Unforgivable Ties

Chapter 5

Stephanie

E ver since Vincenzo came into my life, I found it difficult to concentrate on my schoolwork. I was always looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to show up out of the blue. One moment, he’d be a figment of my imagination, a constant thought plaguing my mind; the next, he’d be as tangible as the textbooks in my bag, standing in front of me with those arms that rivaled tree trunks.

How did I manage to get involved with the mafia? Not only that, but a massive, tattooed, hot mafia member. I mentally scolded myself. No, he wasn’t that hot; it was just his tattoos, and the way he tied his long hair up in a bun and—shit.

I slapped my hand against my forehead and slowly ran it down the length of my face. All of this brooding would not help me pass my Infectious Disease class.

“Are you alright?” Preston asked as he neatly packed his books and notes into his backpack.

I had gotten paired up with my ex as a lab partner in this class—another infectious disease.

“I’m fine,” I replied, averting my gaze from Preston’s concern-filled eyes. The last thing I needed was to deal with ex-boyfriend drama on top of my...other situation.

Preston and I had dated for three years, and he was my first serious relationship. But while I saw forever for us, he saw me as temporary. Everyone in his family was rich and successful, and there was no way they would let him marry someone like me. His family was filled with CEOs and politicians, while mine were hardworking, blue-collar folks. There was nothing wrong with my upbringing, but I didn’t fit in Preston’s world. His parents made him dump me by threatening his inheritance and everything they currently pay for.

I had just gotten over him. It was time to move on and get a fresh start. I just didn’t know that fresh start would involve the mafia.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine,” I answered a little too quickly.

“Well, at least let me walk you to the subway station.”

I sighed, not in the mood to argue. “Fine,” I finally muttered, picking up my bag and heaving it over my shoulder.

As we strolled through the bustling campus and towards the subway station, Preston made light conversation. The sound of students rushing to classes filled the air, intermingling with the distant rumble of trains arriving and departing. My mind was elsewhere, but I forced myself to engage in conversation, not wanting to appear impolite.

Before we could reach the subway station, we had to cut through a staff parking lot. As we got closer, I gasped at the sight before me.

Vincenzo had his car parked in the loading zone and was leaning against the passenger door. He wore a black suit that gave him an air of authority and danger, and his long black hair was half up and down. He had a presence that was undeniable—like a magnificent predator waiting for its prey.

“Oh my god,” I said under my breath.

“Do you know him?” Preston asked as Vincenzo nodded in my direction.

“Uh…yeah,” I said, speeding up our pace so I could avoid having this conversation with him.

“How? He looks dangerous.”

Ha. Preston didn’t know the half of it.

“He just likes tattoos,” I responded, making up a lame excuse for the mafia member. As we approached him, he pushed himself up from his sleek black car and straightened his tie.

There was an awkward pause as the three of us stood there, our worlds colliding in a moment that felt surreal.

“Uh…nice car, man,” Preston said, being the first one to break the silence. No matter his reservations about Vincenzo, his parents always taught him to make a good first impression, because you’d never know if you’d need a favor down the line.

“Thanks,” he responded in a deep, gravelly voice that made me shiver. He had a slight Italian accent that seemed to linger on the vowels. His eyes never left mine for a second, even as he acknowledged Preston’s compliment.

“Is this,” Preston shifted uncomfortably, “Your new boyfriend, Stephanie?”

I opened my mouth to deny it, that no, he was absolutely not, but Vincenzo beat me to it.

“Yeah,” he responded with a nonchalant shrug. “We’re pretty serious.”

If looks could kill, the glare I shot Vincenzo’s way would’ve left him six feet under. Preston’s eyes widened like saucers, looking between the dangerous man and me with absolute disbelief.

“Stephanie—” he began to say, but a stern look from Vincenzo quickly shut him up.

“We have to go,” I blurted out, wanting to escape this situation as soon as possible. “See you later, Preston!”

Vincenzo opened the passenger door for me and I hesitantly slid into the leather seats of his car, my heart pounding in my chest. As I put on the seatbelt, I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. He closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side, and as he ducked into the car, I had to restrain myself from screaming at him. Preston was still watching us through the window.

When Vincenzo had driven us a respectable distance from the school, I freaked out.

“What the fuck, Vincenzo?!” I exploded. “Why would you tell him you’re my boyfriend?”

“Sorry,” he said, but he didn’t sound very sorry at all. “But I can’t have you busy fawning over a guy when there’s work to do.”

“I don’t like him,” I said, gently tapping my head against the dashboard. “I would dissolve him into a pit of acid if I could.”

“It could be arranged,” Vincenzo said, but didn’t prod about our relationship further.

“I wasn’t being—ugh!” I slammed my hand against my face and dragged it down the length of it.

The situation had me furious, and I felt like venting. “He dumped me because I was too poor, ok? His mommy and daddy said I was a nobody, and that was more important than our three-year relationship.”

Vincenzo shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. He had this infuriating way of acting like he didn’t give a damn about anything. “You’re better off without him then,” he said.

I scoffed and turned away from him to look out the window. “Where are we going, anyways?”

“Your new job.”

As soon as I heard that, my ears perked up and my temper went down a bit. I was very interested to see what this $100,000 a year job was going to be like. Well, it didn’t feel right to call it a job, more like forced labor.

“Where is it?” I asked.

“In a place where they won’t care about your financial status,” he responded, his gaze remaining fixed on the road.

After twenty minutes, we arrived at a warehouse district that was different from the one I called home.

“So...does all mafia crime take place in warehouses, then?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Vincenzo let out what could almost be considered a laugh. “Not all of it, but warehouses make practical bases. They’re spacious, mostly unmonitored, and convenient for...certain activities.”

I held my hand up. I did not want to know what activities went on in those warehouses beyond the ones I was being paid to do.

Vincenzo parked the car and turned off the ignition. He stepped out and opened my door with a flourish. “Let’s go.”

I hesitantly unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out of the car, making note of the two men guarding the front of the building. I wondered what exactly they were guarding.

Walking alongside Vincenzo, I noticed the men nodded slightly in acknowledgement before sliding open the towering metal doors, revealing the inner workings of the warehouse. The front was open, but there was a hallway with many rooms, and I knew I didn’t want to see what was in the rest.

I followed him down the hallway, the echoing sound of our footsteps filling the space where our conversation should be. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting an uninviting, stark glow on the cold, grey concrete floors and walls. Despite the size of the building, it felt claustrophobic, as if the walls were closing in on us.

“Here,” Vincenzo said, stopping in front of a steel door.

He pushed the door open, and I followed behind him. An older man with glasses sat behind a steel desk, his grey hair combed neatly back. He looked up from the stack of papers he was examining and his gaze locked onto me. The intensity in his eyes made me feel as if he could see through my soul.

“Stephanie, I presume?” the man asked.

“Yes,” I responded, doing my best to appear confident. These people were in the mafia, and I couldn’t let them smell my fear.

“Dr. Cesare Bianchi. You’ll be working with me now.”

“Nice to meet you.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “You’re not here to make small talk, and neither am I. We’ve got work to do.”

I internally groaned. It looked like all mafia members were as unpleasant as Vincenzo.

“I’ll be on my way,” Vincenzo said, and I tried not to panic. The one scary mafia member I knew was leaving me alone in a warehouse full of mafia members I didn’t know.

“Don’t get shot again until I get her trained,” Cesare replied, not looking at Vincenzo as he walked out of the room.

The door clicked shut, leaving us alone in the fluorescent wash of the room. Cesare stared at me a moment longer, his gaze making my skin prickle. Then he sighed, ran a hand through his hair and hooked his glasses over his ear.

“Come,” he said, standing and gesturing for me to follow him into an attached room.

I followed obediently, my heart hammering so loudly I was sure he could hear it. The nerve to flee had passed, and I was resigned to the fact that this warehouse was now my home. Here, I would learn the ins and outs of mob medical practices. It felt like being hurled into a den of wolves.

The room was filled with various basic medical equipment, such as an examination table and supplies to take care of patients. If I didn’t know I was in a mafia warehouse, I would have mistaken it for a regular doctor’s office.

“We have a lot of incidents in our line of work,” he said casually, as if discussing the weather. “Many are things you’ve been trained to handle. Gunshots, stabbings, burns—assuming they’re not severe.”

“Um...I’ve only done those with a medical doctor present. Well, and Vincenzo’s wound, but that was an emergency.”

“This isn’t a hospital. You will not operate under laws and regulations in this building,” Cesare said, facing me. “I don’t care that you’re only in medical school. You’re capable of doing the work, and that’s what matters.”

“Oh, okay,” I said hesitantly, wringing my hands. I wondered how I’d been reduced to this—from a promising medical student with dreams of working in a top hospital to a criminal organization’s private medical staff.

Cesare showed me where everything was located in the room. Bandages, antiseptics, painkillers, an array of surgical tools—each had its designated space on the shelves. He rummaged in a cabinet, revealing a digital x-ray machine and a portable ultrasound device.

“It’s going to be a slow day, so I doubt you’ll get any patients. You can just sit at the desk and study in your free time.”

“Alright, thanks,” I said, and paused. “How do you know it’ll be a slow day?”

“I usually get a heads up. Also, the weekends tend to be busier; something about them goes hand in hand with crime,” he responded nonchalantly.

“Right...”

“I need to do work in the back. If you need me, press this intercom button,” he said, pointing towards a small black device on the wall. “If you can handle it by yourself, you don’t need to call.”

Everything inside me screamed that it was wrong. Even residents were still supervised, and yet here I was, a student assigned to the position of an unsupervised doctor in a crime-riddled underworld. The gravity of the situation began to sink in, wave after wave of anxiety washing over me.

What if I messed up? What would they do to me if I accidentally seriously injured an important mafia member? A shiver ran down my body—I didn’t want to know.

“Sorry, we have to keep the AC low in here,” Cesare said, misinterpreting why I had shivered. “Don’t forget to bring a jacket. Also, you can leave at eleven.”

“Ok,” I responded meekly, my mind spinning with a thousand thoughts. After he left, I took a deep breath to calm my racing pulse.

This would be fine. The room itself looked just like a normal medical office. If I didn’t think about the fact I was in a mafia warehouse, I could fool myself into thinking I had an internship at a hospital.

Time passed, and Cesare was right. It was slow. No one showed up, and I started drifting into my textbooks, the rhythm of the clock ticking in the background a soothing balm to my nerves. The hours slipped by like sand through fingers, unnoticeable, until my alarm for eleven pm went off.

That wasn’t so bad. And if it would pay my exorbitant tuition fees, I could deal with it. I grabbed my phone and quickly typed a message to Vincenzo, letting him know I had finished. A few moments passed before he responded.

Go home, then.

My temper rose at his curt dismissal. He dropped me off in a part of town I had never been to before and then expected me to find my way home in the middle of the night. I texted him back a nasty reply before shoving my books and school supplies back into my backpack.

If he didn’t get himself killed, I was going to do it myself.