When owing the mafia, it often went like this:
Option one: pay back the money—good, very good. Everyone, especially you, went home happy.
You paid them, and you got to live your life. There are no extra holes in your body. No one is showing up at random to remind you of your debt and all the unpleasant things that would happen if you failed to pay it.
Option two: do not pay back the money—bad, very bad.
Broken bones, punched-out teeth Dislocated shoulders, jaws sealed shut. Pesky new bullet holes in the body bled a lot and often required stays in the hospital. All manner of unpleasant things, really. And if you still could not pay, then there were ways to work off the debt. And that was where things got really bad. Some people sold themselves to the highest bidder, while others sold their organs. It was nasty business, and most tried to avoid option two and stick with option one. Preferring that their bodies remain as unharmed as possible.
But there was also option three. An option that most people, no matter how awful they were, did not wish on even their worst enemy.
Fail to pay back the money and die—very bad, at least for the people left behind. In such cases, the debt falls on the loved ones left behind. People who often had no idea such a debt existed all of a sudden found themselves being watched by the mafia 24/7.
Unfortunately for Gianna, thanks to her father, she was in situation number three. But at least, unlike most of those in a situation like hers, she had not been surprised. Her father's gambling addiction had gotten her into quite a bit of trouble.
She might not have liked it, but she had been used to it. For the first six months, she tried, doing everything in her power to honor the debt. She had never been late with her payments and had even had a plan set up to help her pay off the debt as quickly as possible. Then life, ever unpredictable, made things difficult. The little tailor shop she had been running had tanked. The rent had gone up astronomically, leaving her making close to no profit. In a panic, she had upped her prices, trying to hang on to the space. But that had just cost her more customers, and in the end, that had led to her business failing. She had been left with just enough money to survive but not enough to continue paying off her father's debt.
Facing financial ruin, Gianna tried to borrow money, but the bank rejected her.
"We are sorry, ma'am, but you do not qualify." The well-dressed man behind the glass screen looked anything but sorry.
Rather than sit back and watch the situation spiral, she called her debt collector. Begging the other woman for reprieve, for a bit of time allowance so that she could get herself together When that failed, she resorted to a threat against herself. Something that would affect the Bianchis but would not earn her a premature death.
"If I hold a gun to my head at one of your establishments, it will not be good for business." There had been a pause, and Gianna had worried she had overstepped, but then she had gotten a reply.
"I will get back to you," The older woman had said (she had never even given Gianna her name).
At the time, Gianna had been too relieved to wonder what getting back to her meant. But apparently it meant a whole lot more than she had thought.
A giant of a man had come to her apartment.
"It would be lovely if you followed me outside on this fine day." The words and the tone were both soft, but Gianna knew an order when she heard one.
"Alright, I will come with you." Not even bothering to grab a coat, Gianna had followed him out. It might not have been visible, but Gianna was certain he had a gun, and she would rather it not come out at all. Next thing she knew, she was in a car with Nico Bianchi, the head of the Bianchi family. Don's did not do house calls unless a person had done something worthy of a don coming down on them with all fire and fury. Gianna had been so terrified that she felt like she was about to pass out. What had she been thinking by threatening his money like that? But Gianna had bluffed her way through the introductions, praying that she would make it through unharmed. And not only that, but the don was there to make her an offer. Something that ordinary folk could not even imagine in their wildest dreams.
'Have my baby... Surely Gianna had misheard.
Which was why she was currently staring at Don Bianchi, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.
'No way, pal! Are you crazy? Have you lost your mind? Are you high? Whatever you are on, can I have some? I could use a high like yours. She wanted to yell, but since she liked her body without bullet holes, she decided to be more diplomatic.
"I am not a very good choice for that; I would be a terrible mother," She said, her mind working quickly as she tried to think of a way out. Clearly, Don Bianchi's relationship with sanity was fleeting. She just had to talk him down and be on her way.
"All parents are terrible. Most are just good enough at hiding it that their children never notice." His reply was perfectly reasonable—the answer of someone who had thought of such a thing beforehand. Someone who was clearly in their right mind and not intoxicated in any way, shape, or form Oh, there went her theory that he was insane, and with it, her chances of talking her way out of the situation.
Now would be a good time to tell him that she was practically infertile. That the doctors had told her that her chances of conceiving were one in a million. They had never given an exact reason why that was, just shrugging at her, stumped as she was.
But if she told him that, then she would remain a million dollars in debt, with the amount increasing every day that she could not pay. The interest rates in the black market lending arena were ridiculous. Thinking on her feet, Gianna came up with something that would make sure she was not killed when she did not fall pregnant.
"What if I sleep with you and still don't fall pregnant?"
"That can happen, you know. Set a time frame; if I am not pregnant within that time, my debt still gets cancelled, and I walk." She held his gaze, willing her terrified heart not to give her away. Her leg started to bounce, a dead giveaway of her nervousness, and she crossed her ankles, holding it in place.
'Steady, Gianna, breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, steady, breathe... She chanted internally. Her face gave none of her inner turmoil away. She might not have been a gambler herself, but she had learned a thing or two from her old man about having the perfect poker face.
A few minutes of unnerving silence passed, and the Don finally answered, his unsettling green eyes still on her.
"Very well then, we have a deal. If, after a year, you are not pregnant, I will let you go, debt-free. One more thing: our arrangement stays between us. Not a word to anyone, even your closest friends." That would be easy enough. Gianna had no friends; the few she'd had were long dead, swallowed up by the city and its lust for blood.
A year was a long time; hopefully he would grow bored of her before then. Or maybe a miracle would happen and she would fall pregnant. Gianna mentally laughed at the sheer improbability of it. She had been trying for years; she'd had relationships fall apart because of the lack of children. At the end of the day, Nico Bianchi, great as he was, was still just a man. Sleeping with him would make no difference. "Deal," She agreed, holding out a hand. He took it, but rather than shake it, he brought it to his mouth, his lips soft against the back of her hand. Not expecting the gesture, Gianna felt her face heat, suddenly struck by how handsome he was. Those cheekbones of his, coupled with his clear green eyes,
How could someone be so charming yet so terrifying?
No more was said after that, and the car stopped doing loops around the block. Coming to a stop in front of her building so that she could get out.
Gianna kept her composure until she reached her apartment. The moment she was inside, she collapsed onto the couch, shaking, the gravity of the situation hitting her full-on.
What on earth had she just agreed to do?