𝐈'𝐦 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫.
~𝐑𝐚𝐩𝐡 𝐁𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢~

𝐋𝐢𝐚

My father's voice, though unfamiliar, was comforting to me. He was there, an inch away from my hand. I could touch him if I were so inclined. I did not; touching him would mean I was afraid, unsure, or terrified, part of which was true.

I stood erect, my hands on my back beside him, my eyes roaming around the men seated around the vast table, reading each of their expressions, stopping at Carrie Verratti standing against the wall between two of her grandfather's men.

The room was full of testosterone; Carrie and I were the only women. No wonder my father had said gentlemen forgetting we two were present. I would take that with him later; right now, I had a job to do because I knew after this, the three men I loved would have questions for Luc and me.

"I appreciate you taking the time out of your busy schedule to attend this Impromptu meeting," my father said. The men nodded, adding incoherent words to accompany the nods. Although I couldn't tell how they perceived him, I knew that more than a few respected him; their men were in awe of him. It was in how they stared at him when he spoke.

"I think it is important to start with introductions. On my right is Luca Bianchi, he is Bruno's son. I know most of you might know him from racing," the men clapped, smiling as they looked at him with revered glances.

"He is doing spectacularly on the track," Don Verratti said, staring at Luc with not only in reverence but admiration too. "Derek Schneider is a pussy, isn't he?"

That brought a reluctant smile to Luc's face, with the room letting out low throaty laughter. I guess it was a consensus that Derek was a pussy, not that I knew him except for what I'd heard from Luca.

There was talk of racing and cars for almost ten minutes before my father stopped it, turning his face to me; a tiny smile tugged across his lips. "This one, on my right, is my daughter Lia." They knew who I was, I could tell, just as my father knew their children and grandchildren. It was their business, in their best interest, to know us as well.

"Has your eyes." Don Verratti mumbled, and the boy there is the spitting image of Bruno." He added, pointing at Luc. Throwing a quick look at him as if I wanted to confirm that, knowing very well I could tell him by his silhouette alone, our eyes met, and suddenly I couldn't look away until he did.

This is the reason I had avoided looking at him. I knew someone might tell we were having sex by just looking at how I looked at him.

I knew I looked at him differently since the first time we slept together few weeks ago. I couldn't help it, but he somehow managed to look so nonchalant it was beginning to piss me off.

Men, especially straight men, are sometimes a different breed. A part of me will always visibly gravitate toward Luc no matter where we are; he, on the other side, will be capable of hiding his feelings for me at will. We are different, and it angers me as much as it Impresses me.

Once we were done with introductions, the men started discussing problems, including financial issues facing each of their families.

When my father first told us we would be attending this meeting, I thought the reason was to introduce us to their world, but it turned out introduction was not the primary core of it. This, I thought as each man spoke of their businesses making losses in the last few months, was a regular, usual confab.

Luca, Carrie, I, and the men leaning against the wall stood silently as we listened. It closed my mind that this was why uncle Rom said he wouldn't make a good boss. I now understood what he meant by whiny grown-ass men.

Clearing my throat, I pulled out a handkerchief from my blazer to blow my nose, loudly to leave an echo. The noise, the complaints were beginning to make me angry. It felt as if they wanted my father to pull a magic string or lamp to change their tide or wave away inflation.

They looked at me; I looked back unapologetically.  I could see uncle Rom trying to hide his smile.

"I'm sorry," I told them, even though we all knew I wasn't sorry.

"I understand businesses are not doing well now, but what exactly do you expect me to do?"

That was a good question. I didn't think being the boss equaled being the financial provider.

The room went quiet. It was no secret, I imagined among the people present, that my father and uncles were incredibly wealthy.  In fact, I was sure their wealth was more than these ten families combined, and they were also substantially rich.

They looked at each other as if debating whether to tell him or not. I could tell it was not something they were afraid to voice.

"I have been the boss for years," his strong voice boomed around the room, the subtle undertones of warning trimmed with a side smile told of knowledge of what they wanted to ask of him. "And when I can longer lead, Luca will take over," he added, his darker eyes darker than I had ever seen them. I couldn't help it; I kept moving my gaze to him from time to time, waiting to see whether in this man I could find my father or my mother's husband. He had still not appeared in almost one hour we had been there.

"I have told you enough times that I will not tolerate drugs, child prostitution or child trafficking. What you do with you lives and money is none of my business, but I will not allow any business in connection to me to do with those three things. Do you understand that, Luca?"

"Perfectly!" Luca acknowledged.

****************************************
                           𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐚
*****************************************

On my fifteenth birthday, one year after I left home, my mom and dad visited me in Italy. Although I was disappointed the whole family didn't come, I was glad my mother was there, like she had been every other birthday since I was born. It was also the year I started to understand my role in the family. I was the firstborn, I was also the heir apparent. It was my job to protect the other children, and the families those children would make as well as other ten strangers who had families too. It was a responsibility I didn't want at the time; I remember thinking all I wanted was to race, kiss, and sleep with Lia; nothing else mattered beyond that.

In the years that followed, I came to appreciate the role. It was my duty, my responsibility. And as my father often says, duty and responsibilities should be taken as necessities.

Standing in that room beside uncle Raph, it hit me quite unexpectedly; this wasn't just in theory anymore; it was real. This would be my life in some years, hopefully when I retire from racing.

"Perfectly," I answered confidently.

"Now, what exactly do you want from me?" Uncle Raph asked again. While the men at the table avoided his gaze, Carrie Verratti fixed hers on his face. She had spunk; I could tell by choice of her hairstyle.

In a world dominated by men, women had to curve their way in order to be perceived seriously. Lia in blood red didn't have to have a stern hairdo, her father was right, the game was rigged in our favour, but she was also different. She might fool everyone around her, including herself into thinking her heart was soft, but it wasn't —Lia was her father's daughter in every way. Dangerously, vicious when crossed, and downright pretty when she could. She had a backbone, a strength borne from knowing who she was and the conviction of knowing she could kill, hide the body and get away with it.

Caterina had seen that side of her too. When we met again after recuperating from my accident, she said Lia's black eyes were terrifying. "There was no emotion when she looked at me, her eyes were hollow. She scared me."

I had laughed, "is that why you never came back to see me?"

She had shrugged, "that, and because Matteo said your Lia doesn't play around."

She was the first person to call Lia mine. In retrospect, my breakup with Caterina had been amicable because of how Lia treated her. I figured she didn't want to risk bumping into her in the future.

"Carrie, you have something to say?" I asked, and the the room shifted its attention to her.

She cleared her throat, weaving her fingers together, perhaps from nerves or just getting her bearings together.

"I have an app... I was...I was wondering whether don Boselli would like to invest in it."

I looked at uncle Raph, Rom, and my father before moving my gaze back to Carrie.

"What is it about?"

"For medical purposes." that was ambiguous, I thought as I nodded, hoping my nod would prompt her to go on.

It did not.

"Go on," I heard Lia's impatience and curiosity in her tone.

"It's an app that can diagnose, identify and direct a patient to the nearest specialist in their city."

"Have you completed it?"

She blushed, or maybe it was an awkward flush; I couldn't tell.

"It's not complete," her voice trailed, then added, "yet."

"Is it almost?" I continued the questioning feeling as if I was pulling a bone from a dog.

She shook her head. "What investment do you want if there is no App?" Uncle Rom asked. Carrie flushed again; it wasn't blushing; she loathed attention.

"I know the basics, but I can have programmers have it ready in six months or less."

"Whose idea is it?"

Her eyes twitched, glistening with tears she refused to shed. "Mine." I nodded, knowing there was probably a sad story behind those tears.

"I'm not sure about investing, but if you can be at Pulse on Monday, we'll have Sienna listen to what you have to say and she can translate for us.

It wasn't my place to say that, but I felt as if uncle Raph didn't mind me making that decision.

Carrie fixed her gaze on me, her eyes widening a little before looking at uncle Raph who nodded.

"I'm sorry; who is Sienna?" if I had been looking for proof these men did not teach their progenies as our patriarchs did, this was it.

We knew all of theirs, though to be fair, only Lia and I did.

"One of our sisters," Lia said before I could answer. "She is very tech savvy ." That was an understatement; Sienna was great at it even though she was still in high school.

Carrie nodded. "Is she a programmer?"

I smiled, "not yet, she is sixteen, but she knows her way around it."

Carried nodded again, averting her eyes.

"If there is anything I can do, you know where to find me. " uncle Raph said. The men didn't let him end the meeting without telling him what was expected of him. They blamed him for losing money or not profiting from what they termed as money-making jointures.

It was disgusting to hear Romigi talk about how much money they would make a night with underage girls.

I needed a drink, I thought. I had never wanted to drink to oblivion until I heard older me, old enough to be my grandfather, talk about girls as young as thirteen as if they were grade heifers.

"It's good business," one of them earnestly said, appealing to uncle Raph.

"What is the appeal?" Lia asked calmly, her eyes turning hollow. I could glimpse what Caterina referred to as emotionless.

"What?"

"What is this appeal older men have with young girls?"

"Boys, too," the man added as if that made anything better.

Lia, me, and Carries gasped at the same time. I imagined nothing shocked any other person in that room.

"Do you like boys?" Lia's calm voice was almost inaudible, yet everyone heard it.

"No, I prefer girls."

"How old?"

"Young ones are preferable, but untouched can fetch a tight sum."

"You sell their virginity too?"

He was beginning to fidget?"

He thought Lia's calm voice meant she might have been considering it.

"Look, it's good business." he insisted.

"Dad." Lia shouted, her voice loud. I swear it shook the house.

"No!" uncle Raph said it like an order. It took a minute for me to realize Lia had wanted permission to kill Romigi.

I guess I wasn't the only one privy to Lia's dark, crazy side. Her father knew too.