Boston Blood

Thirty one

Boston, 1990.

"Come in, Frances."

Frankie felt like she was going to vomit. Although he sounded sweet and kind, she knew he was seething. She opened the door, reluctantly and stepped into his office.

Cigar smoke billowed towards her, making her cough. There was music playing from his massively over the top gramophone in the corner which was resting beside the fully stocked bar. Expensive marble ashtrays littered the large marble desk. The room was scarcely lit, as usual, with only the from the antique Tiffany lamp casting a menacing glow on his massive, ring-covered fingers which were interlocked and resting in from of him. There was a wall-length painting at the back of the room. It hid a door to a room in which he kept the files, records, guns, drugs and money. Where he had every piece of information on every deal he ever made and with everyone he ever made one with. He didn't trust computers, he was old school. Everything he needed was on paper in that tiny room. There was millions of dollars in that room and vital information that was the key to Antonio's growing business. Hundreds of thousands that he owed to other crews. The source of all the Russo power. Everything that was important to Tony was in that room. Frankie was holding her breath and frozen in place.

"Close the door, bella." He whispered. His voice sounded both seductive and petrifying. Frankie closed the door as well as her eyes and walked towards the plush arm chair that was sitting in from of his desk. As she sat down, the warm glow of a lighter illuminated Tony's beautiful face. He was wearing one of his Armani black suits and his dark hair was slicked back with just hair gel which kept it locked perfectly in place. His tan, clean shaven face was smiling at her invitingly.

Frankie fiddled with the sleeve of her coat, trying desperately to avoid his opaque eyes. The sudden movement made her jump with fright. Tony stood up from his chair and stalked over to turn on another light. The harsh brightness stung her eyes which she knew would give her away, instantly. He sat on the desk in front of her and slipped his Gucci loafer onto her chair, so it was resting against her thigh, holding her in place. He was toying with her and loving it. She was sure he could see the fear in her eyes and the guilt.

He didn't speak. He just puffed on his cigar and watched her. She could feel the beads of sweat rolling down her back and upper lip. She was coming down from the afternoon and needed a hit so badly that her body was starting to hurt. After another minute of agonising silence she opened her mouth to speak but Tony's silky soft finger was on her lips, silencing her. "Sssh, amore. I know. You don't need to say a word. I know it wasn't your fault. Joe told me everything, after some persuading, of course. He informed me that he was the one who took off with the haul and that you had nothing to do with it." Tony's soothing words made her recoil in confusion and he smirked, caressing her clammy cheek. He tutted and leaned over her so that his chest was pressed up against her. She could almost taste his sickeningly sweet cologne, cinnamon. She could see the small silver key hanging from a gold chain around his neck, nuzzled in against his mound of black chest hair.

She heard glasses clinking and then he was in front of her, again, holding a glass of champagne in front of her face. "Here. Drink this. Tonight we're celebrating." Frankie took the glass, warily and took a sip, not wanting to show him how scared she was. He clapped his hands in glee, making her jump and almost drop the glass. He hummed along to Vivaldi and stood up, walking to the door. Frankie didn't know what to feel. He knew it was Joe and not her, that was good, right? He wasn't going to punish her. She should be relieved but then why was she still trembling.

Tony popped his head out of the door and screamed something in rushed Italian. He took a large drag of his cigar and fixed his tie in the mirror behind Frankie. He was acting strange, something was wrong. Fear took hold of Frankie as she heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the office. She placed the glass down on the floor beside her feet, shielding it from view.