!”

Piero darted his gaze between Antonio and me, contemplating whether to leave or not. When he saw Antonio rolling his sleeves up, ready to attack him, he promptly walked away.

“Did you hear our conversation?” I asked Antonio, and he shook his head.

“I didn’t hear anything.” He lied, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pulling me closer to him. “Come here.”

I buried my head in his chest, and I cried uncontrollably as he slightly patted my back repeatedly, comforting me.

He didn’t utter a word to me, but his silence said a lot. It said that he truly cared about me, and I didn’t know how to feel about that.

“You motherfucker!” I suddenly heard Papà groan, and before I knew what was happening, Antonio was pulled away from me.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“Sofia just told me everything!” He continued, fuming, as his fist met Antonio’s face.

This was bad. This was really bad. I thought as panic surged through me.