Bella Mafia

Chapter 1

My name is Calliope Rose Mancini and I'm from New York.  Manhattan to be exact.  I was born into wealth and affluence but none of those things ever mattered to me.

I have often been approached to be a model but that has never appealed to me either, being in the spot light and having people lust over me.  That's not who I am and it's not who I want to be.

I inherited my dad and mom's height, standing at five foot nine inches tall, I have a very natural and curvaceous body.  I have my dad's deep, brown eyes and my mother's hair, only mine goes to my waist.

I have been told that I'm a natural beauty, in not much need of makeup but on the occasion that I have to dress up, I can't keep the men away from me and that is why I don't go out and try to stay as simple and plain as I can.  I don't want attention like that.

I worked very hard in school, made good grades and had lots of friends.  I graduated at the top of my class and went away to Columbia, receiving my Bachelor's degree in Forensic Accounting and was looking forward to starting a life with that career, when life had it's own ideas.

My father's mother, Abrielle Accardi (she goes by her maiden name), my nona, had asked their permission for me to be her companion.  I was never asked, I was just told that I was to do this, joyfully, and for the family, that all would be made clear to me in due time.

I loved my nona but to say that I was pissed was beyond exaggeration.  I was livid.  I had worked my whole school career, making good grades and applying myself so I could go out into the world and become someone that could make a difference.

I could see that would never happen as long as my father had me under his thumb.  That's where he liked the women in his life, under his obsessive, controlling thumb.  All of them except nona that is.

My mother was blind to the fact that he stepped out on her every chance he got.  She waited at home like the good little trophy wife and as long as the money and position held out, she would stay with him no matter what.

It also didn't hurt that a wife couldn't testify against her husband and vice versa.  Oh yeah, didn't I tell you?  My father is the consigliere for the Siranni family, in other words, he's Mafia.  A made man.

Let me tell you about my father.  Antoine Mancini.  He's tall.  Six foot five.  Dark, black wavy hair, not a gray one in his head at all and cold, dark brown eyes.  He's quite muscular in that he takes very good care of himself.  And despite the fact that he's fifty-five, he doesn't look a day over forty and that's what makes the women flock to him.

My mother, Anastasia Mancini, is tall as well, standing at five foot, seven inches and in her early fifties, although because of her family bloodline, she looks in her thirties.  My mother is part Russian and Italian and has the best of both worlds where genetics are concerned.

She has silky black hair that hangs down the middle of her back, like an obsidian curtain.  Her eyes are ice blue, making her look that much more alluring to the opposite sex.  She has a model's body and the brain of an air head.

I suspect that my mother is sharper than she lets on, but in order to keep my father happy, if that sort of thing really exists, she plays dumb for him and he gets off on it.  Those two were definitely a match made for each other.

Don't get me wrong, I love my parents, but neither of them has a clue about anything or anyone that comes into contact with them.  Clueless is putting it mildly.

I just turned twenty-four last week, had the standard party, with my 'friends' and I use that term loosely only because they want to associate with someone that has a title, money and position.

I was okay with not having friends, as it gave me more time for the things that truly made me happy and that was reading or spending time with nona.

Speaking of nona, I was heading to her house right now, with bags packed, as I was told we were starting our traveling time together that very day.

I couldn't help but wonder why all of a sudden she would want me as a travel companion.  This line of conversation had never come up before and I couldn't help but ask myself why now?

Arriving outside her penthouse, Charles, our family's driver, got out and opened up my door.  My body guard James walked me inside the building, into the elevator and up to the entire floor that nona owned.

"Come in!" I heard her sweet, accented voice call out.  Nona was Italian, through and through.  She is incredibly beautiful now, but back when she was my age, she had to beat the men off with a stick, she used to joke with me.

Now, due to health issues and other things, she spent most of her time in a motorized chair but that didn't diminish her sense of humor or her need for adventure and I surmised that the beginning of this trip would be one for the history books.

"Bella, mi amore" she greeted me as I leaned down and kissed both her cheeks.  One thing about nona, she was old school and she liked to speak our language as often as possible and she always believed in kissing both cheeks when greeting someone.

I loved her penchant for all things dramatic.  She was feisty, beautiful and smart.  From a very young age, I went to her for everything.  I never went to my mother because all of her advice was based off materialistic things and ideas.  Nona's were all based off the heart, mind and body.

"Dove siamo fuori per ora (Where are we off to now)?" I asked after kissing her cheeks.  She grinned while tapping the side of her nose.  "We are going to Vegas!" she announced dramatically.

Vegas?  What the hell was in Vegas, except casinos, more food than one person should eat, showgirls and made men.  Dear Lord, I thought.  What is this woman playing at now?  What reason could she possibly have for going to Vegas?

"Uh, nona" I started.  "What's in Vegas?" I asked.  She smiled even more at my question.  "Ah my dear.  It's not what's in Vegas but who" she said nodding her head and that's all she was going to give me.

"What are you up to, nona?" I asked again, hoping for some clarification but all I got was the run-around.

Sighing with frustration, I sat down and said "Fine nona.  Looks like it's going to be another one of those 'it's for your own good and you'll find out when you need to know' situations.  God, dad did that to us all the time."

I didn't mean to sound so bitchy about it, but I was frazzled.  Still upset over my job, or lack thereof now and being kept in the dark.  I could overlook a lot but being lied to, that was something I wouldn't tolerate.

I guess that's probably why I only had one boyfriend.  After seeing what a man whore my father was, I didn't want what was happening to my mother to happen to me too.

I wasn't going to sit around and be the topic of conversation as being 'the poor' wife who didn't know her husband was stepping out on her.  That was not going to be me.

I ignored the look on her face, got up and said "Well, let's get this show on the road."  James gathered my bags and nona's and we headed downstairs to the car.  Once loaded we were headed to a private airstrip where we would board a private plane.

"Ti amo, Calliope (I love you, Calliope)" my nona said once we were on the plane and seated.  "Ti amo anch'io, nona (I love you too)" I returned the sentiment with a smile.  And I really did.  I loved her more than life.

"This is your pilot speaking.  We are preparing for take off and we're looking at clear skies and great weather all the way to Las Vegas.  Our flight time, give or take, is about five hours.  So relax and your flight attendant will be around shortly to take any orders your might have.  Thank you and enjoy your flight."  Our captain finished his speech as we settled back into our comfortable seats.

I kicked off my shoes for now and when we are about an hour away from landing I will go and change my clothes, per nona, because she is going to want to go straight to dinner and a show as soon as we reach the Bellagio.

This was going to be interesting was all I could keep telling myself and knowing nona, this would be a trip to remember.

I wouldn't realize how true that statement was until we arrived and then I would be told how my life had already been planned out for me, right down to a man, lifestyle and a way of life.