Aunt Carmela picked up on the first ring, as I connected my phone to the car's bluetooth system.
"Alessio, my darling" she cooed, her voice warm and honeyed. "How are you? Are you eating well? Sleeping enough?"
I leaned back in my chair, letting her voice wash over me like a balm. She was the only softness I allowed in my life.
A faint smile tugged at my lips. "You always sound like you're running an interrogation, Zia. I'm fine."
"I worry, tesoro mio! You never visit. You hardly call these days."
"Zia…" I said, chuckling under my breath. "You sound a lil too nice today. What do you want?"
She gasped dramatically, and I could just picture her pressing a hand to her chest. "Can I not call my favorite nephew just because I miss him? My heart bleeds when I don't hear your voice."
That earned a low laugh from me. "You can drop the act, Zia. Tell me what you really want."
There was a short pause on her end, then a soft, guilty sigh. "All right, you got me. I want to see you. Come over for dinner tonight. Please."
That was when my amusement began to fade.
Dinner?
I narrowed my eyes. "You need to see me, or Marco does?"
Silence.
I fucking knew it. My father was pulling strings again. Using Carmela to get to me, cause he knows I have a soft spot for her.. He never asks directly. Always sent someone else to do his bidding.
I straightened, rounding off a corner. "He put you up to this, didn't he?"
"Alessio…" Her tone softened into that motherly guilt she'd perfected over the years. "Please, don't make this hard. You know he's still your father. Come. Just tonight."
"You know I hate family theatrics" I said in a low voice.
"If you don't come" she said dramatically, "I'll die of heartbreak."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Carmela was dramatic to her bones, and she knew I could never stay mad at her.
I rolled my eyes. "You're ridiculous."
"Please, Alessio. Just for a little while."
"Fine." I shook my head. "But I'm not staying long."
Her delighted squeal nearly burst my eardrum. "That's all I wanted to hear. You've made me happy, caro."
We chatted for a few more minutes while I drove, mostly about her garden and her latest fascination with lavender tea. She had always been the light in the Vitale family's darkness, the only one who gave a damn about something other than blood and money.
•••••
The Vitale mansion hadn't changed. Still cold. Still dark, and still filled with vengeful ghosts.
I walked through the corridor, memories clawing at me. The beatings. The tortures. The blood. If Carmela hadn't been there, I would've turned out worse.
I laughed under my breath at the thought. Not that I'm good now.
But I would've been way worse.
I heard tiny footsteps behind me and didn't flinch. I already knew who it was.
Zen.
She tried to ambush me. But before she could pounce, I spun around and caught her wrist midair.
She giggled as I threw her up. "How do you always know?!"
"Because you breathe too loud, piccola assassina." I flickered her nose.
My fifteen year-old cousin burst into laughter, throwing her arms around me. "You're never surprised! It's not fair. I missed you!"
I hugged her back, ruffling her hair. "I missed you too, little devil."
We walked together toward the dining room.
"How's School?" I asked.
"Boring." She pouted "Everything has been boring, but I know they'll be better now that you're here."
I chuckled. "You got that right, sweetheart.
And if any boy bothers you—"
"—you'll make them disappear." she finished, rolling her eyes.
"Exactly." I winked.
I knew she was tired of the men in this family always threatening every boy that tried getting close to her. But that's how we keep her safe.
We entered the grand dining room. Everyone was already seated, talking and eating.
Everyone, except my father stood when they saw me.
"Welcome Don" they greeted in unison.
My father's cold eyes flicked to me "Why are you late?" he asked, voice low.
I was amused at his audacity. "Why couldn't you call me yourself?"
He didn't answer. Just cleared his throat and turned back to the man beside him.
I pulled out my chair, as I scanned the people at the table. Carmela sat smiling brightly beside her husband, Yaro. Their older sons were here too, both standing respectfully. A few familiar faces from the inner circle sat further down the table.
Then my gaze caught two faces I hadn't expected to ever see again.
Bianca.
And her lapdog, Fidelis.
I felt the first spark of anger crackle through my veins. My jaw clenched. But I managed a smile, as I turned to my dear Aunt. She was looking down at her palms, guiltily.
I turned to her. "Now I understand why you wanted me here, Zia."
She grimaced, then gestured quickly to the servants.
"Bring the Don more caviar" she said, smiling like she could patch up this atmosphere.
My eyes drifted to Bianca, my ex fiancee, again. She sat perfectly composed, her eyes wide and shining with something between hope and delusion.
She smiled at me. "Longtime Alessio."
She was still the same. Desperate.
I turned to my father. "Tell me" I said quietly. "Why are there outsiders at a family dinner?"
Marco didn't look up. "Mind your manners, Alessio. They're guests."
Guests.
That word nearly made me laugh. This man has got me fucked up.
I smiled coldly. Then reached inside my coat and pulled out my gun, pointing it directly at Fidelis. His eyes widened. The table went deathly still.
"Alessio!" Carmela gasped. "Please, put that down!"
Fidelis reached for his holster, and immediately, my right-hand man, Matteo, stepped forward from the doorway, gun raised and trained not on Fidelis but on Bianca.
"Try me." I said, my finger itching to pull the trigger. "The moment I see your gun, her head explodes."
"Please, don't shoot!" Bianca cried out, trembling. "Fidelis! Stop"
The bastard froze, hands rising in surrender. He knew better. If she died, he'd be next — by her father's hand.
Marco slammed his fist on the table. "Enough!" He looked at me. "They're here for marriage talks. I know you're still young, but the organization wants stability. They want heirs."
Bianca's eyes watered as she leaned forward. "I love you, Alessio. I always have. You know that."
I laughed. Loud. Manic. Then I stood.
"This is the last time this marriage will be mentioned to me. Next time, I promise heads will roll."
I turned to leave. But my father's loud voice stopped me. "Alessio! Are you defying your father?"
I walked back to him, slowly and menacingly.
Then placed my hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
"Don't provoke me, padre. I'm the Don now. Let's not make this… ugly."
His jaw tightened, but he said nothing. I was glad, cause I'd hate to be known as the kid who crippled his father in anger.
I turned to leave. As I passed Carmela's sons, I patted their shoulders, kissed Zen's forehead, then bent to hug Carmela briefly.
"I'll be in the garden." I murmured. "Leaving in thirty."
She nodded, eyes sad. "Okay. I'll join you soon."
In the quiet garden, I leaned against a stone railing, playing PUBG on my phone.
Minutes later, Carmela appeared, wrapped in a shawl, her face pale in the moonlight. She didn't speak, just sighed and hugged me tightly.
I hugged her back. "Zia, no one died" I murmured. "You can stop grieving."
She laughed softly against my chest. "I'm sorry for tricking you. He begged me."
"Yeah, I figured as much." I looked down at her, flashing her a boyish grin. "You're forgiven."
Her eyes grew distant. "You know why he's desperate, don't you? The Riccis rule the waterways. Their cooperation could make or break the new project."
I exhaled slowly. "So you're here to convince me too?"
"No." she said firmly, squeezing my hand. "I'd never ask you to do what you don't want to. I want you to marry for love. Cassandra would have wanted that."
My throat tightened slightly at the mention of my mother's name. "Damn right, she would."
She reached up, and touched my cheek gently. "Then go home, caro mio. Don't let his darkness consume you."
I kissed her forehead and stepped back. "Goodnight, Zia." I said quietly.
She smiled sadly as I walked away toward my car.
•••••
Back at my abode, I stripped and stepped into the shower. The water was hot, and steam fogged up the bathroom.
I leaned against the wall, eyes closed, and I thought of her.
Her voice. Her scent. Her body.
I wanted her.
Not just her body. Her mind. Her secrets. Her soul.
I wanted to own her. Control her. Break her. And then rebuild her.
Yes, I was sick. Deranged.
Looking down, I saw I was hard. So I eagerly wrapped my lathered palm around my pulsing cock, and imagined I was pounding into Celeste's throat.