Bodyguard of the Mafia's Daughter

*Brielle's POV* What comes to mind when you think about a “family business." A cute little mom and pop shop maybe? Perhaps a bakery or candy store started by some great-grandparent way back when comes to mind? Does a little place that started from nothing but dirt and a dream because that family member had two pennies to rub together and a strong work ethic? What about older family businesses? What about the businesses that lasted more than a couple of generations and deal in more than just day labor and skilled trade? This kind of business is the kind my family deals. Officially, we deal in stocks and trades, handshaking and rubbing elbows with other business owners. We lend money to a variety of businesses ranging from those cute little mom and pop shops to the larger corporations finding themselves in a monetary pinch. We help them, those poor unfortunate souls who had a bad turn of luck and invested a little too much here and there. We bail out companies who may have had some leadership issues, usually those who were trying to deepen their pockets with company funds, embezzling from their place of employment. Sounds like a decent business, right? That is exactly the point. It is meant to sound charitable and philanthropic. Looks great for tax season. Helps bring families together for the holiday season. It is all a front – a façade meant to keep the public at ease and the police at bay. Our real business may be viewed as, shall we say, less savory. My family is a collection of shrewd money lenders, and we like the connections we have cultivated over the generations. Let me just say that our loans always – always – get paid back, no matter the cost. Sometimes those loans are paid in broken bones and intimidating conversations. Other times, we enjoy privileges that other families do not have access to because we know the right people. This is my life. I call it our family business – a traditional business model reliant on every extended relative working toward a common goal to secure our future. Others call it a mafia. Now, we may use some unorthodox methods for obtaining our money and maintaining our position in the city, but that doesn't make us bad people. And, unlike other thug groups who are in our city, we haven't had to make any of our enemies disappear. Contrary to popular belief, my family hasn't had real blood on their hands since the early days when my great-great-grandfather ran the family. White collar business deals and polite conversations among friends which sometimes get heated. We keep the fat cats happy and keep our place at the dinner table too. Like the queen in chess, we maneuver around the board as we see fit in order to protect our king, which translates to our business investments and relationships to those in positions of power. Anyone would do the same for their family, right? That is the way the world works. It is who you know and the people you decide to put up with that gets you somewhere. My own great-grandfather, a frowning Italian man who inherited connections and the family business from his great-grandfather, told me that all I ever needed was family. As long as we held together as one unit, we were stronger than any governmental body in the world. I have lived by those words practically all my life. Everything I ever did was for the family. From selecting my school classes in high school and university to the people who I brought into my life, protecting and connecting the family was always the main objective. I even started a few side hustles of my own, lending small sums of money to certain individuals and securing a doubled return with the methods I picked up from my family, specifically my older cousin Leo. So, when I finally told my father I was interested in officially getting involved in the family business, I was beyond shocked that he turned me down. Granted, it was the third time I brought it to his attention, but this was my first official request. How? How could he deny his “little girl?" Why would he deny me this one thing I really and truly wanted? He had never denied me like this before when I asked for something, regardless of how outlandish it seemed at the time. The discussion with him ended, but it didn't stop me from marching my way up the main staircase, past the crystal chandeliers and collection of artworks, and finally to my room where I whipped out my mobile phone to continue the discussion with my favorite cousin, Leo. “Leo! I'm telling you; daddy was as red as a beet when I told him I was interested," I say as I roll over on the fluffy cream-colored comforter on my bed. I lay on my stomach and lay my cheek on my arm, phone pressed firmly against my ear as I listen to Leo chuckle on the other side of the phone connection. “Did things get heated?" he asks. “No," I say indignantly. “I was polite and professional." “You were polite about it?" Leo confirms, a hint of tease and suspicion in his voice. I wrinkle my nose and make a face as though he were there to see me and sigh. “Yes, I was, and I'm always polite! I'm offended you would even suggest I was being impolite toward my dad," I say firmly. “Just asking. I know you Brielle, and you can have a short fuse sometimes; especially if you are passionate about something and want your way without compromise," reminds Leo. I roll my eyes as I roll over onto my back, turning my view of the room upside down. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in one of the many mirrors in my slightly ajar walk-in-closet door. Those dark brown eyes of mine look like lipid pools of dark chocolate, rich and, at the moment, bittersweet. My black hair cascades off of the side of the bed like a waterfall. The flowing fabric of the cute black dress with rose floral print I picked for the meeting with dad fans out on top of the covers as I roll over, revealing my sweetheart neckline that made all of those weak-minded college boys swoon. If only my dad were as easy to convince as those would-be men I could wrap around my finger. “You showed him the file too?" Leo asks, which pulls me from my thoughts. “You know? All your research into the company and everything?" “I gave him everything and then some," I moan. My fingers play idly with a ribbon of hair I snagged, weaving it in between my fingers. “Even the connections packet?" “Leo! I'm telling you; I gave him everything! Names. Dates. Events to attend. I even had example outfits to wear so he could see how I would dress. Nothing is going to convince this man that I'm ready," I sigh heatedly. “He is still convinced that I'm 'daddy's little girl' and is so stuck in all of these traditional social norms that he refuses to see how much I have actually done behind the scenes for the family." “You are not wrong," replies Leo after a few seconds of silence. “You have been basically running the books and appointments for the past six years? Gosh, has it been six years?" “Technically seven if you count my quote unquote training period," I say. “And even longer if you consider how long I have been shadowing you and Tony and Dante and Luca and Gio and…" “Okay okay. You sound like you are trying to convince me," interrupts Leo. It does not stop me from continuing my rant. “I mean, Auntie Julia is involved, so why can't I be? Hm? I could work insider trading deals or any number of things. I took all of those self-defense classes, and I am a better shot ten times over than Auntie Julia. Plus! I am younger and single, meaning that I can…" “Hold up! I do not need to hear about all the things you are ready and willing to do there now Breezy," interjects cousin Leo. Hearing my cousin call me by that age old nickname my family gave me years ago stops me in my tracks, sending a wave of nostalgia through me. It was endearing in a way, but it also proved the point I was making – that everyone in my family saw me as this sweet, innocent little girl who didn't know what she was getting into. I take a second to pause and calm myself down. My heart is pounding vigorously in my chest, a clear indication I was getting heated over the whole affair. I hadn't realized I was talking faster or that I was practically out of breath from my miniature rant. “Better?" he asks after I take a few deep breaths. “Not really," I mutter. “I was just thinking that you just proved the point I was making. Everyone in the family sees me as Breezy. It's like I can't break away from that image of being a cute little kid unless I do something drastic, and we all know how that would end up." “Buried on page twenty-seven in the non-existent print newspaper, I'm sure," says Leo. “Just listen to me Brielle. You will have your chance to prove yourself to the family. You do not have to go out and get directly involved, putting yourself in the limelight, to make the most meaningful impact in the family. You do realize what an asset it is to have someone who isn't constantly being scrutinized by the cops, right?" I roll back over and shove my face into the freshly laundered comforter on my bed, letting out a low groan of admission. “Yes," I say, purposefully muffling my voice with the fabric. “Can't hear you Breezy," prompts Leo. I force my face up and speak clearly into the phone. “Yes, I know," I say. “But it's not like the cops don't know who I am. We're basically on a first-name basis with some of these guys." “Brielle, you know what I mean. You are like our secret weapon. They can't tie anything directly to you, meaning you are the most valuable asset we have. You schedule meetings and appointments, meaning there's plausible deniability. You have access to our accounts, meaning nothing can be frozen or hindered. You've got a good business mind, Brielle. The research you do is unparalleled." “Yeah," I mutter, feeling mildly better that my cousin is fluffing me up with flattery. It doesn't change my feelings about the meeting with my father entirely, but I don't feel quite like a useless lump doing nothing for the family. “You don't sound convinced. Do I need to fluff you up some more? Butt not kissed enough?" teases Leo. I roll my eyes and shake my head as if he can see me. “No, I think that's sufficient," I say. “Thanks Leo." “Anytime cous," he replies. I can practically see the partially chipped toothed smile on my cousin's face. I feel tempted to leave it alone, but I decide to have the last word in the matter. “Mark me, though," I say. I hear Leo chuckle and practically see his dark brown eyes roll. “I am going to wear my dad down. You watch! I'll…" The home intercom system buzzes, setting my senses on high alert when I see that it's my dad calling from his office downstairs. Did he reconsider? Every nerve in my body jolts like I just touched a live electric wire and I leap out of the bed, pressing the button to answer his call. “Yes dad?" I say eagerly, trying to hide the excitement in my voice at the possibility of him reconsidering my offer. “Gabriella, I have something I would like to discuss with you. Could you come down to my office?" asks my father, his smooth voice coming over clearly over the intercom. “Yessir. I'll be right down," I confirm before clicking off the intercom. “Leo! Dad summoned me to his office. I might have another shot at this! Wish me luck!" “Beat 'em up Breezy," Leo chuckles before I hang up and sprint down the stairs while trying to keep my composure. I can't deny my heart is racing out of my chest and that my mind is spiraling with possibility. Was I finally getting a chance to prove myself? I stand outside of my father's office before taking one final calming breath and knocking three times firmly. “Enter." Here I go!