The Mafia's Crazy Obsession

Sisters-in-distress

Solana

I straightened, masking my grief briefly behind a wall of indifference before letting my gaze travel up his face. Mother had taught me how to hide my feelings well over the years. She was always at the door whenever Father came back late from work with stuffy excuses of being stuck in traffic or intentionally staying back to finish up some files that had to be turned in the next day. She'd smile, and pat his shoulder as though in understanding. But when he took his clothes off in the bedroom, I watched her sniff them for the faintest smell of a cologne different from his. Her eyes would water, but she'd blink them off the minute she saw me looking. She'd toss the clothes aside and crouch with a million-dollar smile that never seemed to reach her eyes if you knew her well enough.

She was the strongest woman I'd ever seen. The strongest.

My heart clanged hard against my chest, as I inhaled in shallow, breathy intakes. Time seemed to slow down, the world tilting, a splash of black and white — a little of gray. Something dropped in my stomach as piercing dark eyes met mine.

Not harsh or steely like I expected, but soft and concerned.

For a brief moment, I felt he understood my pain. For a brief moment, I felt he was truly concerned.

But that was exactly what I'd thought six years ago, while I was pinned down to the floor, right? I'd felt hopeful that day that he'd spring up from where he sat and tear the annoying doctor away, and stand up to his Father. That he would put an end to the madness. But what did he do? Nothing. He simply sat back, watching. Too much of a loser to brave Norman Stravkos' wrath.

So I was done believing that perhaps, he had a tiny part of a beating heart left behind that buffed-up chest. Any perceived softness was intended to deceive. Like a predator.

The Stravkos family were predators.

And predators had no mercy on their prey whatsoever. I had to understand that, to steel myself from being fooled. They wanted total control of everything within their reach. What they didn't know was that I, Solana Williams was a free woman, incapable of being kept in line. I'd make them gnash their teeth and curse the day they made me theirs. Even if it was the last thing I do.

Abel nodded curtly in acknowledgment and stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter the pew. His father and junior brothers stood watching us, a sly smirk tugging at the ends of his father's lips. I needed no soothsayer to tell me he felt victorious. He had successfully gotten rid of his strongest rival in all of Italy. At last, the competition that had existed between both families for decades had been eliminated, with the Stravkos emerging as the winners.

A tight lump formed in my throat, but I suppressed it quickly. It would be a shame to cry in front of an enemy. I needed to get a grip on my emotions as my patience was slowly bursting through the seams.

Norman gave me a crooked grin, holding out his hand to the space beside him. Quietly, I moved, my legs wobbling as I took my place beside my father-in-law.

Someday, I would turn my fear to hate. Burning scorching hate. I would need to hold onto it, to keep it burning, in order to survive the stormy days ahead. I had only been a naive, sixteen-year-old teenager when I was forced to sign that contract, but I very well knew the implications of those psychotic words binding me to Abel. They meant slavery. A testament that I would never have it easy when Abel finally came to claim me, and I would move into the Stravkos mansion and bear their dirty surname.

I set some distance between Norman and me, careful not to touch or look at him. I had the feeling he was doing the same — his face straight, his brows creased, as though in disgust. I didn't turn to look at Helen either as she escorted Mother back to their pew across the aisle. I blurred out the Stravkos soldiers standing imposingly in a straight line on the perimeter of the church, spilling out the door. Instead, I watched the priest presiding over the funeral. How youthful he looked. How careful. How sorrowful.

He blessed my father and prayed for the Angels to receive his soul into heaven. After all this time, after everything went downhill pretty fast, I simply didn't care anymore. But that kindness. Those soft words of his offered me a string of comfort. One I desperately clung to.

Everyone was dried-eyed, even Mother. It baffled me, even though I somewhat knew my father deserved it. Still, it was a funeral, and without the tears and raw display of grief, it felt off.

I sat through the priest's terse monotone droning as he recited some bible passages and extolled my father for the good deeds he had done during his short time on Earth. One hour later, the service came to an end. My uncles and cousins circled the casket once more, lifting it up. Once they moved past us, Abel stood up, gesturing for me to go ahead. I obeyed, my body going rigid when I felt his arm curl loosely around my waist. He must've felt me stiffen because he didn't hold me for long. He let me go as we neared the entrance, clearing his throat.

We stepped down the stairs, onto the square. The bright Italian sun was blinding making my face burn hot behind the thin veil. My Father's body would be laid to rest here in Tuscany. It was what he always wanted. To be laid to rest in a town he had labored in for so many years. The press was up the minute we appeared out of the church, racing madly towards us with different colors of microphones and jotter pads. Thankfully, the soldiers were on hand, pushing them back. I lost count of the number of camera clicks that were directed at us, capturing everyone from a distance.

Standing aside, I watched, my arms folded across my chest, as they lowered the casket in the waiting hearse. The Stravkos men flanked me protectively on all sides, Abel standing too close, his protective arm back around his waist. Some commotion ensured, and I smiled as three-year-old Frank escaped from my cousin, Adele's grip, and ran towards his mother, my sister Helen, wrapping his little arms around her legs tightly. The Stravkos men were distracted as well, Abel's protective hold falling off, and I used the moment to break away from them and moved over to my family.

“It's good to see you again, Solana.”

Helen greeted me with a faint smile, her eyes puffy and red, but her cheeks were strangely dry. She looked like a totally different person. Hardship had made her age faster than her twenty-six years.

She touched my shoulders, inspecting my appearance, her mouth hanging open in surprise at how much I had changed as well. I was no longer the sixteen-year-old girl with weak, brown curls, a slender body, and a flat chest. Now, I was a full-grown woman. My hips had filled out, my curls had hardened, and my breasts were full. And it took just six years to make all the difference.

I least expected it when she pulled me in for a hug, holding on to me as if his life depended on it. “Look how big you've grown. I've missed your sour face so much.”

My eyes watered, and I relaxed, allowing my body to give into her embrace. We'd been best friends, more than we'd been sisters, but she'd vanished one cold morning. I would've forgiven her if she'd asked me to come with her, but she didn't. She turned her back on me and left me to face the big, bad wolves alone. I knew why she did it. I understood her reasons. But still, it hurt twice as much.

It should've been her. She should've been the one to bear the brunt of our family's humiliation, but I'd taken her place. Against my will. She and Abel were once best friends, too. But they'd been forced to drift away due to the simmering conflict between both families. Helen had found love with someone else, and Abel had absorbed himself into his father's business, and they just couldn't stand each other anymore.

None of what happened was her fault. I should stop blaming her, but I just couldn't bring myself to.

“Mama,” came Frank's high-pitched voice.

Helen released me at last, squeezing my hands in comfort. She was the only one, apart from Mother, who could see through the false facade of strength I was putting on.

“Mama, look at me,” Frank said impatiently, tugging harder at her skirt. Helen sighed, bending to ruffle his hair before she picked him up.

“I thought you'd be lounging in Rhode Island by now. Why did you come back?” I asked, my voice cautious, stilled, cold. “Why now? And how long do you intend on staying.”

Surprise flashed through her eyes. Her little boy watched me curiously, while I tried not to swoon over him. It was impossible. I had a weakness for babies with cobalt-blue eyes, and Frank had the right amount of cuteness to make me feel warm. His beer red curls shone in the sunlight, and I wondered fleetingly for a second if his father was Asian or Mexican. I wanted to ask her, but we simply didn't have that same closeness as before, and I doubted she'd tell the truth anyway.

“This is Frank,” Helen said, ignoring my questions. “Frank, this is your aunt, Solana. Say hello.”

“Hello, Aunt Solana,” Frank gave a small wave.

“Hi, Frank. How are you?” I asked, poking his chubby cheeks. He giggled, flailing his legs in the air.

“Pyne.”

“Why did you come back? You hated him more than anything while I was still here. Did that later change? Is that why you came back?” I asked, my voice thickening with rage. I'd expected more from her, yet she abandoned me. What kind of a sister pushes her sibling in front of a moving train instead of saving her?

“I know you're angry at me Solana, but please hear me out. I never should have left. I'm sorry, and I do hope you forgive me someday,” she glanced at the hearse, her eyes softening. “I never forgave him for setting us up to take his fall, but he's still our father. Life is much too short to hold grudges.”

I wondered if our situation would be different if we had a brother. As girls, we'd been easier to give away. To do away with.

“Frank and I will come over to see you next week. We'll be leaving for Rhode Island a day after.”

I snorted. “Why bother?”

She exhaled, taking my hand. Hers trembled. “Solana, I'm trying to be a better sister. To look out for you like in the old days. Like I should've six years ago. Please let me.”

“No.” I snapped, swallowing hard. The tears were close. I could feel them. “You lost the right to look out for me when you left without a word.”

“I know...but please be strong. We'll all heal.”

“You didn't lose anything, Helen. You didn't lose your freedom.”

“But I lost a father.”

“A father we both didn't love. Do you know how hard it is for me not to hate you outrightly for leaving me in the lurch? You could've taken me along with you! You knew the Stravkos men would lose their s**t and Father would have no choice but to hand me over to them as a replacement.”

“I didn't, goddammit! I didn't know, believe me.”

We were drawing attention to us now, I was sure. I didn't want Abel to come here and lose his s**t at her for snapping at me. Taking a deep breath, I said. “Well, you know now. I have no to go.”

I took a step back. Helen's eyes filled with tears as she held out a hand, urging me to take it. To hold her one last time.

But I blinked my own tears back and turned away.

Shed no tears. Show no weakness.