Chapter 7 #2
“Ultimatums aren’t a good strategy. I’ll go to the airport and leave your daughter behind. You can explain why her new family couldn’t bother to keep anyone here. Remind her she’s chattel. I’m certain she’ll appreciate it.”
“You piece of shit.”
I put the glass on the coffee table and stand.
“I won’t stink up your office then. We’ll let you know when it’s convenient for you to arrive. Don’t make your daughter late to her own wedding.”
I’m prepared to walk out on Gio just like I did Stella, except I don’t feel guilty today. I’m being a bastard talking about her like she means nothing, but my family doesn’t need me to be sentimental and accommodating. They need me to ensure we remain on top.
“Wait.”
I take my hand off the doorknob and turn toward him. My smug expression makes him glower, but I don’t care.
“Elena and Stella can go to Boston with you. Stella can get to know her way around the city and get her things settled in her new home. She’ll be ready to move in as soon as Mano returns.
There’ll be no delays since she’ll already be there with everything she needs.
I’ll join them as soon as I know Mano’s in the air and on his way back.
I’ll bring Edoardo and my other daughters. ”
Those two bitches. If this were a fairytale, Stella’d be Cinderella, and Aria and Gia would be the ugly stepsisters.
Gia—Giacomina—the oldest child and named after her father—and Aria are both unmarried and older than Stella.
No one in my family considered them as potential brides.
Their sense of entitlement is large enough to fill the fucking Colosseum.
Either of them would bleed us dry in six months.
Their father keeps them mostly under control, but both of them are too demanding to become la madrina.
They’d expect every resource to be at their disposal, claiming they did us a favor by marrying into our family.
Neither will ever serve their community as the don’s wife should.
I don’t know what Stella’s relationship with them is like, but moving to Boston might be the one saving grace to this arrangement.
“Papa?”
Damnit. I’d hoped to leave before Stella came over.
She knocks on the door before she inches it open. I step away, so she can see inside. Our gazes meet, and a Nor’easter’s blowing in. Pure ice in her eyes, and a bone chilling air about her. With my back to Gio, I smirk and waggle my eyebrows.
I am a stronzo.
I shouldn’t torment her. But she knocks me off balance every time I see her. It’s childish, but I want to do the same in return. It keeps me from feeling out of control of the situation. Not having control—like at the pub—usually results in a near death experience. I find it off-putting.
“I didn’t realize you were busy, Papa. I’ll come back later.”
“No. Come in, caro. I need to talk to you.” Dear.
She doesn’t spare me a second glance, and I’m happy to beat a hasty retreat.
“Tommaso, you may as well stay. You can explain the newest change in plans.”
I roll my eyes since neither of them can see me before I turn around. Stella looks ready to murder me. She looks magnificent.
“You and Donna Elena will return to Boston with me. While we wait for Uncle Mano to come home, you can get settled. You can move your things in and learn your way around the city.”
I hope she remembers my advice about the storage unit. She glares at me, so it’s difficult to tell.
“When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow morning, just like we originally planned. Be at the airport at eight. I’ll see you then.”
I don’t wait for either of them to argue. I shut the office door behind me.
I told my mother I wouldn’t play Cupid while I was here. My dumbass did, and I shot myself with my own arrow. I’m Sicilian, not Roman, but this shit’s still a tragedy.
* * *
Despite being in an enclosed space for three hours, Stella didn’t stab me or shoot me during the flight. I’m certain the opportunity tempted her. She’s more pissed than I thought she’d be. I hoped edging her was a prelude to more. Apparently not.
As though her frostiness wasn’t bad enough, Gia and Aria came with Stella and Elena.
They cackle like fucking geese. How they’re Elena’s progeny is beyond me.
The woman is the embodiment of grace and sophistication.
Stella takes after her. Gia and Aria—even their father and brother are more charming, which is saying something since they’re both idiots.
Edoardo was supposed to fly out this afternoon.
Gio wants his son with his wife and daughters.
I can’t blame him to be honest. Edoardo had a meeting he couldn’t miss, but Gio refused to send all the women in his family here unaccompanied.
Edoardo used the private cabin and called to join the meeting.
Never mind the half dozen Rizzo bodyguards they brought. We barely all fit on the fucking plane.
I stand at the bottom of the jet’s steps as the women disembark. I offer each of them a hand, but I squeeze Stella’s. She ignores me. I let her walk away, so Edoardo can get off the jet too.
“You can take Gia and Aria to the hotel and check in. Donna Elena and Stella will go to my mother’s house. She wishes to welcome them properly.”
Edoardo’s expression darkens. He’s met my mother. He knows she’s got a viperous tongue. He doesn’t want to leave Elena and Stella exposed to that.
“I’ll be there, and so will my brother and sister.”
That eases some of his tension, but just barely.
He gets into a limo with his sisters, and I get into one with Stella and Elena.
Stella stares out the window, so I chat with Elena.
It doesn’t take us as long as I hoped to get to my mother’s home.
I brace myself because she and Elena are like oil and water.
If Mama wouldn’t flirt with Gio every time they see each other, Elena might not want to scratch her eyes out.
As best I know, neither of my parents ever cheated, and Mama’s shown no interest in remarrying.
I believe she’ll always be loyal to Papa despite his death a few years ago, but given half a chance, I think Mama would call in Gio as her hall pass.
She knows Salvatore and Massimo would laugh in her face, but she believes Gio would be grateful for the opportunity.
The man would cut off both hands to avoid that.
He’s devoted to Elena, and everyone knows it.
Mama thinks she could string him along, and he’d gladly be at her beck and call. Not hardly.
“Mama?”
“Come in.”
My mother emerges from her office. She saw us pull up, since her office windows look out to the driveway.
She wanted to make an entrance rather than appear like she was waiting for anyone.
She holds her arms out to me, and as infuriating as she is, her hugs still feel as good as they did when I was five and skinned my knee.
I kiss her cheek, and she kisses mine. If only she were always like this, rather than the hardened Godmother she’s had to be since Nonno died.
“Welcome, Elena, Stella. It’s so nice to finally have you here.”
The women exchange kisses on each cheek, and they’re as fake as astroturf.
Looks good but isn’t real. Mama leads us into the living room where there’s already fresh fruit, antipasti, cookies, lemonade, and water waiting for us.
While it looks elegant, Stella will soon learn this is the bare minimum by my mother’s standards.
“Where’re Frank and Tori?”
I’d hoped they would be an additional buffer, but I can already tell my brother and sister aren’t here.
“Frank’s out at a build site to meet the city planner.”
Something must have gone wrong if he’s there. It means the amount of money that’s exchanging hands is more than he’ll trust the foreman with.
“Tori and Santi are looking at plots.”
My sister and brother-in-law got married just over a year ago and have been living in Tori’s apartment. Midway through a custom construction, their new house mysteriously burned down. Pretty sure it was Besnik Marku, the new Albanian kyre. Now Tori and Santi are looking for somewhere new to build.
I listen to the women’s small talk while we eat, and it’s stilted as fuck.
Stella’s mainly quiet, which forces Elena to chat with my mom who, in turn, watches Stella with thinly veiled annoyance.
My gaze meets Stella’s every few minutes.
I don’t know if she’d normally be this quiet or if my presence continues to sour her mood.
When the lulls grow more frequent and more painfully uncomfortable, I arrange a car to take Stella and her mother to their hotel.
“What the hell is going on between you and Stella? Did you sleep with her?”
“Mama! No, I did not. But I’m the one dragging her here. I’m not her favorite person.”
The door’s barely closed behind them, and my mother’s ready to launch the Inquisition.
“There’s more to it than that. Whatever crush you have on her better end fast. One hint of it, and Mano will lose his mind.”
“I know, so there’s nothing going on.”
“I may not point it out, but I always know when you’re lying.”
“Mama, it’s nothing.”
“Stella means star. You know that’s what the sun is. Fly too close to it, and your wings will burn. If Mano suspects anything, you’ll disappear just like Icarus did.”
“And it was Icarus’s father, Daedalus, who made his wings to escape King Minos.”
We stare at one another, and it’s obvious who I inherited my stubbornness from. It wasn’t just my father who raised me to be a Mafioso. Both of my parents prepared me to lead our branch once Uncle Mano is gone. We could all do with escaping my cretino zio.
Foolish uncle. That’s about the nicest way I can describe him most days.
“Be careful, cuccuzzu.”
Little head. It doesn’t translate well from Sicilian, but it’s a common term of endearment for a son. Ever since it became obvious—by the time I was fifteen or so—that I’d likely inherit the mantle from Uncle Mano, Mama’s called me that.
“I will, Mama. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
The standoff’s over, and we hug again before I take off. I get to my house and take a quick shower. It’s time for me to return to my normal life, whatever the fuck normal is.