uoıʇıɹɐdsıᗡ

ᴅɪᴇᴄɪ - ᴘᴀꜱᴛ

A father is a man who expects his son to be as evil a man as he meant to be ~ Vincenzo Morelli.

Valentinia:

(Past 3 years ago)

Previously...

A man with dark, greying hair appeared in front of us, his slight stubble made him appear more intimidating. He looked strangely familiar to Mr Morelli. Wait hold on a minute, is he...

***

Oh, my lord, he is. He has the same brooding figure as Mr Morelli's, however, Mr Morelli is slightly taller by an inch or two. Both have green eyes; however, Mr Morelli's are much darker, holding much more pain and anguish within them. Their hair is both a silky, caramel dark brown, but the man has mostly silver in it due to age. Finally, they both had identical, sinister smirks. Both men held a type of darkness within their souls.

That man was his father. I confirmed.

"Am I interrupting?" The man asked, politely.

"Yes, Vincenzo you are." Mr Morelli replied, coldly. Why isn't he addressing him as his father? I thought, intrigued.

"Son, that's no way to treat your father, the one who raised you." He replied, emotionless.

"Well you didn't do a very good job, did you? You raised a monstrosity of a man." I cut in.

"Did I ask you to praise me with your opinion, Puttana?" He asked me, coldly.

"How dare yo-

I didn't know what 'Puttana' meant but what I did know was that it meant something derogatory.

"Vincenzo, you will not speak to my wife that way!" Mr Morelli ordered. I am not your wife.

"Wife? If I didn't know any better, you don't do commitment, Valentin. Just whores."

"People change." Mr Morelli replied.

"Men like you don't." His father stated.

"Don't you mean me like you, father. You were the one who couldn't stay committed to mother." Spitting out 'father' with disgust.

"You know that the relationship with your mother and I was complicated. She couldn't accept my way of providing for our family."

"So, you are still using that excuse for your of acts unfaithfulness towards her? Do you know what you are? You're a coward!" Mr Morelli stated, coldly.

Deciding that this is none of my concern, nor my business. I said,

"Seeing as I don't want to intrude in this intriguing conversation that you are having. Please excuse me, I am going to get a beverage."

Before one of them could reply I dashed towards the bar, but not before Mr Morelli sent me an intense glare, causing a shiver to run down my spine.

Arriving at the bar, a young man who looked a few years older than me greeted me and asked what I wanted to order.

Ignoring what he said about drinking no alcohol I asked,

"A Strawberry Martini, please?"

"Coming right up, beautiful." He answered, cheerily.

About one minute later he placed a long glass in front of me, filled with a red liquid. Slowly sipping the alcoholic beverage my instant opinion was that it tasted sweet, very sweet indeed. Observing the people around me I noticed that the woman all wore expensive dresses and jewellery and that they were all hanging off of a man's arm, desperate to gain their attention. Desperate hoes. I shouldn't judge, they might be in the same predicament as me.