Chapter 30

Marco "Marco. I wasn't expecting you so soon. You couldn't wait 'till later?" I kiss my sister on her cheek. Grinning as I stand in the foyer of the white Victorian-style home. It's a suburban housewife dream. And a sick joke of my sisters. Anya picked it out because it was identical to most of the homes secured behind this gated community. "I know you weren't going. I was shocked; you even made an appearance at the funeral. Did you manage to shed a tear or two?" "Very funny, I loved Ren, in my own way." I ignore her glaring gaze, but I can't ignore the bright yellow dress she is wearing. "We all did," I correct her, "What the fuck are you wearing?" "What the fuck are you doing at my house?" She questions me back, already knowing the answer. I roll my eyes, "I'm not going to the reception, where's Mischa?" Anya's eyes remind me of my father when her face gets pinched, but the rest is just like my mother. I'm the only one of us that got my mother's eyes. "Looking for a yellow dress, we were going to play dollhouse." She answers with a sneer. I smile but say nothing when her eyes arch as if to say 'Comment, and I will slap you,' "Is Deno going to do your duties again?" "Yes, Leonardo and Deno would be just fine on their own." "Leonardo will be drunk before he even gets to the house, and dad will keep a wide birth as usual. Deno will probably spend his time warding off wandering hands. Yeah, I think you right." Her sarcasm is warranted but still not wanted. "Papa." A small voice comes from upstairs, and I step inside, my smile wide. Finally. My sister rolls her eyes and gives me some way as I hear those little feet hit the staircase. "Wow, you get bigger every day," I say as she runs and hugs my waist. I lift her up, as a whiff of her watermelon scented black hair envelops my senses. Big black marble eyes and cute dimples smile at me. "Papa." She places her small hands on my cheeks and gives me a wet kiss. My heart squeezes with so much love for her, it physically pains. She looks so much like her mother. No one can question our relation with her black eyes, the one thing she has of mine. "Aunt Anya and I make ice-cream." Her big eyes and pale skin remind me of her mother. Her toothless smile is so innocent, carefree. How could someone want to hurt her? How can I allow anyone to harm her? How do I not protect her? My sweet Mischa. From the first day I walked into that hospital with Deno and lifted her up, she became mine. Deno and I swore an oath to protect her, no matter the cost. "Made ice-cream Mischa. You want to do something with Papa?" Anya asks as Mischa rests her cheek on my shoulder. Her head lifts up, and her face transforms into a toothless smile, "Movies, toy shop, and ice-cream, chippies, picnic and, and ice-cream." Her face scrunches up as she thinks of what else. I pinch her small nose. "You can decide on your way, go put your shoes on and bring a jacket; maybe we can do ice-cream first." I put her down and watch her rush up the stairs. Her legs are so long. She got little calves now. Kids grow up so fast. I don't like her staying here, but Anya is the only one besides Deno and myself who could keep her safe and happy at the same time. Mischa isn't an easy kid, and I like it that way. I raised her to be shy and not talk to strangers. I, rather, she turns out to be a stuck-up princess and safe than a dead one. "Any word about Lucca?" "No, Amariya is hunting them down. She'll find him eventually." I don't mention anything about her 'extramural' activities, or the fact Amariya is missing again. My sister is a Catelli too, dangerous and deadly, I have done well to remember that growing up. I know she's up to something, and I'm going to find out what it is before I react. "Gabriel came by earlier to see Mischa. He isn't taking Lorenzo's death well. You need to keep your eye on him, he is our family." My sister, ever the wise one. My father has one soft spot, and it belonged to his only daughter. My virgin, 26- year-old sister, never married, but piss her off, and she'll kill you with a nail file in seconds. She lives her life as she wants to, in the shadows. There was once a guy I thought she'll choose until she met another. Tragedy always ends a fairytale when a Villain is a leading role. "Lorenzo's death is going to cause ripples in the Famiglia until we find out who wanted him dead," I warn Anya. "If my suspicions are correct, I believe Ren's biker girlfriend would know the answer to that." "Leave her alone, Anya. She's under my protection." "I suppose someone is going to be getting married in the next few months now," She says, ignoring my warning. "Probably." I hope for my sister's sake it isn't her. "Salvatore Moretti is coming from New York as we speak. He is going to keep close tabs on the young ones; they all want revenge." You included little sister, but I know you will find your way to get it. Her face is blank, which is not something unusual when it comes to Anya. "I'll see you when you get back. You can stay for Dinner. I'll call Deno and Leonardo, see if they want to join. Xander will be stopping by." "Sound's like a plan. I'll fetch Mischa this weekend, you should come with us to the Manor." "Of course, I'm coming. I think I'm getting suburban lice. How far do you live from Aliyana's house?" "20 minutes, why?" "She invited me over for a few days, I said yes." This is new to me, Aliyana didn't mention anything, but why would she? "She keeps wolves for pets," I tell my sister as I kiss her cheeks. "I know." She winks, and as I usually do in my sister's company, I laugh. Mischa rushes down the white-tiled staircase. Her eyes as black as her mothers' and my own - A trait only one bloodline in the Catelli Famiglia has. Her black curly hair and naughty dimpled smile, including her wolf nose, is the epitome of her father, Lucca. There's no denying who her parents are. No denying the venomous bloodline running through her veins and the enemies she'd inherit because of it. One thing is certain- there is goodness in her. Her father was once a good man, I know, because not too long ago we were friends. Katrina was the poison that slipped into his mind. She turned him evil. All for pussy. Deno's words play in my head as I smile at the last goodness of my friend, Lucca, and the product of my cousin's Amariya's torture, Mia figlia. My daughter I smile wider, the closer she gets to me. Her little legs tiny but steady, and I open my arms, bend my knees as she reaches the last two steps. She is the only reason keeping me from killing everybody in the 5th State. Reining war is what I should do to all the fuckers who stood by and watched what my brother went through, by the hands of my Grandfather . My father included. My only wish now is, she'd be rushing down the stairs of my Manor all the time like the princess she ought to be. Not in secret locations in fuckin' suburbs. One day soon. The few hours I spend with Mischa go by fast. Most of our time is spent at the toy shop. One thing she learned from my sister is how to shop. I get back to Anya's place after 6. The two cars in the front, tell me I am just in time. My soldiers who kept an eye on us while we were gone remain at the back of my car. "Uncle Deno and Leo are here, Papa," Mischa beams as she opens her own door and runs toward the house as I take a minute to collect myself. It is always hard for me to let her leave and harder when I know she isn't going to see me for another few days. We have no option but to rotate her. Deno, Anya, and I switched her every few months. Deno, however, kept Mischa the most since he had more time. It made it easier for me to see her since we lived together. Anya kept Mischa when she could. My sister owned a boutique and a few spa's, which she micromanaged. She was constantly busy, but her businesses made her time worth it. I acknowledge the soldiers on the left of the house as I jump out of my car, signaling them to get the stuff from the boot. We spend the evening with my sister as Xander entertains us with stories of his years in Liston Hills. None of us gets emotional when we talk about Lorenzo. We have all mourned him in our own way this week. My siblings would miss him more than me. I never really got to know my brother as well as I should have. I loved him, and he will be missed, but I'm not crippled by his permanent leave. Leonardo stays behind when Deno and I make our excuse to leave. After tucking Mischa in for the evening, I say my goodbyes to my sister. Xander gets a phone call and leaves straight away. I follow Deno on the freeway as we head over to our father's home. We take the roads steady, no rush. Both of us dreading the meeting in more ways than we will admit. Camilla Moretti pops into my head. Unlike my first meeting with the young Aliyana, I've known Camilla since I was a boy, we were raised in DC together. My father's greed for power then still fresh. His love for my mother, a genuine feeling. Then shit happened, and Camilla's Grandfather took her away and moved to New York first. Her parents died soon after, they were murdered brutally. It was a message that even I at 11 understood the meaning of. Her Grandfather gave up his place as Capo Dei Capi, and took his entire army of soldiers and businesses and fled to London. My father moved us here, to Seattle in the very house my mother died six months later. Camilla was a spoilt brat then, who didn't know the difference between ankles and elbows. A feisty little creature that went from free beast to a guarded Princess. I liked her a lot. But she left, and her Grandfather kept her hidden. Not many knew what she looked like or who she was. He changed her name, and with all my attempts to find her, I couldn't. Eventually, I forgot about her until recently. My quest to find a suitable wife for not just my sake but a mother for Mischa is the reason I remembered the feisty girl that kissed me under the dinner table. She was the perfect option. Camilla would be a wife who didn't offer me just a warm body but someone who could give me a strong army. But, her Grandfather has been stalling. I asked for her hand 6 months ago. In a way, I'm glad, because I would have never tasted Aliyana Capello's lips, or heard her sigh as her breath tickled my cheeks if Dante Moretti agreed to my marriage. The man in me wants Aliyana, there's something in her eyes, something I know too well. Whatever it is, it will soon belong to me. I should feel guilt, knowing my brother lies dead in a grave, and all he asked was for me to let her go. But I can't summon up any right now. I never believed in honoring a dead man's wish. The black gates open as the 6 soldiers in the front greet us. Green hedges and palm trees pave our way. Bright fluorescent lamps running down the driveway gives us a proper grand entrance. I never understood the need to have so much luxury afforded to one person, all because of a title. My father, however, doesn't share my perplexion. One of these days, my brother will take over. Even this house will belong to him. How will my father feel when he finds out my brother plans to turn our home into a Gentlemen's bar? I would pay good money to know the answer to that. I park my car next to Deno's black Audi as the butler comes toward us. "Hello, Sir Marco, Sir Deno. Your father is waiting upstairs in the main office." The butler, Cedric bows and walks away. Deno looks at me to say, 'what the fuck is he still doing working here' and I just shrug as I tie the buttons of my suit jacket. The man was given many chances to leave, why he chooses to stay is beyond my understanding. Loyalty can sometimes be your worst enemy, it traps you in the worse of places. I spot Natasha's paintings as we enter the foyer. The gold and brown furniture, reminding us of our mother. How does Natasha do it? She doesn't have a choice, that's how. When your choice is gone, you learn to adapt just so you can breathe one more day. I learned that in the army, we were 3 months in Iraq, my second tour. We were ambushed. 'Sir, get out of here.' The cries of my men, the gunshots. So many innocent lives lost. Heat exploding in my torso as a bullet hits straight in my sternum, taking me to my knees. 'Get out of here, run' useless, it's all useless. "Marco." Deno shakes me out of my trance, standing by the stairway. I rub the area where I still feel the remnant of that fucked up day that almost cost me my life. I wish I was fucking killed. "I'm fine." "Let's get this shit out of the way, this house gives me the fucking creeps." Deno takes the stairs as I follow behind him. This night is just getting started.