After church, the Russo's followed us to our car like lost puppies. I had forgotten that I would have to attend a luncheon with them. Isabella deliberately brushed past me and my mother muttered a curse as I opened the car door for her. I chuckled giving her a look of disbelief. Striding towards my car I texted Zara that I'll be a little late.
Isabella fucking tried to get in the car with me. Perhaps it was God that stopped me from running over her. As her father, came whispering something in her ear. Isabella gave him a curt nod, she swallowed thickly craning her neck up so I could see her throat working, and moved out of my way. Fucking bitch thinks if she will blink her eyes rapidly I will take her as a strong girl biting back her tears of hurt.
10 minutes later, around the same time, we all arrived at the Da Vittorio. Our ancestral hotel, and my father's pride and joy. The chefs here know how to use their knife, whether for a chicken's neck or a man's. There were rumors about them being real-life Hannibal. A shudder runs through me every time I think of eating something that does not belong to a plant or an animal.
Mom's hand was cold when It held it ushering her with me to the restaurant. It was alarmingly empty on a Sunday, the motherfucker must have reserved it. This extravagant gesture and Russo's nauseating presence is making me jittery. But I can't afford to show my nervousness here of all places, where every single employee is my father's bitch.
Papa was already seated in his chair like a fucking king. We were served the food just as we were seated. The food papa had selected for us without asking. His brow arched at me in a challenge to contend with him like a pseudo-feminist about ordering my own food. I couldn't give two fucks. Even if I get served a human to the tongue, I would have to swallow it like a whore.
"Shrimp Fra Diavolo. My favorite." Chirped Isabella kissing my father's ass, her family bobbed their head like they couldn't agree more. Father nodded approvingly. He likes the spicy sauce to the tongue burning point. But mom has become wary of too much spicy food since her tonsillectomy two months ago. It is a test. If I pass out with flying colors, he'll find another excuse to belittle and if I don't, he'll be happy, satisfied that I'm becoming more like him every day. Mom quickly held the spoon and ate washing it with a glass of water, leaving no room for me to argue with my father.
"Gian, it's time you get married. We'll announce your marriage to Isabella next Friday." Father ordered as the don to his inferior, out of no fucking where. I carefully swallowed the food that now tasted like cardboard in my mouth.
"Forgive me, Don. But I don't want to marry a woman who can recognize any man by the size of their dick. I respect our tradition, even the bloody sheets. Which will be broken after my marriage to Miss Russo here. So, I would rather enjoy my bachelorhood for now." I spoke to him in a low careful manner, like an inferior to his master. Because if I had spoken it in any other manner I would have been dead.
Don dropped this fork with a clink the sound resonated in the banquet, his nose flared with anger. Mamma's softly gasped, Mrs. Russo's face showed real terror, as she gripped her spoon tightly.
"All the noblewomen with strong ties to famiglia have already been promised." Father said, blatantly putting his approving stamp on Isabella's character. It's my father's own fault that I'm still single. He had been waiting on tying me with a girl whose father could have become the governor if he hadn't died of a heart attack. I seriously would have considered Isabella as my wife, if she had a little taste in men, no matter how many. But now with Zara in my life. Giving a chance to Isabella to stop her whoring ways with her father's business partners to her bodyguards has been wiped out.
"Then make sure one of us wins the next election. I will wait." I said raiding my glass, gulping down the whole content. A muscle in my father's jaw ticked in anger.
"They might not be Italian." he said calmly, a threat undermining in his tone, to what I had meant by suggesting this blasphemy of marrying a non-Italian.
"Then we must ask Bianchi to join politics. He has a better chance of winning. Everybody loves him. Either way, I will wait. I don't want another conspiring woman to force me into giving her bastard the Armani name." I say leveling my gaze with the Russo's. "The child must be my offspring. Hundred percent my DNA, not some distant blood relative." I added further, looking nowhere in particular. If my father is conspiring to make my brother my son, then he must know that I'm not having it.
Russo chuckled humorously. "Very well, Gian." I raise my brow in dare, but he continued "A woman out of the famiglia wouldn't be able to understand our... rules. Isabella has been bred like mafia royalty. She is capable of becoming an ideal wife-"
"Yet, she forgot one rule." My father growled, Isabella gasped, becoming teary-eyed all of a sudden. She might have mistaken that she has my father wrapped around her finger because of her sexual prowess. My father's loyal to no one but himself.
"Send her to London, Giovanni. See, if they would like to have her. If not..." his eyes bored into Isabella, her heavily painted red lips parted in fear. "You will be married to one of our enforcers." He grunted, dabbing his mouth with the napkin. All the color drained of Isabella's face, a small whimper escaped from her mouth watching my father as a lover who had betrayed her. My hands balled into a tight fist, sure my mother didn't care who my father fucked. But this drama unfolding in front of her disrespectful.
Marrying an enforcer is not at all a bad deal. They collect money from the high collared assholes, who are due. They receive a hefty percentage of the recovered money. But they are not like The Bianchi family, whose job is to rub arms with the men who are pure in the eyes of the innocent world. Enforcers usually don't attend the parties Isabella craves. As the daughter of Cosa Nostra's consigliere, she deserves an underboss or capo. Not an enforcer again.
But now, She will do anything to seduce whoever English prick he is talking about. Father waved his fingertips, dismissing them. Russo's family scurried off like pussies. Giovanni had never been fit to become a consigliere. But he was my father's favorite lap dog since they were kids.
I was watching the Russo's retreating back with a ghost smile on my face when my face was roughly banged forward toward the table.
The handmade Italian plate cracked under the right profile of my face. Only the slight sound of the ceramic cracking and my father's nose flaring like a bull could be heard. Another crack sounded as he tried to dig my face deeper into the plate with his rough fingers clawing over my face. I was not happy when I received this dinnerware along with my shipment of guns. And my anger had ten folded when my father was more worried about these handmade fuckery than the arsenals. But this is a solid motherfucker, bearing the impact.
The man hurting me has never been a father to me but right now. I am getting punished by my boss. Don brought his face closer to me. The weight on the plate slightly tilted, the spicy gravy slid inside my right eye, burning it painfully. The heavy silver fork pointing upwards now was a mere inches away.
"You will marry whoever the fuck I want, put the ring in her finger whenever I ask you to." his spit splattered across my face as he howled, his face had turned a deep red in fury. "You think you are invincible because I don't have another heir." he tried to dig my face deeper with his claws. I didn't move an inch, my hands remained folded over my lap. One single sign of mutiny from me and his entire staff will fire first and ask questions later. There is no prudence in giving up my life for this and obviously my mother's, who has to just stand there as a silent spectator.
"That was your plan, wasn't it. Made my wife a barren so you could remain the only heir." He cackled, turning to look at my mother.
Figlio di puttana! How dare he.!
"And you thought he loved his mamma, you idiot.!" His anger shifted toward my mother. I heard a low mewl coming from her mouth so I wriggled under his hand. So he would focus on me again.
"One mistake, Gian. And I will happily die without any heir. The Famiglia has more competent men than you. The blood running into your veins doesn't ensure your safety from me. I will kill you with my bare hands and end the Armani legacy myself." He snarled, but his voice shook, just like his shaky grip on my face. He has always been weak.
With one final shove to me, he pushed away, my mother followed him without sparing me a second glance. Despite the pain burning my eyes. I was only thinking of going to Zara as soon as possible and obviously cook some plausible excuse for the mess he had made of my face.
Wiping the sauce off my face with a napkin, I thundered out of the restaurant. The valet, along with several other staff members stared at me with an amused expression. I roughly snatched the keys from the valet. When I noticed the smirk on his face, I bashed his skull on the roof of my car. The alarm of my car blared loudly from the impact.
"Mr. Armani.!!!" One of the guards behind me warned me sternly with a hint of authority he didn't deserve to have. I whirled around and disarmed him. Pushing the barrel of his gun on his temple I snarl. "If any you think that you can earn some brownie points by thrusting yourself into the small family dispute. I dare you to go ahead. My boss will happily punish you." I say haughtily. Throwing his gun on the floor.
Kicking the man holding his head, mewling like an injured dog I climbed inside the car and floored the gas pedal. With a hope to soothe my bruised ego and fucked up face feeling reverberations of the car against my body. I passed the San Diego River, watching the water shine like diamonds were floating on the surface. A lot of violent ideas penetrated my thoughts, thinking of ways I could make good use of the river for my sinister plans against my father.
*****
Frustrated and furious, I drove aimlessly. To bind me from channeling my anger towards someone who didn't deserve it, today. I pulled over the side of an empty road. Taking deep breaths, I raked my fingers over my hair. Going out of the car I washed my face completely.
Father has made his grave by humiliating me like this. He has to be more fucking careful from now on. Just like every son in the famiglia, I didn't exactly love and respect my father either. We all do it for the show. To prove that killing your father won't make you eligible for taking his place, you have to work for it, earn it.
And I have done everything I had been fucking asked to. Expect for marriage. This deal would have also been done, If Elena hadn't fucked her bodyguard. But thankfully she did and now I can have a fair chance to be with Zara.
Fuck.! I kicked the pebbles spattered on the ground. And changed into the only clothes I had left in my trunk and sped off to Zara's house. Her name rolling off my tongue already did the deed to calm my raging thoughts, whirling like a tornado better than the car ride that has taken me an hour's drive away from my destination.
*****
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I would love it if you check out my other stories, 'Aurora's Aura' 'Married To Become Mr. & Mrs. Billionaire' 'Becoming Romeo' & ''his Captive'. The story link is on my profile