Daughter of the Mob (Sample)

07 | Forbidden

"Johnny is a real nice young man." Her papà commented, wiping his mouth with a napkin over a dinner of spaghett' and meatballs.

"He's okay." Carlotta wiggled her toes in her black leather shoes, feeling the scrutiny of her family weigh down upon her.

Don Roberto seemed oblivious of Carlotta's discomfort and continued with an unapologetic testament of Johnny's person. "He's done well for himself, figlia mia. He's a true Sicilian, with a desire to honour his heritage and work hard in this country. I don't see what more a young Italian girl could want in a man."

"He's family, too." Carlotta's mamma added coyly, raising her fork in the air. "He knows us well, and would be an impressive addition to our famiglia. Trust me, dearest Carlotta. Marriage brings more joy than anything in the world. You could find it with Johnny."

"Kids at my school say that marrying a cousin is like marrying a sister." Teenaged Louis Mancini commented offhandedly. "They say it's raunchy and weird."

An expression of indignation roused some colour into Isabella Mancini—Carlotta's mother's cheeks. "What kids? Your American friends? They don't knowing nothin' about our people. Besides, Johnny's ma is my cousin, and he's her son. That makes him your distant cousin."

Adrenaline rushed through Carlotta. She needed to change the subject. "Hey Ma, you know where my old rollerblades are? I was gonna give them to Louis."

"You used to rollerblade out on the street with Johnny, didn't you?" Roberto Mancini simpered, spearing his meat with his fork. "He taught you. I remember it. The both of you had so much fun back then."

Carlotta knew that her papà—like everyone in her family—had his heart set on her marrying the famed Johnny Siciliano.

Johnny was the youngest capo in the Family, in Brooklyn, for that matter, and one of the few men Don Roberto trusted, him being a second cousin of her mamma.

There was no doubt in Carlotta's mind that Johnny Siciliano was handsome. Every girl with a working pair of eyes could see that plain as day. And yes, he would likely become a boss one day if he wanted to and was ambitious enough to do it, but she couldn't fathom the idea of marrying a man she considered a brother.

These types of matches were made often, between the daughter of a powerful Boss, and one of the men aspiring to rise in rank. So despite American sensibilities, it wasn't uncommon for distant cousins or old family friends to marry for the sake of forging alliances. Maybe Carlotta had filled her head with the nonsense of American television and romance novels as her parents professed, but she wouldn't marry a man she didn't love.

"Carlotta likes someone else." Louis teased.

Carlotta muttered a string of curses in Italian and socked her brother in the arm, sensing her face grow warm with the truth of his words.

~~~

After dinner, Carlotta helped her mamma clear the table and wash the dishes.

She loved the sensation of warm water and a concoction of liquid detergent and soap mixed together, running over her hands like silk. It was the kind of soap that smelled of sunshine and lemons.

This was what Carlotta loved. Standing with her mamma, heads bent over the sink, chattering about both nonsense and wisdom and the in-between, loud enough for their confessions to be concealed beneath the crooning Italian music from the radio. The kitchen was her mamma's domain and so no men were allowed, including her father. If she could remain in the kitchen forever, she wouldn't be opposed.

"Gonna start preparing for the Christmas dinner?" Carlotta nodded towards a peeled open recipe book lying on the kitchen counter.

"Of course. What d'you think I should make? A turkey? Pot roast? What did your papà like last year?"