Chapter 107: Chapter One Hundred and Seven

Leo cleared his throat as Frankie and Gloria continued to wage ocular war across the living room.

“Um, perhaps we should…” Leo said, pointing toward the kitchen.

“Right,” Accardi agreed, slapping Conor on the shoulder and nudging him forward.

Frank Senior patted Frankie on the knee and followed the three mafia men, seeming twenty years younger and with the first smile on his face that Frankie had witnessed in years. Turns out the man just needed a homicidal release. Who would have thought?

Gloria was the first to break eye contact as she looked after the men. They could hear murmurs from the kitchen. Nora was coming to and she was crying.

“I’m going to go see if she…”

“Don’t fucking move,” Frankie growled.

“She might need medical attention,” Gloria hissed, her eyes filled with contempt.

“Don’t we all,” Frankie retorted.

“If you think I’m going to tend to your wounds…”

“I think you’re going to sit your ass right there until I’m good and ready to let you stand,” Frankie interrupted.

Silence descended on the room again as they both tried their best to melt the other with their eyesight alone. Gloria crossed her arms.

“I had a plan and you deliberately went against it,” Frankie said, his voice low but just as threatening as if he were screaming it.

“I knew what I was doing! I had a plan!” she finally exploded.

“Trust me, I know exactly what you had planned.”

“How could you possibly…”

“Because I would have done the exact same thing!” Frankie finally yelled. “I would have done whatever it took to protect you and I know you are just as demented as me whether through happenstance or osmosis, we’ll never know but I know how your brain works, Gloria Rubanov, because yours and mine are one in the fucking same!”

“Exactly, and just like I wouldn’t have let you do it, I knew you would stop me from doing it. But it was the best way to keep Nora safe, kill my father and protect those within the house! I weighed the various options along with the consequences and made a decision as any leader would!”

“Twenty years old and you think you’re the greatest Pakhan to walk the earth? Twenty years. That’s how old you are but that’s also how long I’ve been fucking doing this! I know this world better than you. Fuck, I know your family better than you. I was navigating this world before you were even a twinkle in your daddy’s eye!”

“I am the boss here!” Gloria screeched. “You knowingly undermined my authority during a situation in which I had the optimal upper hand to differentiate myself from my father!”

Frankie launched himself from the chair with enough force to tip it backward. He strode over to her and placed his palms on either side of her head. His fingers tightened along the back of the couch as he leaned in.

“You are not the boss of me, Gloria Rubanov. You can control an army to your heart’s content but never forget who owns your heart in the first place. You’re mine and that comes above everything. You do not get to sacrifice your body or your mind unless I give you explicit permission. Never utter those words to me again, do you understand?”

“You’re my Second,” she said with as much conviction as before but with a lower volume.

“I am your fucking husband. Which makes me your equal. I carry out your orders but not if it means allowing you to destroy yourself.”

“You’re not my husband yet! Nor may you become him at this point. You shot me!”

He shrugged. “You’ve stabbed me, sliced my face open and drugged me. I’m sure you’ll add a bullet to the list before the end of our days. Besides, I’m an excellent shot. It’s through and through: just meat, no arteries or bones. I did what I had to do to get you to drop your gun and not make a mistake you’d never be able to take back.”

Gloria shoved him so she could stand. She winced as she put weight on her leg.

“I will never be the leader you want me to be if you’re constantly pulling me from the fires I’ve started with my own hands.”

Frankie shrugged. “If you’re alive, I can live with that.”

“Well, I can’t. You don’t trust me or think I am capable of leading a mafia family.”

“I trust you but no, you’re right, I don’t think you’re ready. Death still affects you.” Frankie lowered his head to be eye-level with her. “Which is not an insult, Gloria.”

Gloria glanced around until she spotted the gun on the couch. “I am ready. Even if I wasn’t, I don’t have a choice. My father is dead. The role now passes to me.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“Accardi!” Gloria screamed.

Matteo appeared in the doorway, shoving a wad of nicotine gum into his mouth. “Huh?”

Gloria maintained eye-contact with Frankie as she asked, “Where are the men of mine you’ve rounded up?”

“Sidewalk out front,” he said with a nudge of his head toward the front window.

Gloria smiled tightly at Frankie before pivoting on her heel. She gritted her teeth as she tried to hide how the movement hurt her leg but her stride was firm as she walked toward the door.

The scene out front was a chaotic one. Blood coated most of the sidewalk and flowed into the sewer drain at the curb. Police lights illuminated the street as dusk settled over the city. She was meant to be sitting by candlelight right now, sharing champagne with her new husband as they looked longingly at each other. There was meant to be a live band serenading them for their first dance, speeches, the twinkling of glasses as the crowd demanded yet another kiss. Instead, Gloria was in pain, her dress spattered with the blood of her father, herself. The parts of her hair that had been pinned up now fell around her face and her ankles were screaming in protest from the slight heels she wore.

Gloria didn’t dwell on any of those things, though, as she walked toward the line of men forced to their knees. While policemen stood by their cars, many of them with their hands thrust in their bulletproof vests while others took statements which undoubtedly would be thrown in the bin, Accardi’s men stood watch over the Russian attackers.

Gloria walked toward the first man in line, glared at Accardi’s man to step aside and then turned her glare downward. She didn’t recognize him. Just another foot soldier. She didn’t need to recognize him, but it was his duty to recognize her. The man lifted his chin and sneered up at her. She raised the handgun to his forehead. She glanced up to make sure Frankie was there. He was watching from the porch, his expression stone. He shook his head once, as if warning her to not cross the line she was seconds away from leaping over.

“Who is the rightful Pakhan of the Rubanov family?” Gloria asked, still meeting Frankie’s eyes. Then she glanced down.

The man’s pupils narrowed while his lips twitched in hatred. “Ivan Rubanov!” he yelled.

Gloria squeezed the trigger. The bullet entered the man’s skull with a resounding bang that covered the sound of a crack splintering through her soul. The impact of the shot sent him backward. His body landed in a heap, motionless. She looked back up at Frankie, his expression the same, as she took a single step to the right. She looked down at the next man in line.

“Who is the rightful Pakhan of the Rubanov family?” she asked.

This man spat at her rather than respond. A second shot echoed through the streets. He landed partially atop the first man. Another step to the right. This man was shaking.

“Who is the rightful…”

“Gloria! Gloria Rubanov!” he yelled.

“Good. Will you follow her?” she asked. The man nodded eagerly and practically bowed at her feet.

She looked to the closest Accardi man and bobbed her head down in silent communication to help him up. Accardi’s soldier looked up at the porch for confirmation and, once Accardi gave the nod, he did as Gloria requested. Another step sideways.

“Who is the rightful Pakhan to the…”

“You are, Princess. But no,” he shook his head. “I will not follow a woman.”

Gloria smirked. “Too bad, the view is far better when you’re standing behind one.”

A third gunshot and the man fell back, never to spread his misogyny through the streets again. Gloria glanced toward the porch once more. Frankie continued to watch her. Now, as their eyes met while she took another step, he shook his head. This time it wasn’t in warning, but instead… disappointment. He shoved off the porch railing, turned his back and walked inside.

Gloria blinked back her anger and looked down yet again. “Who is the rightful Pakhan of the Rubanov family?”