Whispers Through the Family

 Prologue

I had been privileged by being born DeLanie DeCozzori, and I had also been protected. As the firstborn daughter of Francisco DeCozzori, I had recently been disengaged to a doctor from Florence, Italia whom my father seemed to delight in, but after finding the mass assortment of photos on his hard drive, I was certain getting out from under that bullet was probably a blessing in disguise. My eyes slid down to my fingertips as I looked over my fresh manicure. I sighed as I listened to the Priest going through the motions. The fact that Michael DelSantiago had wound up dead was certainly no surprise, but I wasn’t going to let on that I knew that. With my mother to my left and my eldest brother to the right, I sat in silence as the Priest continued his speech,

“Receive the Lord's blessing. The Lord bless you and watch over you. The Lord make his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you. The Lord look kindly on you and give you peace; In the Name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” the Priest concluded.

“Amen,” I murmured, pursing my ruby-red lips as I drew in a quick breath and glanced at my brother, Lorenzo. All I wanted to do was get out of the mass and back into my car so I could make the long trip through Manhattan and put the whole thing behind me. The press, however, would never let things happen so easily. I stood up suddenly and smiled at my mother Marchesa, “Excuse me, mother,” I stated. Marchesa perked a brow and bit into her lip nervously, but I knew it was neither the time nor the place.

“Can you just wait a few minutes? I think your father wants to speak with you.” Marchesa stated her lower lip wavering slightly as she spoke. I sighed and closed my eyes momentarily.

“Mama, I really have a long ride home.” I remarked. Lorenzo peered up at me as I stood with her back to the closed casket just on the opposite side of the pew.

“No, DeLanie – Papa needs to talk to you,” Lorenzo stated. I perked my brow and made direct eye contact with him.

“Fine, Capo, please tell Papa that I am going to the restroom,” I whispered. I knew better than to make a scene in such a public place. Especially, with the upcoming trial – which I suspected was what Papa DeCozzori wanted to discuss. Lorenzo stared back blankly – a steely silence exuding him as he maintained his gaze. I forced myself to smile and nodded politely toward him. My eyes flickered out across the congregation as I held my posture straight. I slid past my mother deliberately averting my eyes away as I proceeded toward the back of the sanctuary. Just a few steps. Keep that smile unwavering. Goosebumps riddled my flesh as I felt snapping gazes instantly upon me – and then hushed whispers began.

“I think she knows,” Ida Franco whispered into the ear of Damien DeMarco, almost in sync with my passing her. My eyes flickered from my brother toward the woman's just in time for our gazes to sync as they met. And it was just then that a strange shiver floated through my veins. What was it about her that seemed to pull and tug at my innermost thoughts - with nothing more than a glance? Damien didn’t seem to flinch at all, even as I looked back at Ida – whose complexion seemed to instantly pale, almost as if she had witnessed a phantasm.

  Chapter One:

DeLanie

Drip.

The aggravating sound of the kitchen sink dripping could be heard across the dining room. As if the echo of each droplet was meant to be a torturous sound that I would never escape. I tapped my lacquered nails against the modern glass coffee table and snapped my head around to glance back at the plumber.

“Is this going to take long?” This was the last place I had imagined spending the better half of my morning, but somehow it had happened. Which really surprised me, to be frank. Usually, my father had everything perfectly lined up but somehow today I was supposed to be the stand-in supervisor while this man tried – emphasis on the word tried, to fix one of our tenant’s sinks. I had no idea how my father had gotten into real estate in Miami, and I never cared to ask. It was just another of the many things I was expected to handle – at the drop of a hat, whenever he decided was best. So, here I was.

“I’m sorry Ms. DeCozzori, it seems this clog is a toughie.” Remarked Roberto, the name of the plumber. I pursed my lips.

“A toughie?” I asked. Wow, cute way to word it. I gulped slightly and prayed to the Sweet Virgin that didn’t translate into several more hours. I stood up, smoothing my palms over the tight-fitting black business skirt – complete with tiny grey and white pinstripes. It was a great offset for my sunhat and being that it was an early fall day, I didn’t want to absorb too much sun too early. All those skin cancer advertisements had scared me straight a long time ago. Not that it made any real difference, but darker Italian roots shone through, and I retained a coppery olive complexion for most of the year. If I wanted, I could have sunbathed and become an entirely different warm bronze – but I cared about aging and though I was only twenty-two years old, I didn’t need to add fifteen years to my body. My thirty-year-old self would thank me, I told me so – taking great pride in my appearance just as my Blessed Mama had taught me to.

“Yeah, I’m not sure what happened. Do these tenants have children?” Roberto asked, his voice echoing from beneath the sink.

“Um, I can’t say I know, but…” I glanced around the living room – it was well polished and decorated, but there was one thing that majorly stood out of place; a child’s stroller, complete with diaper bag and all the necessities for keeping a toddler coddled, “It looks like a toddler has been here.”

“That may be just it – I mean, it’s just odd that it’s the sink though. Typically, it’s a toy lodged in the commode.” Roberto stated. I frowned. I was certainly glad my role was only in watching to make sure Roberto didn’t swipe anything from our tenants, and not actually delving my hands into their shit-box in search of a toy.

“Um, well – it’s really starting to get late here and I’m kind of hungry,” I said, hoping he would catch my drift. I didn’t want to spend another moment with this guy, and I had already sacrificed my morning latte with Sonja at Starbucks. I figured by now Papa ought to let me off the hook.

“Oh, please don’t think you are forced to stay, Ms. DeCozzori I can assure you, I would never do anything to upset your father. He is a very important customer to my father and me. Nothing will be disrupted – I swear to you on the Virgin.” Roberto murmured. My lip quirked and I smirked instantly. This was just what I had hoped for – an easy out. It helped to have trustworthy workers who knew who my daddy was, and I took advantage of it every second I got.

“Fantastic. Thank you so much, Roberto.” I muttered as I turned to walk out the door.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

I could feel the sensation of eyes burning into my back as I sauntered out of the room and grinned – I knew he was watching me. I doubted there was a single man who couldn’t watch me. I had been taught to carry myself like the treasure I was – because that is what my parents wanted. For men to desire me, to the point that they would drop billions of dollars for the opportunity to deflower me and make me theirs. Sadly, Roberto didn’t fit the bill of what my bidders upheld. The idyllic husband would be an upstanding man of Italian heritage. Someone that my father could profit off of – complete with his own strong arm of power, which was what my father respected most. As great as having standards was though, none of them were mine. And that meant that what I wanted, and who I would choose for myself would never be brought into consideration. So far, I hadn’t been propositioned for marriage by any of them, but I knew my time was running out. I held my head high as I made my way back down the interior hallways of Oro de Italia Apartments – Gold of Italy, which was fitting because everything had a beige and gold accent. The carpeting was diamond shaped with the lighter-themed beige being the main color with crisscrossing large golden bars that created the diamond’s shapes. This type of European nod was evidence of my father’s strong bias toward Italia. It was in the very interior of everything he owned – in some fashion or form, whether that be distinct Italian leather seats or some other lavish customization. As I crossed out of the building I strode toward the street and hit the alarm button on my key fob.

Chirp! Chirp!

I opened the door and sat down only for my phone to begin vibrating against my hip. I pulled it from my pocket and hit the talk button,

“Hello?”

“DeLanie?” My father, Francisco DeCozzori’s deep Italian accent slithered against my earlobe.

“Oh, hi, Papa,” I muttered.

“Don’t, oh hi, Papa me, DeLanie. Why are you on camera about to leave Oro de Italia?” he asked, not even skipping a beat. I sunk against the seat.

“Roberto has it under control, Papa. I just wanted to take a lunch break. I’m famished.” I murmured, hoping he would buy it.

“Hm, well what time did you get there this morning?”

“A quarter past seven, Papa…”

“And it’s nearly one o’clock and he still has not finished?”

“Well, he said it was a bit of a toughie, but he promised he would ensure it is done properly. He even said his father considers you a very important customer who he would never want to disappoint.” I kept the focus off myself – a trait my mother had done a damned good job of teaching me. It was the only way to survive as ladies of the Mafia. And, with power, money, and influence, I had quickly learned how valuable articulation was. Hence the grin that spread out across my lips the moment my father resumed to talk.

“Hm, well then I suppose I will have to take it up with them later if that doesn’t come to pass.” I knew what that meant, and for the sake of Roberto and his father, I sure hoped he could deliver on what he had vowed to me. Miami was a vast place – with lots, and lots of water, and shady people yearning for the chance to do some dirty deeds for hella dirt cheap. Not to mention the alligators, that was an entirely different subject. One I did my best to steer clear from and turn a healthy blind eye toward.

“I’m sorry, Papa, but I am honestly starving,” I remarked. He was a stern man, but he did have some flexibilities, and I had always been Daddy’s Little Princesa.

“It’s alright, Princesa. Roberto should have been finished hours ago, and normally he usually is. Makes you wonder what’s going on with those pipes.” Daddy murmured.

“Well, you never know – it looked like the tenants have been having toddlers over. I hear, they are crafty about the things they put down drains.” I offered, hoping to give Roberto a bit of break – or else he might end up with a real one…in a kneecap, or maybe a couple crushed fingers. Definitely not anything that would help with his handyman job. My morbid mind shifted, and I suddenly wondered if there were any armless plumbers out there but decided that I hoped not. The repercussions would have been…well, fucking shitty.

“If I didn’t know better, Lanie, I would assume you are trying to be a peacekeeper here. Did something happen that you’re not telling me?” My father inquired. I grimaced, though I dare not make it loud enough for him to hear. Anytime he called me Lanie was a bad sign – it meant that he was less than pleased with me. That, or I had done something downright humiliating that he couldn’t allow me to get away with.

“No, no, of course not, Daddy. Roberto was nothing but businesslike about everything. I just don’t really enjoy playing babysitter to the maintenance workers while in tenant apartments. Isn’t there anything else I can do that will help you – I mean, I want to be an asset, Daddy.” I uttered, in a hopeful tone. We had this conversation often, and I knew it, but that didn’t change my persistence. Hopefully, he would see my value as a member of the family – and not just a daughter who could bring a handsome dowry.

“Well, you know that if you’re being dishonest – it will come to light, and I would hate for my precious daughter to be the cause of my disappointment.”

“I would never disappoint you, Papa.” I muttered, my voice steady as I spoke, “You know that.” Undoubtedly, he knew that I had always done my best for him but when the roles were reversed, I didn’t know if Papa would end up choosing in my favor. Granted, unlike those who met horrible ends because of his influence, I had never been caught in those crosshairs. This made me lucky, I supposed, but more than that it was one of the emphasized lessons of my childhood. Don’t ever disappoint the don and you’re bound to continue breathing and enjoying life in a finer light. Given that I was the daughter of the DeCozzori Dynasty, I had been raised to possess incredible strength of will, a ruthless sense of business, and an intelligent quotient that went through the roof. Why? Because, like everything my father produced, he expected perfection and nothing less. This meant, that just like his customized Italian leather seating, I had been privileged with a life most kids could only dream of.

“I am certain of it, Princesa,” Papa remarked. I sighed calmly as I heard the phone call click to an end and slid the phone back into my car console. These days, I felt more like I was walking on eggshells than I ever had before. I had graduated, as he asked me to. I wanted to go on to college, but now that seemed like a notion, he would never fully support. And I understood in a business aspect why that was. He didn’t need me to go to college. He had more than enough wealth to keep me in lavish comfort until well past the end of his own life! I eased the car off the side of the road and slowly began accelerating as I rolled past Oro de Italia, my thoughts shifting to the future and all the many uncertainties I was positive it held. Would I be a disappointment to my father? Not if I had anything to do with it – I adored him, even for being just as intimidated as his many henchmen. But, to me, he would always be Papa and I would forever be his Princesa and the thought of breaking his heart was just something I couldn’t ever bring myself to do. Not willingly anyway – even if some people felt he was as vile as the devil himself.

And, I couldn't deny that sometimes, he very well could be.