Forbidden To The Mobster

What is a child's first memory of life?

Many would say it's something related to play, or maybe one of the parents reading a bedtime story. But in my case, my first memory is the last night I saw my parents alive. I was only four years old at the time, and everything seemed so confusing in my mind.

I couldn't remember why we were in the car that night, but I vividly recall the worried faces of my parents. My mother, Beatrice Piromalli, was sitting next to me in the back seat, holding me tightly. She would glance back from time to time, and all she would say was that they were coming. My father, Andrea Piromalli, was at the wheel, driving the car with a tense expression, promising he would lose them.

"What's happening, Mom?" I asked, feeling my heart race.

She looked at me with sadness in her eyes and replied, "Don't worry, sweetheart, we'll be fine."

My father, Andrea, was at the wheel, driving the car with a tense expression, promising he would lose them.

"Daddy, why are we going so fast?" I whispered with fear.

He glanced in the rearview mirror and forced a smile. "We're just playing a racing game, Catarina. We're going to win."

I don't remember who we were racing against, but I do remember a black car pulling up next to ours. I remember the bright lights and the roar of engines as the black car tried to push us off the road. The collision was sudden and violent, and then everything went dark.

After some time, I opened my eyes and saw that the car had flipped, and my parents were sadly no longer with us. Two pairs of black shoes were beside the wrecked car, and I didn't know what to do. "What should we do with her?"

Another man, who wasn't in my field of view, responded, "We can't leave her here. She's just a child."

The other owner of the shoes calmly said, "We'll take care of her. She has no one else."

Then he knelt. His eyes met mine, and he reached out his large hand towards me, and I, scared and confused, held onto the hand of the man who appeared to be around my father's age. He helped me out of the wrecked vehicle and enveloped me in his protective arms. That's how I was saved that night.

"Don't worry, little one," he said kindly. "I'll take care of you."

That's how I was saved that night by the man I would later discover to be Don Salvatore Mancuso, the boss of the 'Ndrangheta.

My life changed forever that night when I was torn from my past and thrust into a dark and complex world that Don Salvatore ruled. He became my guardian, my protector, and later, my mentor. The 'Ndrangheta was a different kind of family, one that embraced me when my own was taken from me.

It's ironic to think that my earliest childhood memory is also my worst nightmare. I was saved by Don Salvatore Mancuso on that dark night, and since then, I have walked in his shadow, sheltered and guided by a world that many don't understand. And despite it all, I wouldn't trade my story for anything in this world... even though it's the cause of my insomnia.

***

The feeling of waking up startled was a constant reminder in my life. Fourteen years had passed since that fateful night when my parents died, but the past continued to haunt my dreams. On this day, however, I couldn't afford to get lost in memories.

I pushed aside the silk blankets and got out of bed, feeling the cold floor beneath my bare feet. I made my way to the window, eager to welcome the morning sun that bathed Vibo Valentia, Calabria, in my room. It was an important day; after all, I was turning 18. From now on, I would be seen as an adult capable of making my own decisions.

As the warmth of the sun touched my face, I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring the refreshing sensation. The scent of olive trees and the sea filled the air, and I felt grateful to be home, even if this home was an imposing and shadowy mansion belonging to the Mancuso family.

A gentle knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. It was Federica, a loyal woman who had become a sort of companion since I was rescued on that tragic night.

"Buongiorno, Catarina. Happy birthday!" Federica said.

"Thank you, Federica. The day has finally come," I replied with excitement.

"Yes, and your family is waiting for you for breakfast. Everyone is eager to celebrate with you," Federica informed me.

I thanked Federica with a nod, and she left the room. As I prepared for the day, memories flowed like a film in my mind. I vividly remembered what happened after my rescue on that fateful night when Don Salvatore Mancuso saved me.

The expected course of action in that situation would have been for Don Salvatore to hand me over to some shelter, but things took an unexpected turn. Don Salvatore's wife, Lucrezia Mancuso, was the driving force behind this twist. She had always dreamed of having a daughter, but after giving birth to four boys, she had to let go of that dream. After all, her last pregnancy, which resulted in the youngest, Massimo, caused complications and led to a hysterectomy.

Massimo, who was the same age as me, became my childhood partner and companion. Lucrezia clung to the idea that I was the daughter she had always wanted, nicknaming me "Bambolina," which in Italian meant "little doll." To her, I was her little doll, the fulfillment of a postponed dream.

This relationship brought me comfort and security for many years. Lucrezia treated me as if I were her own daughter, and I saw her as a loving mother. She taught me about Italian culture, how to cook traditional Calabrian dishes, and even how to catch a husband as she had done with Don Salvatore.

However, when I turned fifteen, life played cruel tricks on us. Lucrezia fell seriously ill, and doctors couldn't determine the cause. I never left her side, the woman I had embraced as my mother. I spent sleepless nights caring for her and trying to understand what was happening.

One day, when Lucrezia's frailty seemed to reach its peak, she looked at me with tired eyes and expressed a regret that left me puzzled. "Bambolina, I deeply regret your fate."

I looked at her with confusion, feeling a lump in my throat. "What do you mean, Mama?"

Lucrezia tried to smile, but weakness overcame her. Her voice was only a whisper. "You deserved more, my dear. More than this life."

I held her hand gently, trying to grasp the meaning of her enigmatic words. Before I could ask her what she meant, Lucrezia closed her eyes, and her breathing became slow and irregular. In a few minutes, she was gone, taking the explanation for her regret with her.

After Lucrezia's death, my life took a new turn. Don Salvatore took responsibility for me, and I became an integral part of the Mancuso family. He, along with his four sons, taught me everything I needed to know about the mafia. The 'Ndrangheta became my reality, and I accepted my fate as part of this criminal organization.

Today, as I prepared for my 18th birthday, I reflected on my journey. Lucrezia was still a fond memory in my heart, a mother who loved me, and whom I loved deeply. Under her guidance, I became an essential piece of the family, a skilled strategist, and one of Don Salvatore's most trusted figures.

Despite it all, there was a part of me that felt like a stranger in this house, despite all the years I had spent here. Being accepted by the Mancusos was not an easy task, even as an "adopted daughter" of the 'Ndrangheta boss, Don Salvatore Mancuso.

Today, however, was a day to celebrate my journey and accomplishments. Wearing an elegant black dress, I reflected on how the 'Ndrangheta had become a part of who I was, but I was also determined to find my own path within the family. I wouldn't just be Don Salvatore's protégé; I would be a leader in my own right. As I put on the pearl necklace that Lucrezia gave me on my fifteenth birthday, it was a special gift, one of the many loving gestures she had made toward me during the years we shared together.

As I left the room and descended the stairs, I could feel the tension in the air. The dining room was filled with family members, all impeccably dressed, as was expected on occasions like this. Don Salvatore Mancuso sat at the head of the table, his expression stern, but his eyes revealed a trace of pride. Alongside him were his four legitimate sons.

Massimo, the youngest, was to the left of his father, seated three chairs down from Don Salvatore. He had just turned eighteen, and his celebration had been memorable, an event that still echoed in all of our memories. Massimo was charismatic and beloved by many, much like his father.

In the chair in front of Massimo was Luca, Salvatore's third son with Lucrezia. At twenty, Luca was known for his outgoing personality and his inclination for the more extravagant side of life.

Seated to the right of Massimo was Matteo, the second son of the family's leader. At twenty-one, Matteo was responsible for all family operations in Canada, and his reputation as a brilliant strategist was well established.

And, of course, seated to Don Salvatore's right was Dante Mancuso, the eldest and the next in line to lead the family. At twenty-five, Dante was a man of imposing presence, his honey-colored eyes reminiscent of Lucrezia, but his demeanor and appearance were unmistakably Salvatore's. He was the mafia boss's greatest pride, and everyone expected him to lead the family with wisdom and firmness in the future.

However, Dante was not just the Mancuso family's eldest; he was my fiercest rival. From childhood, he always found ways to make it clear that I was not a true part of the family. He was the one who had nicknamed me "Bambi" when we were children, referring to the movie "Bambi." But the nickname was not an endearing diminutive, as Lucrezia used to call me "Bambolina." For Dante, it was a cruel way of reminding me that, like Bambi, I had lost my parents and that he considered it a weakness.

Gradually, all the brothers began to call me by that name, reinforcing the exclusion and the difference between us. I was the outsider in the family, the girl who didn't belong to the inner circle. Dante, in particular, always found ways to remind me of that, making my relationship with him tense and hostile over the years.

As I approached the table and took my seat, the chair to Don Salvatore's left, Dante's gaze fixated on me for a moment, and I could see a subtle, mocking smile on the corners of his lips. He knew the impact his words had on me and seemed to take pleasure in reminding me that I was a stranger in the Mancuso household. Don Salvatore broke the silence, addressing me seriously.

"Bambolina, my dear, happy birthday!" Don Salvatore said, holding my face.

"Thank you, Don Salvatore," I replied, holding his hand and kissing his ring. After all, he was the family's leader.

He stood up, approached, and gave me a warm hug. It was a gesture that meant much more than words could express. It was a recognition of the bond we shared, of the journey we had traveled together.

Massimo, always charismatic and the youngest, was the first to break the silence. With a warm smile, he said, "Congratulations, Bambi. I hope this is the beginning of a new and exciting journey for you."

I smiled back at him, genuinely thankful. Massimo was kind and friendly, a stark contrast to his older brother, Dante.

Next, Matteo offered his congratulations. He was a man of few words, but his serious gaze conveyed respect.

Luca, with his outgoing personality, raised his wine glass for a toast, exclaiming, "To Bambi's eighteen years! May you continue to surprise us with your strength and determination."

Each congratulation warmed my heart, but we all knew that the most tense moment was yet to come. Dante, the eldest and the next leader of the Mancuso family, remained silent, his face dark, and his eyes fixed on me.

Don Salvatore looked at his eldest son, an expression of expectation on his face, but Dante's silence drew his father's attention, who looked at him with a serious expression. Don Salvatore did not tolerate disrespect or insubordination, even from his own son.

"Come on, Dante, greet Catarina," Don Salvatore ordered firmly.

However, when Dante finally broke the silence, his words were not of congratulations but of disdain. "Sei una bastarda," he muttered, staring at me with contempt.

The cutting insult echoed in the room, and everyone fell silent, shocked by Dante's lack of respect at such an important moment. "Sei una bastarda" was an insult that Don Salvatore would never allow in his house. He slammed his hand on the table with force, his furious gaze fixed on his son.

"Apologize, Dante," Don Salvatore ordered with a stern voice.

Dante, in turn, maintained his defiant look and refused to apologize. "I won't apologize to her," he responded stubbornly.

The tension in the room was palpable, and I could feel everyone's eyes on me. But I didn't waver. After all, I knew that this insult was merely a reflection of Dante's resentment for not having closed the deal with the Solncevskaya Bratva, which I had contributed to.

With calm, I replied, "It's alright, Don Salvatore. I expected no less from someone like Dante. I believe yesterday's stutter hasn't quite passed... Zdra... Zdra...vstv... Zdra...uite!"

Dante angrily rose from the table and left the room without saying another word. Don Salvatore sighed, looking at me with a mix of concern and frustration.

"At some point, Bambolina, this feud between you and Dante needs to end," he said, running a hand through his gray hair.

I nodded, not wanting to spoil the day with family arguments. It was a special day, after all. "I wholeheartedly agree, Don Salvatore. The timing is not right to discuss this. Today should be a day of celebration."

Don Salvatore smiled at me and said, "Yes, let's enjoy your birthday."

I nodded in agreement. "Yes, Don Salvatore. I believe it's also time for us to talk about Tuscany. I can be a valuable ally in expanding our business in that region."

My request to lead 'Ndrangheta activities in Tuscany was bold, but I was determined to prove that I was worthy of this challenge. Yes, normally this territory would be led by the heir, but there were other territories equally important for Dante to lead. And I was ready to demonstrate that.

"Afterward, we'll discuss the position you asked for as a birthday gift," Don Salvatore said as he stood up. "Now I need to check if the preparations for your masquerade ball are well underway."

I couldn't help but feel the lingering tension in the room. But for now, I was ready to write my own future in the family's history.

After breakfast, my eighteenth birthday schedule continued, and the next activity was the photo session in Vibo Valentia, which I had carefully planned in advance. Federica, my companion, was always by my side, accompanying me at all times.

Dressed in an elegant white dress, I was posing for photos on the beach, while the morning sun illuminated the scene with a golden glow. The sea breeze whispered gently, and the photographer worked diligently to capture my beauty and the transition from girl to woman that this day symbolized.

As I posed, an unexpected wave came from the sea and hit me, making my white dress wet and cling to my body. Fortunately, the fabric didn't become completely transparent, but the sensation of being wet and vulnerable added an unexpected touch to the photo session.

The photographer, taking advantage of the situation, said it was great as the photos would reflect the idea that I was leaving behind my girlhood and becoming a beautiful woman, as if the sea had embraced me to celebrate this transition.

While I tried to maintain my composure and continue with the poses, I noticed something unusual from the top of the rocky walls that surrounded the beach. It was the figure of Dante watching me from a safe distance.

A shiver ran down my spine as I saw him up there, his gaze fixed on me. It was an expression I had never seen on his face before, a mixture of desire and something else that I couldn't identify precisely. He seemed different, darker, and more intense than the Dante I knew. I had no idea what Dante was doing there, watching me so intensely. It wasn't common for him to get involved in this kind of thing, especially when it came to me.

Curious and disturbed at the same time, I turned to Federica and pointed in Dante's direction. "Federica, what is Dante doing here?"

Federica turned to where I was pointing, but when her eyes met the spot where Dante should have been, there was no one there. She frowned, concerned, and then looked at me with a puzzled expression.

"Catarina, I don't see anyone up there. Maybe the sun is affecting your vision. Perhaps you're hallucinating."

My eyes widened in surprise. Was I hallucinating? I looked back at the rocks, but Dante had completely disappeared. It was as if he had never been there.

I knew what I had seen. Dante was there, I was sure of it. However, I also knew that this argument would lead nowhere, and Federica was right to end the photo session, concerned for me.

I nodded in agreement and walked away from the water, back to the safety of the beach. As the photographer put away his camera, I couldn't get the image of Dante out of my mind. Whatever he was doing there, that expression on his face left me shaken. And I had no idea what it meant for the future of our complicated relationship.

***

After the strange episode on the beach, I returned to the mansion and went straight to my room, where I changed my wet dress for a blouse, Capri pants, and high heels. After all, I still had lunch scheduled with the daughters of the other 'Ndrangheta families. It was a formality that catered to the wishes of the late Lucrezia, Don Salvatore's wife.

While tying my hair into a ponytail, I passed by the training room where my brothers Massimo, Luca, and Matteo were practicing with each other. Self-defense skills were something we had all been trained in since childhood, including me, and I prided myself on being very proficient in Krav Maga, a personal defense system that taught that the best defense was a quick and decisive offense.

I longed to be in there with them, feeling the adrenaline of the fights, but I had my duties. Sometimes, being the only woman in the family had its disadvantages. I was about to leave when Massimo called out to me, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"Where are you going, Catarina?" he asked.

I casually replied as I tied my hair. "I'm going to lunch with the other girls."

Massimo seemed a little disappointed. "Too bad. I was just finishing training with Matteo."

I smiled with disdain, teasing him. "Matteo will never be a match for me."

At that moment, Matteo appeared in the room, as if the mention of his name had summoned him. He raised an eyebrow and retorted, "I highly doubt that, Catarina."

It wasn't in my nature to back down from a challenge. I looked at the three brothers confidently and said, challengingly, that I could beat them in Krav Maga, even in high heels.

The three brothers exchanged glances and began to laugh, as if they found it impossible that I could defeat all of them together. Massimo, the most extroverted of the three, broke the silence.

"Are you serious, Catarina? Do you mean little Bambi thinks she can defeat the three of us?"

I pointed a finger, correcting Massimo, "First, don't call me Bambi. Second, yes, I can beat all of you."

Matteo stepped forward, confident. "Let's go, then. Prove it."

Without wasting any time, we positioned ourselves in the training room, and the fight began. High heels and all. I was determined to show that I shouldn't be underestimated, and with quick and precise movements, I began to take on my brothers.

The fight was intense, and I realized I was dealing with formidable opponents. Massimo was surprisingly fast and strong, Luca was clever and agile, and Matteo had a solid technical knowledge of Krav Maga. However, I didn't give up.

With every move, I pushed myself to the limit, remembering the rigorous training Don Salvatore had given me over the years. As sweat trickled down my face, I realized I was starting to gain the advantage. One by one, my brothers were defeated. In the end, we were all panting and tired. I stood triumphantly while my brothers were on the ground, acknowledging my victory.

Massimo laughed as he got up. "You won, Catarina. I wouldn't have expected anything less from you."

Luca joined him, shaking his head in admiration. "It was impressive. You're really good."

Matteo, still recovering from the fight, nodded. "You've shown that you're a true Mancuso, Catarina."

As I assumed my pose, with renewed confidence, I knew that that moment had been more than just a game. It had been an assertion of my place in the family, a demonstration that I was as capable as my brothers, even if they were bigger and stronger.

However, the joy and pride I felt were short-lived, dissipating like a puff of smoke when a deep and threatening voice echoed in the room. "You're not a Mancuso, Bambi."

I turned abruptly and found Dante standing in the doorway, watching the scene with a cynical smile on his face.

He entered the space and uttered words that cut like sharp knives. "You're just a Piromalli... a nobody, a bastard. And you always will be."

My expression turned into a mask of anger, and I stared at him with determination. "Retract what you said, Dante."

He just smiled disdainfully. "I won't take anything back, Bambi. You are that... a bastard. A Bambi."

Dante's taunting ignited a fire within me, a fire that compelled me to claim my place and honor. I took a fighting stance and challenged him, my eyes flashing with determination. "Retract what you said, Dante."

He laughed, his laugh dripping with superiority. "Do you really think you're a match for me in Krav Maga, Bambi?"

A confident smile curved my lips as I responded. "I just defeated three Mancusos at once. I'm sure you won't even tickle."

Dante shrugged, as if he were bored with the situation. "I'm not a man who rolls around on the floor to prove anything."

I stared at him, intrigued and cautious. "What do you want, then?"

Dante looked into my eyes and proposed a deal. "If I win, I'll take the Russian meeting. If you win, I'll leave you alone."

The proposal was unexpected, and I hesitated for a moment before asking, "Is that all? It's that simple?"

He nodded. "It's that simple."

I agreed, accepting the challenge. After all, I wasn't afraid to face my adopted brother, even if it was a physical battle. He began to take off his suit, revealing his well-defined and muscular abs, and for some reason, that sight affected me in an unexpected way.

I knew I was about to embark on a confrontation that wouldn't be just physical but also a battle for honor and respect within the Mancuso family. And I was determined to win, no matter the cost.