Bianchi: Dark Knight

1:1

Removing the troublesome reading glasses from my face I swipe a frustrated hand through my hair. There is always something to be done or taken care of and it seems as if the other Families of the Underworld have gone completely silent. Rowan is still on his own mission in Spain or wherever he has decided next. I haven't heard from him since he left, which is an issue for another day. Still an issue nonetheless.

Atlas is on his way to Chicago doing who knows what. I never even asked knowing he wouldn't give me a straight answer anyways. As he likes to say his business is his business. Surprisingly the Russian gave me a little bit of information about him coming to the states without any probing. Atlas isn't an adventurer and prefers his life in Murmansk, if that's where he still is these days. Whatever he is here for must be pertinent if he left his life of seclusion.

The pending and most immediate problem is the blowback from Club Sicily. I now have to finish cleaning this mess up so my affairs can be back in perfect order. Operations have resumed but it doesn't mean all is well. Which it isn't.

A new senator needs to be placed in office. While the Morino's handled other major players such as the D.A the senator needed to have the Fabian seal of approval. Admittedly that family could use a break, especially now that the middle son of Dominaco has finally gotten his woman and child back after the chaos with the Synds.

I would rather keep this simple and clean cut. No complications of the heart or other matters. We've had enough of that with their family already. It worked out for the best this time, that's not always guaranteed. What's good for them is good for me and my other associates. For now I'll take the reins until business is back in perfect order.

A knock on my office door interrupts my private wonders. Shouting for the person to come in the door opens and Angelo's muscularly lean figure walks in. Born after I, Zaviano, and then Zandrino, Angelo is the fourth child of the Bianchi's. Angelo isn't as obviously involved as some of my brothers and preferred to stay out of the way. Opting to handle behind the scene tasks. He's done such a great job improving the efficiency of our tech and has even sold some of his own creations to different companies. A necessary skill set that's profitable too. Being well-rounded secures our family in the present and the future. Most of all his accomplishments fill me with such pride, my brother is smarter and more creative than half the brainy twats with a startup. Silicon Valley my ass. Greatness is expected from each and every one of them. Seeing it happen before my eyes in real time is an incomparable gift. Time is never guaranteed so I take as much from it while I can.

Angelo takes a seat in the leather chair on the other side of my cherry oak desk.

He sits papers on the desk before leaning back into the seat. Blonde hair is parted in loose waves. Tired sea-foamed colored eyes stare back at me. Typical Angelo. As intelligent as he is, he's still twenty-four years old and whores around until all hours of the morning. When it comes to women Angelo just can't help himself. A playboy by the very definition of the word.

Each of my brothers and I inherited the same defined face structure. Looking at them reminds me of all of our similarities with our father. We're basically carbon copies of the man, our lineage irrefutable. Relation undeniable.

Looking at Angelo though all I ever see is Nicoletta Bianchi, our mamma. Angelo is her twin. Same softly hued green-blue eyes that sparkle in the light. Memories of her get fuzzy, sometimes to the point of me only remembering pieces of her. Blonde hair, petite frame, or the warmth from her hugs. Focusing on him always brings a defined picture of her to mind. His smile is her smile. His sun kissed blonde hair was given to him directly from her.

Seeing it now is like seeing her clearly again for the first time in a while--how long it had been I can't seem to remember. At this moment I see her in the ocean pulling us in one by one until we all would attack her. Can practically hear her angelic voice playfully calling for our father. She always said his name with such tender endearment.