Ciao Bella

Chapter Two

“Family dinners are kind of like war, blood will always be spilled, and the spoils will always go to the victors.” —King Campisi

Ivan

Bella and I had just finished bleeding on the table, eating our meal, and everyone was already getting their assignments and going their separate ways so why was I the one person who was getting lectured less than twenty-four hours before I had to start senior year? I had shit to do, but if I showed my temper even more than I already had, I’d get sent downstairs.

And you did not want to meet anyone in that boxing ring, women included, hell, even the dog with the missing eye petrified me, and he was adopted from the pound, though it was disconcerting how many milk cow bones it looked like he was eating. I brought it up once.

And all I heard was silence and slicing through meat as knives scratched against porcelain plates.

Everything was tense until two years ago when the Five Families gave the De Lange Family—hi, that’s me, orphan spawn of them—a treaty and money to rebuild what had been taken from them. Junior De Lange was the acting boss, but in one week they would vote to either stay as part of the Five Families officially, branch off, or betray everyone again. Junior had rebuilt them from the ground up and also put the fear of God in them by way of blood accidentally getting spilled, but he was good for the job—a job I would rather be buried alive than have.

So, to say things were extremely tense during family dinner when the parents and second gen bosses were present… well, to be a fly on the wall would honestly be the most interesting thing if you could avoid getting murdered by one of the many people sitting around eating and staring at their plates like the world could potentially burn down.

I cleared my throat and chose the calmest voice I could muster in response to the previous argument with Phoenix, technically my closest relative in the group and the boss of the Nicolasi Family. “For the last time, since I wasn’t making myself clear, no I do not want to major in philosophy because it’s too hard, I want to major in Poli Sci, come out the other end not wanting to kill myself for thinking so many thoughts and I want to follow in the Families’ footsteps!” Shit, I’m yelling at Phoenix Nicolasi, I heard a guy once got his finger cut off for raising his eyebrows. Should I be petrified?

Absolutely. Shit, he’s going to feed me to Serena’s toddler Bam-Bam (His nickname for reasons I’m sure everyone thought but never said out loud). As if on cue, Bam-Bam half-walked half-crawled up to me and sat. Had he been wearing a kerchief, glasses, and a bow tie around his scraggly neck while holding a knife in each hand, I don’t think I would have even blinked. The bosses started moving away from me. Ash, the Abandonato boss, suddenly found something interesting on the floor to stare at, Junior was staring at his dad as if to say, don’t kill him. And don’t even get me started on King; not a good sign when even he gulps down some wine and pours more.

Terrifying, to be correct.

I sighed. “Listen, Phoenix, I get that you feel a certain responsibility toward me because you and Chase killed my parents—” I held up my hands while Ash cursed under his breath.

“And here we go again…” Ash handed Junior a twenty. What the hell?

Serena walked into the living room and sighed, then scooted Bam-Bam’s chair closer to the table and to me before putting him in his seat. Great. “Is he arguing again?”

“Yes,” they all said in unison, Phoenix included.

He was only supposed to sit down with me after dinner, go over the dos and don’ts of my final year of school and then go over my training schedule while the guys made me into an assassin, see? Normal discussions with your adopted parent.

I lived with Phoenix and Bee, they took me in and protected me years ago, but that did not, however, make them my parents.

My dad was a horrible human being that deserved to be stabbed all those times in the back for what he did to my mom, to my little sister, to my dog—he even killed my pet fish, so there was no sentiment there.

But the whole concept that the same Family I swore my fealty to was actually in charge of killing half of my relatives kind of made me want to throw up—because we’d still had some good people left, and now they were cleansed, gone. I got that my relatives were part of the cursed line, as Ash so eloquently put it, but things were different now.

Things were calm.

We had a new Capo.

I had friends.

Serena even bought me a fish and named it blue. I was one of the youngest De Lange’s still left, but I’d done a damn good job fighting for the Five Families, so why couldn’t I at least choose what I majored in?

I even stopped hiding under the kitchen table when I heard loud noises—bad habit from when my mom and dad would fight—they liked to throw things—the point was—I could handle it now. I was twenty-one and after taking a gap year and going to Italy to attempt to find myself and also learn how to… possibly, become an assassin like the other guys, I did find myself.

It was called staring at your reflection via your shiny dagger, and it was perfection. I also found several girls who agreed with that sentiment, over and over and over—you get the picture.

Phoenix sighed and hung his head. He looked like he was just cast on the show Vikings with his shaved sides and long brown hair braided back. It took one minute for his wife Bee to see him in a Halloween costume as a Viking and it was all over, he’ll never do his hair different again; I heard blood was shed, but that’s not just typical for Viking mentality but for the Family.

“Why?” Phoenix rubbed down his face with both hands and pulled the tie from his neck and opened up his black button-down shirt. “Why do kids never listen?”

“He’s not a kid,” Junior piped up. “You’re just losing your edge and getting protective.”

Phoenix’s head snapped toward his son. “Care to repeat that?”

“Nope.” Junior took a step back. “All I’m saying is, the only reason you want him to major in Philosophy is because in your head it’s safe, but guess what? Nobody is safe, we’re never safe, I mean dipshit over there”—he pointed at Ash—“ran into a wall because he was watching a TikTok!”

“You promised!” Ash yelled.

Junior snorted. “Oh please, you were watching the Barbie dance again and wondering how Ken got so tan when he’s not even Italian.”

“Is there any other option anymore other than getting sent under the bus by a cousin, peer, parent?” Serena sighed.

“To the mattresses,” Ash added.

“My. God.” Phoenix kicked the couch, then adjusted it since he knew his wife would most likely notice and ask why he was using his anger, not his words. They were a riot. “Is it so bad that I want to keep you safe, Ivan?”

I winced. “I’m safe, consider me completely safe, I mean, have you looked around you?” I pointed to the living room full of bosses and assassins. “Between the OG mafia bosses—” I grimaced when Chase walked in and narrowed his eyes at me. “No offense.”

“All of it is taken, but continue,” Phoenix said.

I smiled. “And the new bosses, all your sons, might I add—Junior put your hand down we know he’s your dad.”

Junior winked at me. “Just trying to make it more awkward.”

“Literally all he does,” Ash said under his breath, earning a swift kick in the ass from Junior’s boot and a take down from behind compliments of Serena.

Chase shook his head and walked right back out of the living room. “Children.”

“All I’m saying…” I ignored the brawl taking place next to me and saved the crystal vase, lifting it into the air before the table went flying. ”…is that, you’ve trained me well, and I have several friends plus at least three of our guys actually work at Eagle Elite, so no, I don’t need to take philosophy so that I’m in the safe non-business classes and no it’s not going to convince me to take my own path. I’m in it, blood in no out, you could send me to knitting—”

“—Don’t hate on knitting,” King said under his breath. “It’s a very soothing process.”

“Anyway…” I ignored him. “Even if I took the wonderfully soothing process of a knitting class.”

King gave me what felt like a very sarcastic thumbs up that also somehow managed to communicate that I was seconds away from getting punched.

“I would still be part of this Family and part of this world, so could you just give me a break, let me enroll in my own classes, run my own life and stop shoving your business up my ass?”

“Oh shit,” Junior said before pulling away from Ash. “I’m just going to be outside… the house, touching grass.”

“I need grass,” Ash added.

“Not that kind of grass, dumbass.” Junior grunted.

Serena was the last to leave, taking Bam-Bam with her.

I thought my argument would maybe be over.

I thought everything would be fine.

And then footsteps sounded. Bella had cleaned up the blood and put on a pair of low-slung black sweats and a matching tight black tank top. Was she even wearing a bra? Did she want to die so young? Good, my nemesis was going to get a free show.

She jerked her head toward the kitchen as if to remind me of the Ivan-Bella Rules taped to the fridge and gave me a pointed look.

As a joke, not funny by the way, Chase made them into metal signs for everyone so they could keep them in their houses as a reminder that misbehaving earns punishment.

The first one rule was established after the Kitchen incident—lots of ice cream, a tragically broken freezer and a knife: Always stay three feet apart.

Do not bring weapons to family dinner or picnics.

Never play Hungry Hippo. You would think that one would be self-explanatory, but people always asked why.

Use only kind words, no expletives when addressing one another—this was a really hard one for both of us, so we ended up developing our own language after watching Friends in an attempt to see what the fuss was all about. I sided with Joey, I really did. Anyway, if I gave her a thumbs up it meant F you, if I gave her a thumbs down, it meant, eat shit and die, and any time either of us gave the double thumb up or down it basically meant, we were probably both packing and in genuine need to brawl. Thumbs up was let’s go fight, thumbs down was if you approach me I’ll end you.

I didn’t mind the double thumbs up because it meant I faced her in the ring and I really didn’t mind the double thumbs down because it meant we were going to compete at something to get all the anger out, victor took all. Between archery, axe throwing, swimming, and her genius idea of a barre workout, we were able to at least get some of the aggression out of our systems in a semi-healthy way, while still insulting and competing against each other.

Over the years, they’ve made new signs, added in more and more rules. Not excluding us, just literally avoiding eye contact.

We provoked each other in the worst way; she grew up a mafia princess with a spoiled little attitude and still thinks she’s a badass because her dad trained her and I grew up the pauper nobody that had to be taken in because her dad was the great Nixon Abandonato, her uncle was Senator Chase Abandonato—she was untouchable, and she was the reason for the pain I lived in.

Her.

She also would randomly wear polka dots, then walk by me and ask if I was dizzy—so she purposefully dressed to piss me off. No girl that hot should be that cruel. And the worst part? She was the youngest, so she constantly got away with it.

She could sneeze out a fart then commit murder, say sorry and people would say, “Aw, baby girl, did you have a hard day? Should I wipe your ass for you?”

I gritted my teeth and looked away.

“You guys already drew blood today. Remember the rules.” Phoenix stated in that bored tone that meant I wasn’t allowed to argue, let alone fail at anything in life. He stared down at his folded hands and wrung them together, it wasn’t something I could say I noticed a lot, but when he was really stressed and trying to keep it in or keep the violence in, he did that.

I would never admit it out loud, but I hated knowing it was my fault and in moments like that, I really did want to reach out and say sorry, but all that ended up coming out was sarcasm.

A few seconds beat by. “They’re tattooed on my soul.” I grunted out. “The rules, that is.”

In typical Bella fashion, she honest to God twirled into the room like the picture of innocence, her long dark hair fell near to her waist like she was channeling Rapunzel and her bright green eyes roamed across every piece of furniture only to glaze past me and land on Phoenix. “Shocked, he still has one, am I right?”

“Bella.” His tone got even lower; I didn’t think it was actually possible.

She marched right up to him and reached out. Her touch was gentle, her fingers grasped his arm, then his hand. You’ve got to be shitting me. “Did you need me for something?”

Could she suck up any more? What the ever-loving FBI or CIA secret shit was she on?

Phoenix melted on the spot, his eyes softened, even his body seemed to relax, as his jaw unclenched. He honestly didn’t look happy about her little trick but still managed to pull her in for a hug, his lips brushed the top of her head in a swift kiss. I rolled my eyes. “Disgusting.”

Bella turned and looked over her shoulder, flipping her hair dangerously close to my person. “It’s called affection, but you wouldn’t know that if I spelled it out for you and tattooed it on that missing soul of yours a million times, do you even know how to hold someone’s hand? It’s like you’re allergic to touch, and feelings, and anything remotely fun! It wouldn’t kill you to smile without murder on your mind.”

“I’m fun!” I argued.

“Rule number seven,” Phoenix barked.

“Fine,” we said in unison.

I crossed my arms, probably more aggressive than needed.

She crossed hers, mimicking me to perfection as she always did.

And Phoenix just stared between the two of us. “You’ll both be attending school starting tomorrow. Look out for one another… I’m adding a new rule to the millions of rules you have between each other. Family sticks together. If someone as much as blinks at Bella, you warn them away, if she gets attacked you kill them no questions asked and Bella, if anyone bullies him or says anything about his family line, you kick them in the balls, you both have your strengths in combat and in what I can only say is manipulation to the extreme. Family is blood, now give me your hands and give me your vows.”

“Does that mean I can major in—” I stopped talking. Phoenix wasn’t playing any games. Instead, I walked over and gave him my hand.

Bella gave him hers.

Phoenix grabbed the dagger from his back pocket and, without any warning, slid it across Bella’s palm.

She didn’t even flinch.

Two could play that game.

I swear my cut was deeper. As intense burning pain made itself known and blood started running down my wrist. I watched as it slid down my forearm. Phoenix grabbed both of our hands and pressed our palms together, aggressive even for him. “Be nice. Get along. Don’t kill each other. You aren’t the enemies; the people out there are.”

It was abrupt, the drop of our hands like he was washing his own clean. He walked between us, stepping in droplets of blood, and muttered over his shoulder. “Clean up your mess.”

It was a double meaning; we both knew that.

Clean up the blood.

And clean up the brokenness and hatred between us, but some things were easier said than done, some scars you purposefully keep fresh because what the hell would happen if they healed?

“Yeah, Ivan, clean up the mess,” Bella said, mentally slapping me out of my own morose thoughts and insecurities, it was her gift, and it made the anger even stronger, the hatred that I could never fully grasp. I knew I felt it, and I directed it at her, but I never truly knew why it bothered me so much which bothered me more, because then I wondered if there was something innately wrong with me, my bloodline, my personality, and then the thoughts went to…

You’re. Just. Like. Them. The De Langes, and one day, you’ll prove it right and the castle will crumble beneath your feet, leaving nothing but dust.

Phoenix stopped at the door. “Bella, rule number fourteen.”

“No provoking Ivan,” she said under her breath.

Looking over his shoulder, Phoenix said, “Get along or I’ll have both your heads, and Bella I don’t care that Nixon’s my best friend, he’d encourage it, you’ve been spoiled way too long. It’s time to grow the hell up.”

With that, he left the living room. The silence was deafening. We’d pushed him too far—we’d pushed all of them too far, and for what? Rage built up in my soul when I stared down at the drops of blood on the carpet, I had only one choice in order to tamper it down, the abandonment and the very real feel of blood being on my own hands and never being enough no matter what I did, not having a life despite lives being taken from me, no identity outside of what I was born into. I blamed her. I looked at her and thought to myself that somehow it was her fault, her Family’s fault, and I clung to it, because looking inside was too hard. I flashed her a smirk. “Think OxiClean will do it or not?” I stepped on it and smushed it into the carpet. “Maybe you should hurry up and get on your hands and knees? Should be pretty natural for you, though I am curious… do you close your eyes or keep them open?”

“I loathe you.” She grabbed the rag and rubbed it further into the carpet with her tall black boot, refusing to get on her knees like I knew she would.

I instantly snapped and grabbed her by the thigh, digging my fingers into her leg and flipped her onto her back, pinning her to the carpet and against the blood, good, let it mix with her perfection. “I think you have a new stain on your shirt now, little girl.”

She tried kneeing me in the balls and flipping me over.

Footsteps sounded. “Son of a bitch, rule sixteen!” Nixon yelled.

“Sorry daddy.” She tried to roll out from underneath me.

“I’ll be your daddy.” I leaned down and whispered in her ear, just to piss her off.

It wasn’t long, maybe five seconds, before cold water was dumped on both of us.

Shit!

Bella’s scream was almost worth it.

I scrambled back, Nixon tossed the bucket on the ground. “Play nice.”

And then he was gone.