CHAPTER TWENTY | MEET THE ROMANO'S
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THE LOUD CHATTERING OF cameras and lights going off surrounded Genevieve and Elias as they carefully stepped out of the limousine. A crowd of paparazzi and news outlets swarmed around them, some extending microphones and asking questions while some continually snapped pictures of the adoring couple.
Genevieve smiled as she posed while walking down the red carpet, Elias awkwardly posing next to her, his facial features contorting in various different expressions.
When the crowd died down, the couple entered the Grecian-style mansion. Large beige-colored marble outlined the floors, a large antique looking staircase standing right in front of them at the foyer. Coats of soft off-white paints and black architectural trimming framed the walls, and a series of different statues were positioned in corners—old-fashioned paintings next to them.
Elias couldn't help but breathe in the manor, it was certainly beautiful. He had visited various different mafia locations, one being the bidding in Dubai while others was the cocktail party at Gates Manor—but he definitely reserved the title for the Greek-styled home.
"How could you not like this?" Elias asked when he noticed Genevieve's distasteful look for the palace-like home. "It's amazing."
"I suppose it's alright," shrugged Genevieve, her mouth puckish, "it's certainly better than Mick Jagger."
He gave her a weird look, "Mick Jagger?"
Genevieve in response scrunched her eyebrows together, entwining her hand with his while the other flipped around. "That's what I call the abandoned buildings in Dartford, England—I mean, they're both wrinkled, old and both are in Dartford."
"Why would you call it Mick Jagger anyway, who names a building 'Mick Jagger'?"
"Well, I can't call it Johnny Depp can't I," Genevieve shot back, "he's too beautiful to be compared to an old abandoned building."
Elias gave his girlfriend a look; he never understood what it was with women and 80's men. He wouldn't call them attractive, but he couldn't deny the British actor was in a certain and in a straight manner, "good-looking". But it got old after some time, growing up in a household filled with women it was a usual for them to gush over a certain actor or singer—though, without a doubt Elias hated when he had to give up his weekly, Sunday Nights Football, for his mother and sister to watch reruns on their twentieth-century soap operas; that in his opinion were the most disgusting show someone would watch.
"How do you women get obsessed with the same men, I mean you probably never even met him!" Elias exclaimed, trying desperately to get her to quiet down.
Genevieve raised an eyebrow towards him, "Don't act like you wouldn't kill for them, I bet if you had to pick 80's Cindy Crawford over me; you'd take the latter."
"It's Cindy Crawford for fucks sake!" Elias uttered, his arms flailing around.
"'It's Cindy Crawford for fucks sake,"" Genevieve mocked, her hands raising while her fingers bent in quotation marks. "Well, then I can have Johnny Depp for myself then, dumbass."
Elias frowned, instantly regretting he ever mentioned the name of the 70's model. But could anybody blame him, it was Cindy Crawford, she was like the Megan Fox of the eighty's—in his defense the only reason he even knew about the model was for one of his high-school friends, Ben, who was coincidentally obsessed with Playboy magazines and the 80s.
From the corner of his eye, Elia noticed a staring Jonas, who was looking at the brunette weirdly. Large red marks were slashed on the blonde's neck from when Genevieve choked her. Yet, Jonas made no move in self-defense, and it wasn't that she didn't know how to defend herself; Elias has seen Jonas beat Daniel's ass various times.
"You know," Elias started, looking at the brunette suggestively, "you could apologize to Jonas for the scene earlier."
Genevieve raised her hand to her chin, feigning a thinking face. Her face suddenly dropped to a smirk. "No, why would I do that?"
"It's a chance to do the right thing."
"Oh, I love those moments!" Genevieve squealed. "I like to wave at them as they pass by!" She mimicked her words, her legs doing a small prance while her free hand waved slightly.
Elias slumped his shoulders from his earlier excitement, "How do you manage to live, Viv?"
"Just close your eyes and pretend it's all a bad dream," Genevieve said simply, "That's how I get by." Suddenly she perked up, raising her index finger while giving her partner a wide smile. "I also drink lots of champagne, it's like a therapist but it doesn't charge 250 hundred per session, just 60."
"You spend 60 dollars on a single bottle of champagne?" Elias asked, his eyes wide.
Genevieve shrugged, "What do you want me to buy? A five dollar bottle from a local liquor shop? Please, they're complete rip-offs, half the bottle is polluted water that they fished out from a local bar's urinal."
"That's illegal."
"Do you think that'll stop them?" Genevieve clarified, her eyebrows raising while giving him wide-eyes. "I'd rather die than get my perfectly healthy immune system infected by some highly-contaminated-untested-piss like water mixed with cheap whiskey."
Elias scoffed, "You drink and smoke so much it's a miracle your immune system still exists!"
"Ha . . . Ha . . . Ha . . . You're hilarious," Genevieve smiled sarcastically.
When Elias responded with his normal, silky laugh, Genevieve couldn't help but glare at him. An action she's been accustomed to do around him, especially for the past week or so—most likely since the day she met Millie.
Offended, Genevieve flipped her hair, and sauntered away from him entering the grand ballroom, her heels clicking against the old-fashioned marble floors. Instantly the constant chattering dies down, all carefully watching Genevieve enter the room in complete silence.
Elias stood a few feet away confused as ever, sneakily, he shuffled next to Jonas and Daniel who were standing in a corner, champagne in hand as they chatted quietly; welcoming smiles graced their faces as they caught sight of Elias walking towards them.
Genevieve on the other hand, immersed herself in the crowd of mourning criminals. None being dangerous whatsoever—although from constant stereotypes, criminals tended to have respect for a leader or a don's death, a tradition that had been passed down for centuries.
Alexander De Angelo stalked up to the brunette immediately engulfing the young woman in an immense bear hug, Francesca watching gracefully next to her.
"My, tesoro, white? Bold choice," Alexander chimed, his eyebrows peeking as he let out a laugh with his wife, quietly emphasizing that the event was-in fact a funeral.
"I didn't die," Genevieve asserted, her shoulders shrugging as she trailed her eyes against the crowd, tentatively watching if she caught any family members she didn't particularly want to interact with.
"I mean, of course you didn't bu—"
Francesa patted her husband's chest, promptly shutting him up, turning around she gave the brunette a humble smile. "You look beautiful."
"Thank you."
"Oh! Genevieve!" Alexander exclaimed as he reached out behind him, roughly pulling a man in front of the brunette.
The man had jet black ruffled hair that reached his shoulders in voluminous old-fashioned curls. His eyes were painted a very hypotonic hazel color while his body sported a blue tux with a neon vomit-colored-green bow tie. Genevieve could determine him as 'mildly attractive', if he had a couple plastic surgeries, a haircut, and a personal stylist—he'd be off the hook.
"Hi, I'm Aiden Kaden!" Aiden Kaden exclaimed, Genevieve could spot the slight snort laced in his voice, an instinctive that he seemed to have was pressing his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose; almost smashing against his forehead.
Genevieve sent him an acknowledging nod, "Hi . . . Aiden Kaden, I'm Gen—"
"Genevieve!" Aiden butted in, "I know, everybody knows you're like, a-a celebrity!" Immediately he pounced onto the brunette, pulling her into a hug.
Instinctively, Genevieve caught him midair, swiftly pushing him back with force. A scowl slowly etched on the twenty-two year olds face as she dusted the front of her white gown, not failing in sending a flushed-face Aiden a dirty look.
"Well," the brunette breathed, "It was a pleasure to meet you, but I have acquaintances to meet and places to b—"
Aiden dropped into a bow, pulling his forward in offering, "For my inappropriate behavior I shall request a dance with you my fair lady—"
"I think she'll be alright with me," Elias broke in, his hands already leading Genevieve towards the center of the ballroom, where various differently aged couples were dancing to soft piano notes that rang in the short distance.
Softly, Elias wrapped his hand around Genevieve's waist while the other folded behind his back, leaving the brunette's arms to stand on her sides flowing on the side of the white gown.
The large skylight reflected the crystal-looking stars into the room, the light of dimly lit candles and torches supporting the visibility of the room. The soft reflection of the moonlight illuminated Genevieve's gown.
The once dancing partners parted ways, leaving the waltzing space to only Genevieve and Elias. Quietly they all gathered around the dance space tentatively watching the couple.
Elias' eyes never leaving the brunette's, he could spot the shine in her periwinkle eyes under the soft white light, small shining iris reflected gathered diamonds, so hypotonic that he couldn't possibly look away.
Genevieve mimicked his actions, his eyes were a pool of cool water, light and ominous. A few soft sun rays reflected off his light gray orbs, making them much more deep than before. She saw the life inside his eyes.
Looking away as they twirled around, Genevieve's gaze skimmed slowly through the crowd, spotting various women surrounding them, some looking envious while some had a sense of glee painted on their expressions. She could see Jonas watching them dance closely, a soft smile gracing her features—moving, she spotted Francesca a few feet farther away, tears brimming her eyes as she sent the brunette a smile, the encouragement she needed.
Turning towards Elias once again, Genevieve's face graced with a small smile, her chest heaving upwards softly, due to the corset pressing against her diaphragm.
"They're all looking at you," Genevieve breathed, her face lighting up while watching the male.
Elias grinned delicately, his eyebrow perking, "Believe me, they are all looking at you."
Swiftly, he turned her around, his wants softly switching at the side of her waist while her eyes were trained on the crowds looking at them softly.
She could feel the side of her gown following her with each swayed movement, it's earlier heaviness disappearing once she met Elias' eyes, who was waltzing in front of her.
Gasps followed them as they swayed together, Francesca could sense the nerves bubbling inside of her as she kept her gaze on the couple. The soft piano and violin notes harmonizing together echoed around them as they watched Genevieve's gown flow, the skylit light reflecting on the tiny crystals embedded on the train.
Once they both met face to face, Elias grasped her, one hand on her waist while the other on her hand. Both starting in a classical waltz, her head dipping on each of the soft swivels, her hair flinging around with each of her movements.
A giggle escaped Genevieve's face as Elias pulled his tongue out slightly, making a funny face. The crowd gawked, taking a step back when noticing the couple's waltz was moving in a larger circle.
Elias couldn't help but admire the brunette beauty in front of him. With their prompt proximity, he noticed the almost undetectable freckles that littered her nose—a small scar was carefully drawn from her forehead past the eyebrow, an aspect that he seemed to never notice due to it being covered by various amounts of beauty products.
Genevieve huffed slightly when Elias twirled her around, the unexpected action giving her a reason to send him a playful glare; one he responded with a cocky grin.
Various amounts of surprised breaths were taken by the swarming crowds as the carefully observed Elias pick Genevieve up by her waist, her gown flowing in a beautiful manner with each of her movements.
A delighted smile graced her features as she closed her eyes, letting herself soak in the moment, feeling Elias close to her, the soft melodies swarm her body making her completely melt into the music—the waltz coming naturally to her.
With one last lift, Elias gently put her down, bending forward slightly, he watched as Genevieve lowered down, her frock spreading around her, the glimmering jewels that were embedded onto her hair were carefully reflected on the white polished marble flooring.
Grasping each other, the couple closed their eyes, their lips parting as they were about to lock lips—a large bang interrupting their moment.
The large double doors that were intricately carved in thick swirls and patterns were thrown open, the she-devil herself walking in; the rest of her clan following close behind, though, giving the woman distance.
"Darling! Ciao!"
Elias gave Genevieve a look of confusion once the woman reached out to them, capturing the brunette in an action that somewhat looked like a hug.
Genevieve pushed her away, not sparing a glance at Elias, while looking at the woman with an everlasting glare—her light, delicate periwinkle eyes darkening into a royal blue.
"Hello, mother."
- - - - - -
"Oh darling, stop with the unnecessary coldness," said Loraine, amused. Her hands bringing the newly found margarita to her lips taking a small sip.
Genevieve feigned a smile towards her mother, "Of course, because I'm so happy of you being here."
"Gemma, uh, Genevieve—stop with the flattery," gushed Loraine, flipping her white gloved clad hand at her daughter, moving her blonde hair out of the way.
Elias tried his best to stifle his own laughter, he couldn't possibly tell the two women as mother and daughter; surely, they had their various similarities but overall they don't even seem to be related.
Loraine wasn't a simple woman, in fact, she was quite the opposite. You'd never find Loraine Romano with at least a local Cartier's stock, dropping on her arms and neck. Compared to Genevieve's dark chocolate locks, Loraine sported a short blonde Cleopatra-styled bob, much similar to Isabelle and Vienna's slick blonde manes.
Whilst Genevieve liked to wear more simple, comfortable clothes that could potentially be used in combat—Loraine much more liked to wear something that would catch the attention of someone three countries away. Her body normally clad in any sort of formal jumpsuit, with a voluminous feather-embroidered hat and Paris Hilton inspired six-inch stilettos.
It would take an idiot for them to notice that they didn't even look the slightest related.
"Now, Gasoline—I mean, Genevieve," Loraine started, hissing when she mispronounced her own daughter's name. "How are you darling, how's your boyfriend; Wiesel, was it?"
Genevieve narrowed her eyes at her mother, trying her best not to look at Elias who was gazing at her confused, "I'm fine, he's fine. We're not in a relationship."
"Oh please, I remember how you used to call me when you were seventeen, gushing about him," Laughed Loraine, grasping Genevieve's shoulders giving her a small reassuring squeeze.
"No, that was a long time ago—"
"I heard he escaped prison! Such a tragedy for him to be caught in the first place," said Loraine, the corner of her lips tilting downwards into a frown as she kept drinking from the margarita. Genevieve widened her eyes, snapping her gaze towards Elias who looked beyond-confused than before. Both were never informed that the tattooed man potentially escaped a high-end security jail.
Loraine gasped, placing her manicured hand over her mouth—well, keeping a safe distance in between her lips and her hand to prevent her blood-red lipstick getting smudged. "You didn't know?!"
"No mother, because if I did I would be looking at you like this," Genevieve pointed out, her finger raising emphasizing her facial expression.
"Stop with ironies, Gerald—Genevieve, this a serious topic that needs to be profoundly discussed in an orderly manner—"
Genevieve rolled her eyes, "Please mother, don't intend on making your vocabulary capacity bigger because I'm around. You barely know the meanings of half the words your saying."
"Garbage, I mean, Genevieve—"
"How do you forget your own daughter's name?!" Elias asked incredulously, his eyebrow piercing while looking at Loraine.
"And who are you?" Loraine turned towards Elias, giving him an unnecessary once-over. When Genevieve noticed her mother's actions, she immediately stepped in front of Elias, trying to cover his immense body compared to hers.
Elias gave her a curt nod, the corner of his lips tilting slightly. "Elias Maverick, ma'am. I'm a poli—"
"Political Campaign C.E.O organizer!" Genevieve shot out, her eyes wide while giving her mother a toothy grin. Her hand covering Elias' mouth preventing from giving too much information.
Loraine nodded to each of Genevieve's words, "I'm afraid I've never heard of such a job, well it's the age. I've studied in Oxford, I'm technically an encyclopedia!" Loraine bragged, excitedly.
"Wikipedia is a more reliable source than you are, mother," Genevieve rolled her eyes, feeling the rest of the Romano clan surrounding them.
"Don't talk about mama like that, Genevieve," Lorenzo sneered.
Lorenzo Romano, the oldest child in the Romano clan, and potentially the heir for the mafia. Genevieve could recall him as being a mama's boy, always defending and fighting for her—killing anything that got in her way, yet never thinking about himself. Idiot, he was, he wouldn't think twice in killing himself if Loraine asked him to.
"Listen to your brother Grapefruit—uh, Genevieve, I'm your mother, I raised you and you shall treat me as such," Loraine snarled, standing close to her brunette daughter, narrowing down at her.
Genevieve snorted, "I raised myself. And if anyone deserves to be treated as such, it's me."
"Genevieve I—"
"You know what? Save it, I'm going to go and get a breath of fresh air," assured the brunette, not faulting in sending her siblings a fake smile.
Julian, her younger brother, also twin of Vienna, perked up. "There's air in here, what's the problem with it?"
"Fine, suffocate yourself and then I'll breathe the air from here," Genevieve swiveled around, her heels turning towards the large mahogany double doors that led to the grand yard.
Elias followed her, grasping Genevieve's shoulder, he gave her a look. "Do you want me to come with you?"
"No, I'll be fine."
Reaching the garden, Genevieve jogged down the concrete stairs, letting the gusts of wind hit her body as she reached the edge of the large pool.
It felt hard, ten years. Ten years, in which she hadn't seen her family in person, other than Isabelle, she hadn't seen any of her siblings or her mother since she ran away when she was twelve.
Closing her eyes, Genevieve tried to calm the feeling of nausea on the pit of her stomach, allowing for the slight coldness in the air to calm her nerves and anger.
Suddenly, a hand grasped her shoulder, making Genevieve lift her fist ready to knockout the person, only to find Matt behind her.
"Hi," Matt started, lifting his hands behind his head in defense.
"Hi."
He cleared his throat, before he could start talking, Genevieve cut in, "Why are you here."
"I found out the information that you asked," he confirmed. Reaching for his satchel next to him, he exposed a series of documents and photographs, most specifically the ones from the surveillance cameras. "I've contacted many of the witnesses at the Louvre, a man, Damon Monet, said he spotted the killer and described her as—old, around 40 or 50, blonde short hair, and fairly slim."
"He also said she carried a grey wool coat, and wore a limited edition Cartier necklace," continued Matt, taking out a photo of the necklace that was described, one that Genevieve just so happened to know perfectly.
Mother, she thought. When she replayed the words said, a question dawned onto her, "Was he gay?"
"Gay? No, why?" Matt asked, giving the brunette an incredulous look.
"Gay men know designers, straight men don't," Genevieve explained, "The man either wanted to incriminate my mother or he was helping her."
Matt nodded in understanding before taking a series of DNA test results, making Genevieve give him a weird look, "I tracked Loraine down all over Italy, she has a gang, one that's not involved with the mafia—named the 'Cobraz'. They are known for various kidnappings—kidnappings of mafia children and heirs." His hand grasped hers, handing the documents over.
Genevieve furrowed her eyebrows confused, ripping the orange envelopes open, various names trailed around the genealogical tests. She could spot her siblings' names on separate papers, all showing a positive acclaim of their relations with Loraine. What caught most of her attention was Elias' name on one of the papers next to hers; the papers fell out of her grasp once she read both of their results.
A stray tear ran slowly to her cheek, dropping to the ground in unison with her knees. Genevieve's hands found themselves tangled in her hair, ripping the embedded accessories off—looking up she noticed that Matt disappeared, along with her pride.
- - - - - -
Inside, Elias stood with Daniel and Bob, silently chatting next to Francesca and the Romano clan. The rest of the guests were quietly dispersed around the ballroom, while some were calmly getting pissed, some were mourning over the chapel of Enzo Romano, the mafia don who unfortunately died a month before.
The doors leading to the garden suddenly burst open, catching the attention of all the guests. In came Genevieve running in a dark scowl carefully etched on her face, her once snow-white dress was ripped and dirty, her hair disheveled in different angles.
"WHERE THE HELL IS SHE?!"
Bob's face furrowed as he stepped forward to the boiling brunette, giving her a confused look. "What's the matter?"
When Genevieve reached him, she lifted her palm slamming it across his face, the silent room echoing with a loud slap, causing Elias and Daniel to cower back, covering their mouths surprised.
"You lying bitch!" Snarled Genevieve, walking towards her mother who was standing surprisingly stunned, a typical margarita in hand.
"What in god's name?!" Daniel whispered, dragging everyone with him, all watching Genevieve stomp towards her mother.
Francesca gave Elias a worried expression, "Elias, what happened?"
"I have a feeling we're going to find out," mumbled Elias in response, his gaze trailing over his red-faced girlfriend.
"Was any of it true?" Asked Genevieve, looking her mother in the eye, huffing, "Or has it all been a lie since the day I was born?"
Loraine scrunched her botox-induced face up in uncertainty. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"Where have you been the last 17 years? The last 10?" Genevieve asked. "Hell, the last month!"
"Everyone knows," Loraine responded, throwing her hands up in despair, her chocolate-brown eyes widening. "I was all over Europe, taking over the mafia. Dubai—"
Genevieve snicker unamused, "You couldn't even afford to send a postcard to Dubai." Her hand brought up the documents that have clearly stated her movements for the past seventeen years. "I know all about your little kidnapping spree."
"You know about that?" Loraine asked, simply. "Well that's a temporary situation—"
The brunette cut her off once again, "Oh, temporary as in seventeen years?!"
"I am in the process of returning all those kidnapped children back to their rightful guardians by next summer," Loraine tried to explain, "my gang is returning children at this moment, as we speak."
Genevieve looked at the blonde woman in utter disgust, her hands finding themselves at her hip. "What is wrong with you? You are unbelievable, I have caught you red-handed and you're doubling down on more lies."
Loraine narrowed her eyes at the brunette, seething, "How dare you call your mother a liar! You don't even know me."
"How could I?" Laughed Genevieve, her shoulders shrugging slightly. "I'm not the child you chose to stay in touch with—much less your biological one!"
Uncountable amounts of gasps surrounded them, some even coming from the Romano children, themselves. Elias snapped his gaze towards Francesca who had her expression mimicking his, actually mimicking everyone's.
The woman found her hand tugging at the collar of her jumpsuit in discomfort. "Well, I—my children at least bothered."
Genevieve chuckled darkly, following as her mother tried to stroll away. "There it is. Now we get to see when Loraine Romano runs out of lies."
She lifted her finger accusingly, tears brimming her eyes, "You know, for a split second—for a split second you had me believing that you cared; that you cared enough, to let me run away when I was twelve, and barely contact me. And when you did it was to see how I was holding up in New York, when you lied to the bitch of your husband, saying I died to let me escape. But you don't care about anybody but yourself."
"What kind of horrible woman kills her sister and kidnaps her children!" Genevieve yelled, pushing Loraine, making her stumble back.
Loraine scowled, "That's not true, my feelings for all my family are equally genuine."
"Nothing about you is genuine!"
Genevieve swiftly grasped the back of Loraine's head of soft blonde hair, ripping the luscious hair extensions from the woman's scalp. Taking the opportunity, Genevieve threw the wig towards the water fountain that stood in the middle of the ball room.
"You spiteful little brat," growled Loraine, her hands wrapping around Genevieve's elbows—both struggling to throw one another into the fountain.
With a small slip, they both were thrown into the pool, splashing water at each other, ugly scowls etched on their face as they pulled each other underwater.
A blood-curdling scream escaped Genevieve's lips when Loraine pushed her head underwater, the noise being muffled by the bubbles escaping her throat.
"You were never a mother to me!" Genevieve snarled, her once flawless makeup was smudged and dripping, black mascara coated her wet cheeks as her hair was tangled in her face.
"As if anybody could be a mother to you," Loraine snapped standing up, "you were born an evil manic!"
Genevieve snorted annoyedly, "Like mother, like daughter!"
Once Loraine climbed out, she flicked her wet extensions around, growling at Genevieve. "Obviously, I should've killed you as a child!"
A splash of water surrounded Genevieve as she stood up, her heavy gown turning even heavier as the water's weight dawned onto her. When Elias came to help her, she just pushed him away, anger still pulsing through her veins as she stomped away, not forgetting to flip a finger towards a laughing Bob.
- - - - - -
"I always told you she needed to see a specialist," Loraine admitted, wrapping a towel around her cold damp body. "And now she's lost her mind."
Daniel leaned onto Elias giving him a small smile, Jonas standing next to him, biting on her manicured nails nervously. "That was rather subdued behavior for Genevieve."
"I guess your lies have finally caught up with you, Loraine," Francesca sassed, looking at the blonde woman in displeasure.
Loraine scrunched her nose in irritation, "You're the one who poisoned her against me—"
"You poisoned yourself."
Genevieve strolled into the room, a revolver in hand. A loud gunshot echoed around them, as the brunette threw a bullet against the ceiling, bits of crumbled paint and concrete slammed against the ground making everyone cower back.
"That's more typical," Daniel assured towards a wide-eyed Elias.
"You may remember this," Genevieve suggested, displaying the old-fashioned hand gun. "A little gift, mommy dearest, sent to me for my sixteenth birthday," she shrugged her shoulders, "you know—to show how much she cared."
Lorenzo immediately stood up, standing in front of his mother in a protective manner, "Genevieve, put that away."
"Listen to him, Genevieve," Loraine ordered, sinking in her seat slightly, holding the towel tighter. "Just sit down and let's talk about this."
"Why?" The brunette asked, solemnly. "So you can feed me more of your lies?"
Genevieve flailed her arms around spotlighting her surroundings. "You want the house? Fine. Take it." She lifted her finger accusingly, "But if you think we're going to be one big, happy family living here. Then I have news for you."
Lifting her hand, Genevieve began shooting various different objects—shooting the chandelier, "I will never," shooting a champagne bottle, "ever," shooting a glass door that led to a small patio, "live under the same roof as you again."
"Genevieve—"
"What, mother," Genevieve sneered, "should I even call you that, maybe 'auntie' would be better right?"
Francesca dropped her mouth open, involuntarily she moved towards the brunette, delicately cupping her cheek. "Giuliana?"
"The one and only," spat the brunette, her eyes not leaving the irritated blonde's.
Loraine raised her hand, "I think we should calm—"
Genevieve cut her off with a maniacal laugh, temporarily scaring everyone around her; even Elias couldn't help but gaze at her confused. "Why? You're scared that more secrets are going to be revealed? Actually, let's make this more interesting, shall we?" Turning around Genevieve pulled in Elias' arm bringing him next to her, looking at her mother again, she reintroduced him.
"This is Elias Maverick, police officer, FBI agent and detective. He's in charge of Davis' death, explain that mommy?" Genevieve said, smirking.
"I —well, I—" stuttered Loraine, picking softly on the collar of her turtleneck jumpsuit; an action that she'd accustomed to do when conflicted.
The brunette clasped her hands, her lips tilting in a maniacal grin, "Actually let's make this even more interesting!" Clutching Elias' arm, she lit him in front of Francesca, pointing at her, "That's your grandmother, Giovanni!"
Elias and Francesca gawked at each other, realization dawning onto them—their similar eye color, face shape, personality related in many ways. The mature and serious attitude when in a situation; they seemed more alike than they ever realized.
"There!" Genevieve yelled, throwing her hands in the air. "Happily, ever after! The fairytale is finished, now if you excuse me," She pushed past, gripping the front of her gown to her chest as she made her way aboard.
"Gen—"
Genevieve glared at Loraine, though tears brimmed her eyes to see the woman that destroyed her life and misshaped it.
"I hate you."
______