Owned (Dellucci Mafia Duet)

Mario takes in a deep breath. “Well, it is what it is. We will do our utmost best to save Marcello, of course.”

“But what if we all end up dying?”

“We?” He makes a face. “Oh, no, honey. You stay here.”

My eyes narrow. “The fuck I am.”

“Marcello wouldn’t want you to—”

“He would want me to do what I need to do,” I interject. “What I think is best.”

Mario straightens his back, but after a few seconds, a tepid smile appears on his old face. “You’ve grown.”

I smile. “That’s what time on the streets does to a girl.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’ve just learned to take control and lead because it fits you.” He winks, and it makes me blush.

Maybe he is right. Maybe it isn’t just the fact that I needed to survive which made me stand up for myself. But also because I care for Marcello, and this family belongs to him. How could I not want to fight for that?

“What do you have in mind?”

I rub my lips together while staring at the maps and the texts Melanie sent me, trying to figure out how to go about this with as few men as possible. And then it hits me. Men like them love attention. Love to feel in power.

“What if I pretend to be a willing victim?”

Mario frowns. “I’m not sure I understand …”

“I dress up, pretend I’m offering myself up to the Polish don because Marcello is unworthy and doesn’t deserve me. He’ll fall for it simply because Marcello owned me, and mobsters always want what another man has.”

“I fail to see how this is going to make things better. Doesn’t that mean we’ll have to rescue you as well?”

“No, what I mean is … I’ll hide some weapons,” I say. “And then when I finally find my way to Marcello, I’ll free him, and we break out together.”

“That sounds like either the stupidest or the bravest plan I’ve ever heard of.”

“But do we have another choice?” I say, putting my hands against my side. “Because as far as I know, we were severely outnumbered, even on Marcello’s own damn grounds. I can’t imagine the number of people they have cooped up in their territory. Risking more of Marcello’s men’s lives is the only way we can get him out of there.”

Mario sighs and nods a little. “Well, you are right about that, but Marcello would not want you to risk—”

“Marcello isn’t here. I am. And I’m saying that I’m willing to risk it. For him.”

The gravity of my words finally begins to sink in.

“It’s insane,” Mario replies, and he adds a sigh as he leans in. “But let’s try.”

“Do we really have to do this?” Andrea asks.

She refused to stay at the church even though I begged her to. And I know her. When she refuses to do something, that’s it. Nothing I can say or do will deter her from seeing me off. So she’s right here in the same van as I am while I’m hiding underneath a long trench coat wearing the most god-awful whorish outfit I could gather. It’s a red leather dress, barely long enough to cover my thighs. All so I can snag the attention of the Polish don and convince him to let me see Marcello.

“Do we really have to do this?” Ricardo says, staring at me from across the van.

I look up at him and give him a stern look. “Yes.”

Even though he’s Marcello’s guard, Marcello isn’t here to lead right now. I am. And since I carry his child, his guards should listen to me.

“It’ll never work,” he says, and he turns his head to look outside.

I know he’s apprehensive. I am too. Even Mario doesn’t like the idea. But what else are we supposed to do? Just sit around and wait until we’ve grown enough numbers? Until Marcello rolls over in his grave?

Fuck no.

“I can do this. Trust me,” I say, and I take the weapons and shove them down my boots and one deep in my panties just in case.

“They’ll search you,” Ricardo says.

“Not that place, I’m sure,” I retort.

“You don’t know those men,” he replies, clenching his teeth.

“I do, and I’m not scared. I have something they want,” I reply, and I rub my belly.

“All the more reason to stay at the church.”

“Guys,” Mario interrupts, raising his hand. “Stop fighting. We’ve got enough trouble as is.”

“Right,” I say, eyeing Ricardo, who looks away.

Mario leans forward and tugs at my shirt, saying, “If I may.” He nudges it upward and sticks something to my skin, then pats down my shirt. “Listening device. If anything goes wrong, we’re pulling you out.”

“But—”

He throws me a damning look. “End of story.”

I nod as my heartbeat begins to rise. Andrea gets up and gives me one last kiss, which feels strangely final. “Good luck out there, and come back to me.”