DOWNSTAIRS, THE CROWD’S thinning out. First, I lock up the liquor cabinet, then find Aunt Gloria and kindly take her glass of wine from her. She’s actually pretty awesome when she’s sober; sharp as a tack, and more guts than half the men I know. Unfortunately, she’s usually sloshed, and that means her natural charm rarely makes an appearance.
Once I have her in her coat and Uncle Emilio ready to go, I see the rest of the guests out. They all know that once Emilio leaves it’s time for them to leave as well. I don’t see Leo go, and actually, I’m pretty grateful for it. I don’t know how I’m supposed to talk to the man who was bargaining for my hand with my father not a half hour ago. Being a family man I guess it’s never occurred to Leo that his intended should be with him because she wants to, not because her father sold her down the river.
The front parlor is a mess; so are the dining room and the kitchen. I steel myself for the task of cleaning everything up. Somehow all these people get the pleasure of coming over, creating a mess, and then leaving. There are splatters of meatballs under the dinner table, stray noodles stuck to the floor, and even a few plastic forks strewn about, half broken.
"Pigs," I mutter.
"Tell me about it," a deep voice says from behind me. I scream loudly and jump up so fast I nearly pass out from the head rush. When I regain my senses, I realize it’s Leo. I feel my face heat immediately. I don't want to marry the guy or anything, but I don't want to make a bad impression either; I was raised to mind my manners. He smiles kindly at me despite the spastic look I just know I’m giving him.
"I didn't mean to startle you," he says, putting his hands in the air.
"Not the first time you've done that, is it?" I ask, motioning to his raised hands. I regret it immediately. Despite my comment, Leo smiles even brighter.
"You're a lot mouthier than Carlo lets on," he says. I stand frozen, not sure what he expects from me. Am I supposed to smile and flirt back, or am I supposed to play the obedient little principessa? That's why Leo’s interested in me, isn't it? Because I’m obedient? That I’m Carlo Mancuso's daughter? That I’m his ticket up the ranks? He doesn't even know me. Clearly, I’m a business deal, and above all, that pisses me off. I’m used to being seen for who my father is and not who I am, but this still bothers me. I could get stuck with this guy’s ring on my finger, my body in his bed, and my belly full of his kids. I cringe at the thought of my entire life being planned out for me. No surprise, no option, no choice.
Leo bends down and picks up the trash that’s at his feet. He walks into the kitchen and pokes through drawers until he finds where I keep the trash bags. He’s got two out and hands one to me before he opens the other for himself. I mean to tell him that he doesn't have to help. I want to tell him to stop helping, but I can't get my lips to move. Here he is, one of my father's favorite soldatos, wearing an Armani suit, picking up trash in my dining room. As he bends over, I notice the gold Desert Eagle gun at his hip and stifle the sigh that threatens to break through. He’s on the job. He’ll always be on the job, and when I get stuck married to him, I can't expect anything less.
"You don't—" I start, but stop the moment I see my father come into the room. Leo looks up at my father from his crouched position and stands immediately.
"What's going on in here?" Carlo asks, looking confused. I open my mouth to speak, but I don't know what to say. None of Carlo's men have ever helped me clean before.
"I wanted to help Alexandra clean up, Sir. Then I was going to ask her if she would like to go for dessert with me, since you said I could ask her out and all," Leo explains. My mouth still isn't working, but a strange feeling appears in my stomach. It’s like a hundred butterflies have settled in my belly and are trying to take flight. Nobody has ever asked my father for permission to take me out before.
My first boyfriend and I snuck around as much as we could, which didn't amount to anything. After we'd dated a few months and I'd given him my virginity, he had the nerve to ask if my father was looking for any new runners. That was the first time I'd ever seen Michael fly into a rage—it was terrifying. I made it a point after that to never tell Michael when someone broke my heart. As much as I like to see the softer side of him, my brother has a violent streak just like our father. He believes in an eye for an eye. To this day I don't know what Michael did to the guy, but he put him in the hospital—something about his heart.
"Si vuole veramente colpo su di lei, non è vero?" my father says, asking Leo if he really wants to impress me. For whatever reason, anytime there’s something my father doesn't want me to hear he’ll say it in Italian, as though I'm not fluent. Leo responds in Italian, telling my father that he does want to impress me. I blush again, not sure I can take much more of this—them talking about me right in front of me.