Chapter 6 GINEVRA

My hair in a messy bun, an all black two piece sweat pant and shirt was all I adorned myself by.

Today was not an official day, today was the day I would feast on blood, today was the day I was going to let the monster that had relentlessly clawed at my soul have a taste of what it had been yearning for.

Today was the day I was going to leave my mark, and gain myself a lasting reputation and respect in both my clan and all of the crime families in Cosa Nostra.

In the world of crime, women were almost never taken seriously-young, vibrant women like myself especially. We were bred to become wives and mothers, we were used as tools to initiate peace treaties between rival families.

We were regarded as nothing but princesses with pretty faces, nice bodies, and a good pussy.

But I wanted nothing to do with that absurd arrangement. I wanted more. I had always desired to be more than a princess.

And when I was declared and sworn in as the head of my clan, a lot of Capo's expressed their distaste towards the act.

Had I cared? No.

But my father, that bloody fucker had to go and patronize them. He convinced them that all I was, was just a face-a representative. That bastard. Those fucking, old, ugly, wrinkled ass men bought into papá's excuses.

All I was was just a face.

They regarded me as one without power or authority. So, toady when I had called for an urgent gathering, it was no surprise that so many if not all of the men in this room wore a scowl on their faces.

Did I care? Absolutely not.

If anything, I was elated that they heeded my call.

"Three hours since we've been seated here like fools, waiting for you to grace a meeting you called for." Issaco Iandanza spoke as I entered the parliament room.

I hummed politely as I took my seat at the head of the table. "I had to wash up." I drawled, my Italian accent thick.

Then and there, everyone present in the room knew I was angry.

It wasn't news that I was fluent in five different languages-Italian, French, Spanish, Russian, and English.

People had always observed the change in my moods with whichever accent was more prominent in my tone of voice when speaking.

When I spoke with an Italian accent, I was angry. When I spoke with a Russian accent, I wasn't exactly happy, and I wasn't exactly angry-just in between. When I spoke with an English accent, I was simply in the mood to talk serious business, and when I spoke with either a French or a Spanish accent, I was just trying to be goofy.

And today, I spoke with a thick Italian accent. I was beyond angry, I was aggravated, irritated, nervous, and impatient.

Who was to be blamed for my foul mood? The young man seated at the right of me-Maxwell.

Fuck, I needed to teach him a few lessons.

"You were washing up whilst we waited for you?" A voice I couldn't make out spoke and I hummed.

"I need to look clean enough," my eyes darted around the room amusingly. "I'll be headed for Russia to make a delivery in a few short minutes."

My eyes landed on Maxwell and he shifted in his seat as if sensing my profound irritation towards him. I began speaking. "The past week was hell for me, because someone amongst us decided to play a dangerous game, a game that's about to cost him his life." I chuckled at the silence that stretched in the room.

Curious eyes were on mine, waiting impatiently for my speech to end. "I would like to know something, Maxwell," my eyes meet the petrified ones of the young man. "I would like to know how it felt whilst you continuously dived your blade into Ariana Viktor Advik when you knew whom her father was and what would happen to you if he discovered the truth?"

Eyes widened, and hushed murmurs erupted the moment I blurted out that information. My eyes never left Maxwell's-I stared into his soul, until he was swallowing continuously and loudly.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, and those words were all it took before I snapped. I pushed myself off my seat and collided with him, pushing him off his seat, onto the floor.

No second was spared before my fist was ramming into his face. My fist rammed into his face until my knuckles began ripping apart-until my muscles burned.

"Do you know what torture my body went through because of you?!" His blood smeared all over my face and hands but I couldn't care less. I loved every bit of his pain. I reveled in it.

The smell of blood was intoxicating.

Finally, I stopped when his face was all busted open, forcefully pulled him off the ground. I slammed him back into his seat, chuckling amusingly at the painful grunt that had escaped his throat.

If he knew what awaited him, he would've saved his grunts for the nearer future. Because one thing was for sure, the Pakhan of Bratva was going to make an example out of him.

Surprise gripped the others, they had never been let in on this side of me, they had only seen me as a face, a representative, a woman-a weak woman. But today, for the first time in months, I saw fear in their eyes, a fear that was induced by me.

I was finally regarded as the head of La famiglia.

"You have no idea what I speak of, si?" I breathed angrily as I scattered pictures of him kneeling beside the unmoving body of Ariana whilst holding a bloodied dagger. His eyes widened in terror, he vigorously shook his head as he hauntingly cried out and groaned in pain.

He hadn't done it. He hoped to say but was too conflicted to say a word.

I knew he didn't do it, but that was going to be our little secret.

I leaned down, my lips against Maxwell's ear when I whispered. "I asked around, and your friend confirmed your involvement."

"My friend?" Maxwell blinked at me slowly. I hummed. "Gustavo?"

Again, I hummed.

I had never heard a man scream as loud as Maxwell was screaming. He cursed, he begged, he cried, he promised that it wouldn't ever happen again, he denied his involvement-and all I did was sit there, watching him with an amused smile on my face.

I watched silently. Happily.

"That's enough, a croaky voice resounded but I paid it no heed. "That's enough. He caused a ruckus, you should fix it quietly as he's a sworn member of this family. He's a made man."

I scoffed. "So? He killed the Pakhan's daughter. Would any of you willingly meet with the Pakhan and tell him to his face to forget about punishing the man who took his daughter from him? It's only a miracle that a war hasn't begun, do you know why?"

Silence.

"I paid with my body!" I screamed. "I paid with my blood! And you dare tell me when it's enough?" Laughter bubbled out of me. "It'll never be enough until this useless excuse of a man has paid for his crimes!"

"Ginevra Rodriguez!" Isacca yelled, "you should learn to listen to us. When men speak, women listen! And you're nothing but a woman, a child. Know your place."

"I am a woman but only on the outside!" I retorted. "On the inside, I am greater than you, and in the Rodriguez crime family, I rule! I am your boss, and you should know your place."

I rose from my seat and stormed out of the parliament room, but stopped halfway to pass an instruction to my most trusted soldier-Cyrus.

"Get that fucking pig on the jet and cut off his tongue, I don't need him saying shit that could ruin my plans."

Those were my orders, orders that were obeyed without any form of hesitancy. Without any form of rebellion.

I walked into the jet sated, happy, because I knew that I had exerted my authority on those old fashioned men. And it'd be a mistake on their part if they hadn't realized the power I held.