20 years ago...
She clutched the little cloth doll tightly as her Nonna led her into the family parlor. As intuitive and precocious as any other five year-old, Ginny knew something was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. Where was mama? Though she loved Nonna terribly much, Mama was her heart and soul. She clutched Nonna's old-fashioned apron a little more tightly in one small fist, her doll Reggie in the other.
"Come, ma bella regazza," Nonna crooned with a hand protectively cradled on the back of her head, caressing the dark curls to give comfort though Ginny had no idea why she'd need it.
"Nonna, where is Mama?" she asked again as they settled on the little sofa. It was starting to get a little worn and Ginny picked at a loose thread while they waited for the others. At this point, she would even be relieved to see Papa, though he'd never bestowed much affection or happiness her way. She knew her father tolerated her for Mama's sake, but it was no secret she'd been born a girl - and thus, a disappointment.
Ginny was just about to ask a third time when the door swung open and several people filed in. She recognized them all, of course. There was Antonio, Zio Giuseppe, and Zia Maria. Though why they were all together was too confusing. Hers was not an affectionate family, and Antonio was always busy as the right hand to Poppa Lorenzo, the Regatto patriarch. She shrank a little on the sofa, instinctively trying to make herself smaller under the unflinching and pitying stares they aimed at her.
"Have you told her?" Antonio asked without preamble. None of them had bothered to sit yet. He continued to stare at Ginny, though the question was aimed at Nonna.
"No, as you asked me to wait until everyone was here." Though Nonna Theresa was the eldest in the room, her voice was strong and clear, still carrying the soft yet vibrant accent of her homeland in the south of Italy. Antonio briefly shifted his cold, black eyes toward her before the locked back on Ginny.
"Genevieve," he commanded-because Antonio never spoke without it being a command. The little girl reluctantly straightened up, though she held her doll a bit tighter. Without knowing why, she braced herself as if expecting a fist to fly at her. "Yes, Signore?"
"We have news about your parents."
Immediately her eyes widened and she bit down on her lower lip. "Mama?"
"Yes, child." Zia Maria stepped forward and took up the story. Her bold, red-painted lips tensed into a tight line. "Your mama was murdered last night by the O'Malley beasts."
When Ginny looked at Nonna Theresa in confusion, the elderly matron cupped a soft palm against her cheek. Tears glistened her faded brown eyes, though they would never be so discourteous as to slip down her cheeks in the presence of company. "She died, regazza."
"Mama?" she parroted again, stuck like a broken record. Images of her mother, her beautiful, wonderful mother who sang her to sleep at night and took her to the candy shop on Wednesday afternoons flooded her mind and Ginny began to cry.
"Quiet now, Genevieve." Antonio folded his arms across the chest and nodded for Maria to continue.
"Your papa is in jail. The O'Malley dogs were waiting, knowing he would avenge Elena. Matteo was blamed for her death and the police have him on murder charges." Gina stepped back, going to her husband's side. Anger rolled off everyone in waves, so palpable that it all but clogged Ginny's raw throat. She didn't understand half the words Gina spoke, but she understood enough to know her Mama, her haven, was dead and her Papa, even though he didn't much care for her, wasn't coming home for a long time, if ever.
Bony arms enfolded her and Ginny wept with her head buried in Nonna's apron. Antonio moved to scold her again but a glare from Nonna silenced him. "Let her have her tears, Tony. What is to be done now? We cannot let this pass with no retribution. Word will get out and the hyenas will start circling, looking for weakness."
The mafia lordling clenched his teeth together, wanting nothing so much as rig the Irish family's headquarters with a crate of TNT and blow them into pink mist. He'd even sow the ashes with salt. "We have the lawyers working on Matteo's case, of course. But his failure to keep Elena safe means Lorenzo isn't really in a hurry. Matteo was useless and everyone knew he just used Elena to marry into the family. Why Lorenzo ever permitted it in the first place is anyone's guess." He bit his tongue from saying anything further to Theresa, showing a sliver of decorum since it was her dead daughter they were discussing.
"My brother's reasoning is not your concern, Antonio. Remember that."
"Of course, Theresa. I mean no disrespect." He bowed his head, the lamplight glinting off the threads of gray running through his otherwise pitch black hair.
"I'm sure you didn't. When is the family gathering to discuss our plans?"
"The others will be here in an hour, mother." This came from Uncle Joe, who had remained silent through the entire exchange. Theresa nodded and gathered up Ginny. "I will attend. Please summon Ruby to watch over Ginny."
Smartly yet discreetly dismissed, the others filed out of the room. Theresa didn't speak until long after the door quietly clicked closed.
"I'm so sorry, bella regazza. So very sorry."
Ginny shook her head, crying until there were no more tears left to grieve with. She hiccoughed once and sat up, her face red and puffy. "What will happen to me, Nonna?"
Theresa pulled her into a tight hug. "Such silly talk, little girl. You will stay here, with your family, where you belong. You have me, your uncles and aunts. And Miss Ruby, your nanny." None of those could take the place of Mama, though Ginny was too tired, too achy and sad to say it. So she just nodded and when the sad-eyed Miss Ruby came to collect her a few minutes later, Ginny followed listlessly. Her eyes were hollow, her limbs slow to move. The world felt leeched of color, everything tinged with gray.
No matter how much Nonna and Ruby cared for her, Ginny knew her life would never be the same.
La Famiglia (The Family)
Moderators: VagueDurin, Nichalus
Daughter of Epona
Posts: 2048
Joined: Mon Feb 17, 2003 10:00 pm
Joined: Mon Feb 17, 2003 10:00 pm
Location: Between Heaven and Earth
La Famiglia (The Family)
Keep your confessions,
Cause babe, I’m no saint.
I know your devils,
I know them by name.
Cause babe, I’m no saint.
I know your devils,
I know them by name.
Daughter of Epona
Posts: 2048
Joined: Mon Feb 17, 2003 10:00 pm
Joined: Mon Feb 17, 2003 10:00 pm
Location: Between Heaven and Earth
Re: La Famiglia (The Family)
8 years later
"Your mind is wandering again."
Ginny ducked her head apologetically under the gaze of her tutor and cleared her throat. "I'm sorry Miss Copello. I was just thinking about...things."
The sharp-eyed woman huffed out a breath and tapped a pencil against the open text book between them. "You must try harder, Genevieve. Your family expects great things from you and in order to reflect well on them, you must excel at your studies." She unbent enough to lift up a half smile at her charge, though even that looked like it was a painful feat for the woman who had been teaching Mafioso children for the last four decades. "That includes geometry."
"Yes ma'am," the young teenager sighed. She turned away from the open window, the sounds of birds and a cool breeze still beckoning with temptation. Ginny would much rather be outside than indoors. Especially when the house was full of visiting family. Especially when Giovanni, or Gianni as he was normally called with affection, stalked the old mansion's twisting corridors. She suppressed a shudder, lest she be scolded again for inattentiveness. Or showing emotion - both of those things were considered ill-mannered in the Regatto family. Ginny hated Gianni, from the moment he yanked viciously on her braids when they first met. Cunning and sly even at a young age, he waited until no adults had been around, then claimed innocence when Ginny ran to tell on him. That had earned her a banishment for the rest of the day and no supper that night. Since then, Ginny had tried hard to avoid him, sometimes more successfully than others.
Eager to avoid Miss Copello's lectures, she quickly finished the remaining problems and inwardly sighed in relief when the schoolmistress closed the book. "Well done," she clipped out to the girl and began gathering up her materials. "Now straight to your room. Your grandmother left word that you would attend a dinner tonight and I expect it will take you until the evening to make yourself presentable."
With that backhanded comment, Ginny took her leave and dutifully went to her rooms. It wasn't often she was ordered to attend family functions, but she supposed it would start happening more frequently, now that her thirteenth birthday passed last week. Since she desperately wanted to please her relatives, especially dear Nonna, Ginny spent extra time to look nice. She had her first pair of heels which pleased her immensely, even if they were only kitten-heel height. She paired it with a pretty green dress the shade of pine trees with capped sleeves of hand-crafted lace. A decent hand with a curling iron, she tamed her messy waves into more orderly curls and pinned them away from her face with a crystal haircomb.
Around her neck was a small gold cross, inherited from her sainted mother. Ginny wore it most days, especially when she needed a boost of confidence or luck. Her earlobes stayed bare, as she was forbidden from getting her ears pierced yet.
At precisely six in the evening she descended the staircase and turned to the formal banquet room. She quickly scanned the crowd, her heart sinking when she spotted Gianni with his parents. Unfortunately, his looks belied his cruel nature; he was very handsome even at fourteen. Not plagued by any adolescent tortures such as acne or spindly limbs, he could have already been a model for the posh magazines. His black hair was neatly trimmed and swept back so that his black eyes, much like his father Antonio's, could stare imposingly at whomever was unlucky enough to catch his attention. He filled out the charcoal gray, custom suit nicely, paired by a silk tie in deep plum.
"Genevieve, you look lovely." Ginny felt her heart warm at the soft voice of her grandmother and she turned to kiss the elderly woman's cheek.
"Hello, Nonna. So do you." That earned her a chuckle and an affectionate pat on the shoulder.
"Come, you'll sit beside me tonight. And then we'll put those dancing lessons of yours to good use after dinner as I made sure Lorenzo hired that live band visiting from down in New Orleans."
"That sounds wonderful," Ginny replied and followed in her grandmother's wake as they mingled with the dozen or so relatives and high-level members of the Regatto family business. Throughout the evening she felt an itch of awareness in between her shoulder blades and new that Gianni was watching her. Why, she didn't know. It wasn't as if they were friends, and he wasn't stupid enough to make overt enemies out of her. Still, the dinner passed pleasantly and Ginny made no terrible faux pas with silverware or etiquette. In fact, she was certain that her mother would be proud of her deportment, and Poppa Lorenzo, seated like a head of state at the far end of the long banquet table, would find no fault at her conduct.
As the dinner plates were cleared away discreetly by the serving staff, Ginny willed her shoulders to relax. It was almost over and then she could migrate with the others into the ballroom to enjoy some music. Then Poppa Lorenzo stood from the table and tapped his crystal wine glass for attention.
"My family, my friends," he rolled out, his voice inflecting warmth and camaraderie that always cemented the loyalty and admiration of those pledged to him. "I am so pleased to see so many here tonight. To celebrate the ties of La Famiglia and enjoy such fine food and conversation. It is times like these we must reflect on our strength as one family, one force. Together, we will stand against those who mean to crush us and will instead find themselves ground beneath our feet."
Nods and murmurs of agreement reverberated around the table. "Tonight, we will make the bonds that tie us together even tighter. For I have just granted permission to give my grand-niece, Genevieve, in marriage to Giovanni Farrelli." He raised his hands to quiet the sudden cheers and congratulations, while Ginny, seated in place of pride near Theresa, felt the life drain from her face and ice crackle through her heart.
"The wedding will take place when she reaches her majority at eighteen."
Applause and more congratulations ricocheted like gunshots against her ears and she fisted her hands together under the tablecloth. The exquisite dinner she'd just finished eating threatened to make another appearance and it was all she could do to not scream a denial. Married to that bully! All because Antonio was respected and prized for doing Lorenzo's dirty work and rising to the echelon of his right hand. She was nothing more than a prize cow given in barter as a reward for loyalty. And of course, she was expected to go along with it, smiling all the way to slaughter.
Somehow, she managed to fumble her way through the rest of dessert, only casting pleading eyes once to her grandmother. Nonna shook her head once in warning but reached out to take her hand and hold it until they rose from the table once Lorenzo rose and stepped toward the ballroom. She wanted to remain at Nonna's side, but Antonio brought Gianni to them straight away, an empty smile on his always aloof face.
"Hello, Genevieve. I hope you are as pleased as we at the wonderful news?"
The question couldn't have been more loaded than if he'd pointed the .22 hidden beneath his tuxedo jacket straight at her forehead.
She lowered her eyes and forced a smiling nod. "I am very pleased, Signore."
The reply must have been sufficient because he nodded at Theresa before gesturing to Gianni at his elbow. "Given the circumstances, Gianni insisted he be the one to escort you to dinner. I will see to your grandmother," he added with another smile. "With her gracious permission, of course." With no other recourse, Theresa nodded and stepped away from Ginny. How the young girl wished to be small again, when it was permissible for her to hide behind her skirts and pretend the harshness of life didn't exist.
Gianni boldly took Ginny's hand and placed it on the crook of his elbow as his tutors had long ago taught him. Then without waiting, turned and lead her through the wide double doors.
"You don't look very pleased," he remarked with quiet smugness. "In fact, you look like you're about to vomit down your dress." He raised an eyebrow mockingly. "That certainly wouldn't impress your grandmother or Lorenzo."
"I would rather marry a pit viper, which is several steps above you in both manners and the food chain."
At that hissed response, he merely chuckled and pulled her reluctant person out onto the dance floor as the first notes of a jazz song began to play. "I have to say, Ginny, you make this too easy. I'm going to enjoy making your life a misery."
"Why, Gianni?" she said in exasperation. "This makes no sense. We've never liked each other, we never will like each other. Why would you and your father push for something like this when you could find any other girl?"
"Connections," he carelessly shrugged.
Ginny narrowed her eyes. "There are more connected girls out there. I am not that stupid."
"Yes you are," he shot back. "But I won't hold that too much against you." He turned her on the floor, giving their relatives the perfect performance of a delighted son dancing with his promised girl. "At least not yet, anyway. And if you can't figure out the rest, then you're beyond stupid."
With that, the song ended and he led her back to a waiting Theresa.
"Thank you for the dance, Genevieve. I'm sure we'll see each other more often now."
Ginny couldn't even summon up the proper response before he spun on his heel and disappeared into the crowd.
It was going to be the longest five years of her life, unless she could figure a way out of this mess.
"Your mind is wandering again."
Ginny ducked her head apologetically under the gaze of her tutor and cleared her throat. "I'm sorry Miss Copello. I was just thinking about...things."
The sharp-eyed woman huffed out a breath and tapped a pencil against the open text book between them. "You must try harder, Genevieve. Your family expects great things from you and in order to reflect well on them, you must excel at your studies." She unbent enough to lift up a half smile at her charge, though even that looked like it was a painful feat for the woman who had been teaching Mafioso children for the last four decades. "That includes geometry."
"Yes ma'am," the young teenager sighed. She turned away from the open window, the sounds of birds and a cool breeze still beckoning with temptation. Ginny would much rather be outside than indoors. Especially when the house was full of visiting family. Especially when Giovanni, or Gianni as he was normally called with affection, stalked the old mansion's twisting corridors. She suppressed a shudder, lest she be scolded again for inattentiveness. Or showing emotion - both of those things were considered ill-mannered in the Regatto family. Ginny hated Gianni, from the moment he yanked viciously on her braids when they first met. Cunning and sly even at a young age, he waited until no adults had been around, then claimed innocence when Ginny ran to tell on him. That had earned her a banishment for the rest of the day and no supper that night. Since then, Ginny had tried hard to avoid him, sometimes more successfully than others.
Eager to avoid Miss Copello's lectures, she quickly finished the remaining problems and inwardly sighed in relief when the schoolmistress closed the book. "Well done," she clipped out to the girl and began gathering up her materials. "Now straight to your room. Your grandmother left word that you would attend a dinner tonight and I expect it will take you until the evening to make yourself presentable."
With that backhanded comment, Ginny took her leave and dutifully went to her rooms. It wasn't often she was ordered to attend family functions, but she supposed it would start happening more frequently, now that her thirteenth birthday passed last week. Since she desperately wanted to please her relatives, especially dear Nonna, Ginny spent extra time to look nice. She had her first pair of heels which pleased her immensely, even if they were only kitten-heel height. She paired it with a pretty green dress the shade of pine trees with capped sleeves of hand-crafted lace. A decent hand with a curling iron, she tamed her messy waves into more orderly curls and pinned them away from her face with a crystal haircomb.
Around her neck was a small gold cross, inherited from her sainted mother. Ginny wore it most days, especially when she needed a boost of confidence or luck. Her earlobes stayed bare, as she was forbidden from getting her ears pierced yet.
At precisely six in the evening she descended the staircase and turned to the formal banquet room. She quickly scanned the crowd, her heart sinking when she spotted Gianni with his parents. Unfortunately, his looks belied his cruel nature; he was very handsome even at fourteen. Not plagued by any adolescent tortures such as acne or spindly limbs, he could have already been a model for the posh magazines. His black hair was neatly trimmed and swept back so that his black eyes, much like his father Antonio's, could stare imposingly at whomever was unlucky enough to catch his attention. He filled out the charcoal gray, custom suit nicely, paired by a silk tie in deep plum.
"Genevieve, you look lovely." Ginny felt her heart warm at the soft voice of her grandmother and she turned to kiss the elderly woman's cheek.
"Hello, Nonna. So do you." That earned her a chuckle and an affectionate pat on the shoulder.
"Come, you'll sit beside me tonight. And then we'll put those dancing lessons of yours to good use after dinner as I made sure Lorenzo hired that live band visiting from down in New Orleans."
"That sounds wonderful," Ginny replied and followed in her grandmother's wake as they mingled with the dozen or so relatives and high-level members of the Regatto family business. Throughout the evening she felt an itch of awareness in between her shoulder blades and new that Gianni was watching her. Why, she didn't know. It wasn't as if they were friends, and he wasn't stupid enough to make overt enemies out of her. Still, the dinner passed pleasantly and Ginny made no terrible faux pas with silverware or etiquette. In fact, she was certain that her mother would be proud of her deportment, and Poppa Lorenzo, seated like a head of state at the far end of the long banquet table, would find no fault at her conduct.
As the dinner plates were cleared away discreetly by the serving staff, Ginny willed her shoulders to relax. It was almost over and then she could migrate with the others into the ballroom to enjoy some music. Then Poppa Lorenzo stood from the table and tapped his crystal wine glass for attention.
"My family, my friends," he rolled out, his voice inflecting warmth and camaraderie that always cemented the loyalty and admiration of those pledged to him. "I am so pleased to see so many here tonight. To celebrate the ties of La Famiglia and enjoy such fine food and conversation. It is times like these we must reflect on our strength as one family, one force. Together, we will stand against those who mean to crush us and will instead find themselves ground beneath our feet."
Nods and murmurs of agreement reverberated around the table. "Tonight, we will make the bonds that tie us together even tighter. For I have just granted permission to give my grand-niece, Genevieve, in marriage to Giovanni Farrelli." He raised his hands to quiet the sudden cheers and congratulations, while Ginny, seated in place of pride near Theresa, felt the life drain from her face and ice crackle through her heart.
"The wedding will take place when she reaches her majority at eighteen."
Applause and more congratulations ricocheted like gunshots against her ears and she fisted her hands together under the tablecloth. The exquisite dinner she'd just finished eating threatened to make another appearance and it was all she could do to not scream a denial. Married to that bully! All because Antonio was respected and prized for doing Lorenzo's dirty work and rising to the echelon of his right hand. She was nothing more than a prize cow given in barter as a reward for loyalty. And of course, she was expected to go along with it, smiling all the way to slaughter.
Somehow, she managed to fumble her way through the rest of dessert, only casting pleading eyes once to her grandmother. Nonna shook her head once in warning but reached out to take her hand and hold it until they rose from the table once Lorenzo rose and stepped toward the ballroom. She wanted to remain at Nonna's side, but Antonio brought Gianni to them straight away, an empty smile on his always aloof face.
"Hello, Genevieve. I hope you are as pleased as we at the wonderful news?"
The question couldn't have been more loaded than if he'd pointed the .22 hidden beneath his tuxedo jacket straight at her forehead.
She lowered her eyes and forced a smiling nod. "I am very pleased, Signore."
The reply must have been sufficient because he nodded at Theresa before gesturing to Gianni at his elbow. "Given the circumstances, Gianni insisted he be the one to escort you to dinner. I will see to your grandmother," he added with another smile. "With her gracious permission, of course." With no other recourse, Theresa nodded and stepped away from Ginny. How the young girl wished to be small again, when it was permissible for her to hide behind her skirts and pretend the harshness of life didn't exist.
Gianni boldly took Ginny's hand and placed it on the crook of his elbow as his tutors had long ago taught him. Then without waiting, turned and lead her through the wide double doors.
"You don't look very pleased," he remarked with quiet smugness. "In fact, you look like you're about to vomit down your dress." He raised an eyebrow mockingly. "That certainly wouldn't impress your grandmother or Lorenzo."
"I would rather marry a pit viper, which is several steps above you in both manners and the food chain."
At that hissed response, he merely chuckled and pulled her reluctant person out onto the dance floor as the first notes of a jazz song began to play. "I have to say, Ginny, you make this too easy. I'm going to enjoy making your life a misery."
"Why, Gianni?" she said in exasperation. "This makes no sense. We've never liked each other, we never will like each other. Why would you and your father push for something like this when you could find any other girl?"
"Connections," he carelessly shrugged.
Ginny narrowed her eyes. "There are more connected girls out there. I am not that stupid."
"Yes you are," he shot back. "But I won't hold that too much against you." He turned her on the floor, giving their relatives the perfect performance of a delighted son dancing with his promised girl. "At least not yet, anyway. And if you can't figure out the rest, then you're beyond stupid."
With that, the song ended and he led her back to a waiting Theresa.
"Thank you for the dance, Genevieve. I'm sure we'll see each other more often now."
Ginny couldn't even summon up the proper response before he spun on his heel and disappeared into the crowd.
It was going to be the longest five years of her life, unless she could figure a way out of this mess.
Keep your confessions,
Cause babe, I’m no saint.
I know your devils,
I know them by name.
Cause babe, I’m no saint.
I know your devils,
I know them by name.
Daughter of Epona
Posts: 2048
Joined: Mon Feb 17, 2003 10:00 pm
Joined: Mon Feb 17, 2003 10:00 pm
Location: Between Heaven and Earth
Re: La Famiglia (The Family)
4 years later
Autumn in New York was spectacular. Certainly it wasn't as picturesque as places like Vermont or Maine, with so many forests and trees to catch fire with beautiful colors of red, gold, yellow. But with so much civilization, so many buildings and acres of brick and steel, it made the small amount of stalwart trees that much more exciting to find as people rushed about their day. And for the more well-to-do citizens, they had their own private lawns and drives to show off the seasonal foliage.
Ginny's family certainly made sure of it. Their mansion was more like a country estate, located on the outskirts of the city. Poppa Lorenzo liked having a secure facility as well as a grand showpiece to impress those who he curried favor with and intimidate those he wished to bring to heel. If there was a need, and often there was, the Regatto family also owned a townhouse that took up a full city block should making it back prove inconvenient.
To Ginny, who had never been allowed to stay at the townhouse, only knew that this estate was home. At least it would be for the next six months, until she reached her majority.
That morose thought had the young woman hugging her elbows, suddenly chilled. She crossed to one of her bedroom windows and stared out at the colorful landscape. Gianni also lived in the city, where all the "action" took place, he said. He hated having to drive out here to the estate, made no secret of how boring he found the quiet grounds. Cynically, Ginny knew that he also hated leaving his casino - and his mistresses - for more than a few nights. If there was one thing she'd learned throughout this terminally long engagement, it was how bleakly obvious it was that she and Giovanni were incompatible. Oil and water, black and white, up and down.. They were polar opposites in every way. Even worse, where their differences repulsed Ginny, it seemed to only delight her fiance. God in heaven only knew why, because she certainly didn't understand.
As she watched a pretty little rabbit carefully hop it's way out from under a hedge and nibble at a patch of clover, Ginny thought back to the night their engagement was announced and that strange conversation they'd had while dancing to the sounds of New Orleans jazz. He'd called her stupid for what was obviously Ginny's inherent sheltered innocence.
There was cementing the family connections of course, but no other reason had presented itself. She was passably attractive, but no stellar debutante or Hollywood starlet. She knew how to run a house and see to family, and she had a wonderful singing voice that Lorenzo loved to trot out at strategic gatherings. But no profession, no trade. The women tied to the Regatto family did no such thing, unless it was to support the business somehow. Bookkeeping, tutoring, languages, perhaps. But such things were beyond even her; she was too well placed for menial work, not important enough to be given true responsibility. No, she grimaced. Her value lay only in being sold off to the highest bidder. Maybe her even more so; her father's prison time - and subsequent mysterious death in a cell, even though he'd been confined to solitary, was a black mark on the family. No one spoke of Elena any longer. She had been loved too much, too indulged by Nonna. Her marriage to Matthew might have potentially brought in more allies but no one ever forgot that he was not of the homeland. Indeed, he was American born of Irish stock and came from a gray area family that had loyalty to none but seemed to be able to cut world-class deals.
Now both Matthew and Elena were all but forgotten to the Regatto clan. Except for Ginny and Theresa. Ginny reached up and clasped the small locket that held a photo of each parent. Elena smiling to the photographer, Matthew sternly staring. It was a sadly accurate portrayal of her lineage. Papa had desperately wanted a son; he'd been given a daughter. Elena, a gentle and flighty sort, would have had trouble raising a strong son; she'd been given the mercy of a daughter. Ginny had tried so hard to please both of them, but had fallen short distressingly often. Too hoydenish for Mama, too feminine for Papa. So she'd lived in the gray shadows, not really a part of any world she observed or lived in. And it continued; still trying desperately to please the Regatto elders, even to the point of selling her soul away to a husband she already despised.
A discreet knock at the door brought Ginny out of her reverie. "Come in," she called, turning away from the window. A meek little mouse of a maid poked her head out from behind the door. "Excuse me, signorina. Mister Giovanni has come to call. He's waiting down in the Blue Parlor." She didn't wait for an acknowledgement before scurrying away. Why would she? Of course Ginny would have to go down to visit him. Steeling her nerves and throwing her shoulders back, she made her way down the ostentatious grand staircase and swung a left into one of the smaller parlor rooms reserved for meeting guests.
"Hello, Giovanni."
Her fiance turned from the fireplace he'd been leaning against and crossed the plush oriental rug to take her hand. He pulled her to him and brushed a dry kiss against each of her cheeks. It was only afternoon but he already smelled strongly of brandy.
"Hello, bella. I see you're looking as charming as you always do." The way he said it sounded like an insult, as always. So far, no one seemed to notice except Genevieve.
"As do you." She took her hand from his and crossed to the small, powdered blue setee. "So, to what do we owe this visit? I'm afraid most of the men are in the city, working on some sort of new deal at the dockyard. Shipping agreements, I believe."
Gianni winged up a dark eyebrow as he stood over her, refusing to sit and give up the advantage of height. "Interested in the family business, Gin?" His smirk widened as he saw her distaste at the nickname he'd given her a year or two ago. God's teeth she was too easy to rile. He should have been bored of it by now, but for some reason it kept him amused to no end. Where Ginny dreaded their upcoming wedding, he was truly looking forward to it. She would be a pleasure to break into small pieces and rebuild into an image that pleased him much more.
"No, but I do have a pair of working ears and passable hearing. Poppa Lorenzo had a telegram during luncheon the other day and made mention of it."
Gianni shrugged. "No matter. It was you I came to see."
"Me?" she repeated, the fine hairs at the back of her neck standing to attention. "Why ever for? You've shown no interest in plans for the wedding, and we've already agreed the two of us have nothing in common to converse about or pass the time in mutual amusement."
He finally deigned to sit beside her and somehow that made him all the more intimidating than when he glowered above her. "You still haven't figured it out, little songbird," he murmured. "I will have to start educating you." Faster than a snakebite he crushed his mouth against hers, pushing her back against the velvet upholstery. Gagging against the sensation, she shoved at him. When that did no good, she balled her hand into a fist like she'd seen pugilists do once at a carnival and plowed it into the side of Gianni's face.
He roared more in surprise than in pain and grabbed Ginny by the shoulders. Like a sack of flour he threw her to the ground and she flailed her arms, catching the small coffee table and sending a Waterford crystal vase crashing to the ground where it broke into a thousand shards against the fireplace. "Are you enlightened yet, Gin?" he asked as he grabbed her up again just as the maid from earlier came rushing in.
"Oh, excuse me!" she stuttered, seeing the two of them in what looked like an embrace. "I heard a crash and thought -"
"Yes, thank you," Giovanni interrupted and gestured with one hand to the broken crystal. "Signorina Genevieve had a clumsy moment and knocked the vase off the table. See to cleaning it up, will you?"
The maid stared a moment longer then bobbed a quick curtsy. She disappeared again, presumably to get a broom and dustpan.
Ginny wrenched herself away and stood behind the small sofa, hoping to put as much distance between them as possible. "You are a slimy piece of gutter filth," she spat and scrubbed the back of her hand against her mouth. It came away with a smeared drop of blood and she realized her lip was cut.
"And you are a spoiled waste of a whey-faced prude." He wiggled his jaw to make sure her punch hadn't dislocated anything. Great, now he would have to grow out his stubble until the swelling and bruising subsided. Still, it had been worth it to see that spark of defiance boil and spill over. Yes, he'd been right. She really did have potential.
"Let me spell it out for you, Gin, before your mouse of a maid gets back. I like that you hate me. I like that you despise me. It's going to be so much more fun to break you and mold you into a suitable wife. I like control, Gin. That's why I'm good at business. I control goods, deals, money. I control men and the miserable sheep that see my casino keeps running smoothly. I control the patrons of that casino, and the clubs." He stalked forward again, a predator on the hunt. "But the way I see it, where else does a man have ultimate control than over his wife? Especially one who has to submit even though she'd rather burn in hell than be bound to him."
"You're sick, Gianni!"
"Perhaps. But I am going to win this one, Gin. I've bided my time and waited long enough. And here is where we begin your education, bella. Because this is the last time you get a free pass at disobedience. Next time, there will be consequences."
The maid returned just then, carrying a small hand brush and dustpan. Gianni had already affixed a pleasantly bland expression on his face as he bowed to Ginny. "I'll see myself out, Genevieve. I hope you have a pleasant evening. I hear that my father plans on having us use our box at the opera this Friday. I'll have my driver pick you up at five and bring you into town."
"Are you alright, miss?" the maid whispered carefully once they'd both heard the front door close.
"Yes, thank you Ethel," Ginny replied just as quietly. "I will return to my room. If you please, convey my regrets to my Grandmother that I will be unable to join her for dinner. I find that I have a terrible headache."
"Yes, signorina."
Autumn in New York was spectacular. Certainly it wasn't as picturesque as places like Vermont or Maine, with so many forests and trees to catch fire with beautiful colors of red, gold, yellow. But with so much civilization, so many buildings and acres of brick and steel, it made the small amount of stalwart trees that much more exciting to find as people rushed about their day. And for the more well-to-do citizens, they had their own private lawns and drives to show off the seasonal foliage.
Ginny's family certainly made sure of it. Their mansion was more like a country estate, located on the outskirts of the city. Poppa Lorenzo liked having a secure facility as well as a grand showpiece to impress those who he curried favor with and intimidate those he wished to bring to heel. If there was a need, and often there was, the Regatto family also owned a townhouse that took up a full city block should making it back prove inconvenient.
To Ginny, who had never been allowed to stay at the townhouse, only knew that this estate was home. At least it would be for the next six months, until she reached her majority.
That morose thought had the young woman hugging her elbows, suddenly chilled. She crossed to one of her bedroom windows and stared out at the colorful landscape. Gianni also lived in the city, where all the "action" took place, he said. He hated having to drive out here to the estate, made no secret of how boring he found the quiet grounds. Cynically, Ginny knew that he also hated leaving his casino - and his mistresses - for more than a few nights. If there was one thing she'd learned throughout this terminally long engagement, it was how bleakly obvious it was that she and Giovanni were incompatible. Oil and water, black and white, up and down.. They were polar opposites in every way. Even worse, where their differences repulsed Ginny, it seemed to only delight her fiance. God in heaven only knew why, because she certainly didn't understand.
As she watched a pretty little rabbit carefully hop it's way out from under a hedge and nibble at a patch of clover, Ginny thought back to the night their engagement was announced and that strange conversation they'd had while dancing to the sounds of New Orleans jazz. He'd called her stupid for what was obviously Ginny's inherent sheltered innocence.
There was cementing the family connections of course, but no other reason had presented itself. She was passably attractive, but no stellar debutante or Hollywood starlet. She knew how to run a house and see to family, and she had a wonderful singing voice that Lorenzo loved to trot out at strategic gatherings. But no profession, no trade. The women tied to the Regatto family did no such thing, unless it was to support the business somehow. Bookkeeping, tutoring, languages, perhaps. But such things were beyond even her; she was too well placed for menial work, not important enough to be given true responsibility. No, she grimaced. Her value lay only in being sold off to the highest bidder. Maybe her even more so; her father's prison time - and subsequent mysterious death in a cell, even though he'd been confined to solitary, was a black mark on the family. No one spoke of Elena any longer. She had been loved too much, too indulged by Nonna. Her marriage to Matthew might have potentially brought in more allies but no one ever forgot that he was not of the homeland. Indeed, he was American born of Irish stock and came from a gray area family that had loyalty to none but seemed to be able to cut world-class deals.
Now both Matthew and Elena were all but forgotten to the Regatto clan. Except for Ginny and Theresa. Ginny reached up and clasped the small locket that held a photo of each parent. Elena smiling to the photographer, Matthew sternly staring. It was a sadly accurate portrayal of her lineage. Papa had desperately wanted a son; he'd been given a daughter. Elena, a gentle and flighty sort, would have had trouble raising a strong son; she'd been given the mercy of a daughter. Ginny had tried so hard to please both of them, but had fallen short distressingly often. Too hoydenish for Mama, too feminine for Papa. So she'd lived in the gray shadows, not really a part of any world she observed or lived in. And it continued; still trying desperately to please the Regatto elders, even to the point of selling her soul away to a husband she already despised.
A discreet knock at the door brought Ginny out of her reverie. "Come in," she called, turning away from the window. A meek little mouse of a maid poked her head out from behind the door. "Excuse me, signorina. Mister Giovanni has come to call. He's waiting down in the Blue Parlor." She didn't wait for an acknowledgement before scurrying away. Why would she? Of course Ginny would have to go down to visit him. Steeling her nerves and throwing her shoulders back, she made her way down the ostentatious grand staircase and swung a left into one of the smaller parlor rooms reserved for meeting guests.
"Hello, Giovanni."
Her fiance turned from the fireplace he'd been leaning against and crossed the plush oriental rug to take her hand. He pulled her to him and brushed a dry kiss against each of her cheeks. It was only afternoon but he already smelled strongly of brandy.
"Hello, bella. I see you're looking as charming as you always do." The way he said it sounded like an insult, as always. So far, no one seemed to notice except Genevieve.
"As do you." She took her hand from his and crossed to the small, powdered blue setee. "So, to what do we owe this visit? I'm afraid most of the men are in the city, working on some sort of new deal at the dockyard. Shipping agreements, I believe."
Gianni winged up a dark eyebrow as he stood over her, refusing to sit and give up the advantage of height. "Interested in the family business, Gin?" His smirk widened as he saw her distaste at the nickname he'd given her a year or two ago. God's teeth she was too easy to rile. He should have been bored of it by now, but for some reason it kept him amused to no end. Where Ginny dreaded their upcoming wedding, he was truly looking forward to it. She would be a pleasure to break into small pieces and rebuild into an image that pleased him much more.
"No, but I do have a pair of working ears and passable hearing. Poppa Lorenzo had a telegram during luncheon the other day and made mention of it."
Gianni shrugged. "No matter. It was you I came to see."
"Me?" she repeated, the fine hairs at the back of her neck standing to attention. "Why ever for? You've shown no interest in plans for the wedding, and we've already agreed the two of us have nothing in common to converse about or pass the time in mutual amusement."
He finally deigned to sit beside her and somehow that made him all the more intimidating than when he glowered above her. "You still haven't figured it out, little songbird," he murmured. "I will have to start educating you." Faster than a snakebite he crushed his mouth against hers, pushing her back against the velvet upholstery. Gagging against the sensation, she shoved at him. When that did no good, she balled her hand into a fist like she'd seen pugilists do once at a carnival and plowed it into the side of Gianni's face.
He roared more in surprise than in pain and grabbed Ginny by the shoulders. Like a sack of flour he threw her to the ground and she flailed her arms, catching the small coffee table and sending a Waterford crystal vase crashing to the ground where it broke into a thousand shards against the fireplace. "Are you enlightened yet, Gin?" he asked as he grabbed her up again just as the maid from earlier came rushing in.
"Oh, excuse me!" she stuttered, seeing the two of them in what looked like an embrace. "I heard a crash and thought -"
"Yes, thank you," Giovanni interrupted and gestured with one hand to the broken crystal. "Signorina Genevieve had a clumsy moment and knocked the vase off the table. See to cleaning it up, will you?"
The maid stared a moment longer then bobbed a quick curtsy. She disappeared again, presumably to get a broom and dustpan.
Ginny wrenched herself away and stood behind the small sofa, hoping to put as much distance between them as possible. "You are a slimy piece of gutter filth," she spat and scrubbed the back of her hand against her mouth. It came away with a smeared drop of blood and she realized her lip was cut.
"And you are a spoiled waste of a whey-faced prude." He wiggled his jaw to make sure her punch hadn't dislocated anything. Great, now he would have to grow out his stubble until the swelling and bruising subsided. Still, it had been worth it to see that spark of defiance boil and spill over. Yes, he'd been right. She really did have potential.
"Let me spell it out for you, Gin, before your mouse of a maid gets back. I like that you hate me. I like that you despise me. It's going to be so much more fun to break you and mold you into a suitable wife. I like control, Gin. That's why I'm good at business. I control goods, deals, money. I control men and the miserable sheep that see my casino keeps running smoothly. I control the patrons of that casino, and the clubs." He stalked forward again, a predator on the hunt. "But the way I see it, where else does a man have ultimate control than over his wife? Especially one who has to submit even though she'd rather burn in hell than be bound to him."
"You're sick, Gianni!"
"Perhaps. But I am going to win this one, Gin. I've bided my time and waited long enough. And here is where we begin your education, bella. Because this is the last time you get a free pass at disobedience. Next time, there will be consequences."
The maid returned just then, carrying a small hand brush and dustpan. Gianni had already affixed a pleasantly bland expression on his face as he bowed to Ginny. "I'll see myself out, Genevieve. I hope you have a pleasant evening. I hear that my father plans on having us use our box at the opera this Friday. I'll have my driver pick you up at five and bring you into town."
"Are you alright, miss?" the maid whispered carefully once they'd both heard the front door close.
"Yes, thank you Ethel," Ginny replied just as quietly. "I will return to my room. If you please, convey my regrets to my Grandmother that I will be unable to join her for dinner. I find that I have a terrible headache."
"Yes, signorina."
Keep your confessions,
Cause babe, I’m no saint.
I know your devils,
I know them by name.
Cause babe, I’m no saint.
I know your devils,
I know them by name.
Daughter of Epona
Posts: 2048
Joined: Mon Feb 17, 2003 10:00 pm
Joined: Mon Feb 17, 2003 10:00 pm
Location: Between Heaven and Earth
Re: La Famiglia (The Family)
6 months later
Spring was coming and with it, the event that would mark the end of life as she knew it.
After that incident in the parlor, Gianni had made it quite clear what Genevieve could expect as his wife. It was that day that Ginny decided she would never have a part of it. Knowing that no one in the family except Theresa would help her and risk the wrath of Lorenzo, she resigned herself to the reality she was on her own. Nor could she even confide in Nana about her plans. It was more for the older woman's protection that anything, because she would have helped Ginny - and paid dearly for it.
So Ginny had become the resourceful little Ant in that little children's fable. Tucking away supplies and allowance money, stashing them in places like rolled up nylons, under the insoles of her shoes, sewn into the hems of her dresses. She even purloined a rather serviceable pocket knife left behind by one of the gardeners a month ago. A pistol was out of the question, unfortunately. Even if she could find one to steal, she highly doubted her ability to actually hit anything in a needful situation. Better to steal away quietly, without fuss. If her plan was successful, Ginny would be long gone by the time anyone realized she was missing.
Slipping on a pair of beautiful ivory lace gloves, Ginny checked herself in the mirror one last time. With careful cosmetics, no one would be able to tell the dark circles rimming her eyes, or the hollow paleness of her cheeks. She couldn't do much about the dullness in her eyes or the fact her clothes hung looser on her thinning frame, but no one ever commented. Maybe Theresa noticed, but had kept her own counsel on the matter. So long as Ginny didn't actually fall ill or present an unkempt appearance, who was to care?
"Your driver is downstairs, Miss."
"Thank you, Stames. Please see that the dressing gown bag is put in the trunk, and the hatbox."
"Yes, Miss."
A cold prickle of sweat skated down her spine as she descended the staircase a moment later. The pocket knife bumped against her thigh from deep within her coat pocket. The money sewn into her hem brushing like ghostly whispers over the skin of her legs. Today was the day; the only time where Ginny could anticipate several hours of time where she could slip through the cracks and disappear before the hounds were released to drag her back into hell.
It was her final bridal fitting appointment and Ginny had wheedled and manipulated herself out of a guard. After all, she would have the driver waiting outside the exclusive little boutique and surrounded by staff within the salon. The difficulty would be timing, but there was no help for it. She had to get away while within the city, and during daylight. Despite her sheltered upbringing, Ginny knew too well what would befall a lone woman in New York after dark. And she had less than no chance at escaping from the manor itself.
Steeling her nerves for what was to come, she took one last look at the family house, it's stalwart brick facade and imposing features. With a silent goodbye, she slid into the plush backseat of the Rolls Royce and watched it disappear.
Spring was coming and with it, the event that would mark the end of life as she knew it.
After that incident in the parlor, Gianni had made it quite clear what Genevieve could expect as his wife. It was that day that Ginny decided she would never have a part of it. Knowing that no one in the family except Theresa would help her and risk the wrath of Lorenzo, she resigned herself to the reality she was on her own. Nor could she even confide in Nana about her plans. It was more for the older woman's protection that anything, because she would have helped Ginny - and paid dearly for it.
So Ginny had become the resourceful little Ant in that little children's fable. Tucking away supplies and allowance money, stashing them in places like rolled up nylons, under the insoles of her shoes, sewn into the hems of her dresses. She even purloined a rather serviceable pocket knife left behind by one of the gardeners a month ago. A pistol was out of the question, unfortunately. Even if she could find one to steal, she highly doubted her ability to actually hit anything in a needful situation. Better to steal away quietly, without fuss. If her plan was successful, Ginny would be long gone by the time anyone realized she was missing.
Slipping on a pair of beautiful ivory lace gloves, Ginny checked herself in the mirror one last time. With careful cosmetics, no one would be able to tell the dark circles rimming her eyes, or the hollow paleness of her cheeks. She couldn't do much about the dullness in her eyes or the fact her clothes hung looser on her thinning frame, but no one ever commented. Maybe Theresa noticed, but had kept her own counsel on the matter. So long as Ginny didn't actually fall ill or present an unkempt appearance, who was to care?
"Your driver is downstairs, Miss."
"Thank you, Stames. Please see that the dressing gown bag is put in the trunk, and the hatbox."
"Yes, Miss."
A cold prickle of sweat skated down her spine as she descended the staircase a moment later. The pocket knife bumped against her thigh from deep within her coat pocket. The money sewn into her hem brushing like ghostly whispers over the skin of her legs. Today was the day; the only time where Ginny could anticipate several hours of time where she could slip through the cracks and disappear before the hounds were released to drag her back into hell.
It was her final bridal fitting appointment and Ginny had wheedled and manipulated herself out of a guard. After all, she would have the driver waiting outside the exclusive little boutique and surrounded by staff within the salon. The difficulty would be timing, but there was no help for it. She had to get away while within the city, and during daylight. Despite her sheltered upbringing, Ginny knew too well what would befall a lone woman in New York after dark. And she had less than no chance at escaping from the manor itself.
Steeling her nerves for what was to come, she took one last look at the family house, it's stalwart brick facade and imposing features. With a silent goodbye, she slid into the plush backseat of the Rolls Royce and watched it disappear.
Keep your confessions,
Cause babe, I’m no saint.
I know your devils,
I know them by name.
Cause babe, I’m no saint.
I know your devils,
I know them by name.
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