37. Thirty-Six
Thirty-Six
Fabrizio
N ormalcy.
A seemingly simple term, yet one that has always remained just beyond my reach—a dream I could never quite catch. From a young age, I knew that keeping up with the lifestyle my family enjoyed—a life filled with power, wealth, and influence—required sacrifices. Personal happiness was a luxury my brothers and I couldn’t afford. We were meticulously trained to manage our family’s empire, a responsibility that overshadowed every part of our lives. This was an unchallenged principle, an ironclad rule that defined our very existence.
That is, until one day, a fleeting glimpse of another kind of life—a life brimming with ordinary joys and simple pleasures—captured my imagination. For a brief, shining moment, I saw how wonderful an ordinary life could be. But just as quickly as this vision appeared, it was snatched away, plunging me back into the relentless demands of the business. Once again, my every waking moment was consumed. The twins, my children, became my only source of love and solace, even though their presence often brought more pain than comfort. While the broad strokes of my life remained unchanged, the finer details shifted dramatically once more. This latest transformation was all because of the woman lying naked against my chest, her fingers lightly tracing up and down my body, deliberately avoiding my growing desire. A low growl escapes my throat, and she lifts her head, smiling up at me in the most seductive way. In that moment, she has never appeared more beautiful. The combination of Sienna’s innocence and her burgeoning sexual desires is a potent mix, one that makes controlling myself increasingly difficult with each passing second. My hunger for her knows no bounds, neither physically nor emotionally. Her mere presence in my life has begun to dispel the darkness that has long resided within me. After years plagued by nightmares and sleepless nights, I find myself able to sleep through the night, occasionally waking up from a pleasant dream. Falling asleep and waking up with her in my arms is a comfort beyond anything I have ever known. Pulling the sheets around our naked bodies, I savor the feeling of her against me and kiss the top of her head absentmindedly as she snuggles closer. My hand finds the roundness of her belly, where my baby is safely growing inside of her.
The short, sweet moment of silence is just that—short. Half an hour later, I climb down the steps and am fully engulfed in the day-to-day chaos of living with two small children who possess more energy than their small bodies should be able to contain.
“Mommy, come on! We are late for school,” Maddy calls out, her voice a mixture of urgency and excitement.
The way my daughter gazes up at Sienna is a sight that fills my heart with both profound joy and a pinch of sorrow. Maddy has always been quick to trust, her innocence too pure for the harsh realities of the world she was born into. From the instant I brought Sienna home months ago, Maddy clung to her as if she had always been a part of our family, not needing a single moment to adapt to the presence of a new woman in our lives. Her cheerful personality has only flourished since then. Maddy absorbs everything Sienna does or says with an eagerness that only a child can possess. She mirrors Sienna’s laughter, her gestures, and even the way she hums a tune while cooking. The bond they share is like a beautiful dance, one that has brought more light into our home than I ever imagined possible. What truly astonished me was the speed with which my son, Flynn, lost his heart to Sienna. Flynn, who mirrors my own reserved and often painfully serious demeanor, took me by surprise. I expected him to hold onto his guarded nature for much longer, to remain detached and cautious. Yet, the impact Sienna has had on him is nothing short of miraculous. Although it took him longer than his sister, Flynn eventually began to show signs of happiness, relaxation, and a carefree spirit that had been absent since he was a toddler. His transformation has been remarkable. He now behaves more like the five-year-old he is, rather than a miniature adult burdened with the weight of the world. His laughter rings through the house, his eyes sparkle with mischief, and his once somber expressions have softened into smiles. Even though I hesitated to admit it, my brothers were right all along—a child needs a mother. And mine couldn’t have asked for a better one. Sienna adores the twins and has embraced the role of a mother with an ease and grace that amazes me every day. She loves Maddy and Flynn as if they were her own flesh and blood. Sometimes, a wave of guilt washes over me when my thoughts drift to the children’s actual mother. The feeling is fleeting, quickly replaced by the knowledge that my late wife would have wanted exactly this. She would have wanted our children to be happy, to be loved unconditionally, and for me to find a way to live on. In those moments, I find solace in knowing that Sienna has not only filled a void in our lives but has also honored my late wife’s memory by bringing joy and love back into our home.
“Flynn, don’t forget your backpack.” Sienna laughs, her voice filled with the warmth of a mother’s affection, as the little boy dashes past her and out the door. The morning sun catches his tousled hair, making him appear as a blur of youthful energy. He is already halfway to the car when he skids to a halt, his sneakers scraping against the gravel driveway as he spins around and races back, his little backpack bouncing as he grabs it in one swift motion.
“Bye, Daddy!” he calls out, his voice high-pitched and cheerful. Without looking back, Flynn waves energetically in my direction before bolting towards the waiting car, his excitement palpable.
Meanwhile, my daughter approaches with a more measured pace, her tiny arms outstretched, her intent clear. “Bye, Daddy,” she says, her voice soft and sweet as she wraps her arms around my legs in a hug that feels both tender and precious.
“Have fun at school, amore,” I murmur, bending down to kiss her on the head. Her giggle is like music, light and infectious, as she pulls away and skips after her brother, her backpack swinging back and forth with each joyful step.
Sienna grabs her purse and heads towards the door. “Are you going to be home for dinner?” she asks, her eyes meeting mine.
“Of course,” I reply, reaching out to take her wrist. I pull her gently back against my chest, feeling the familiar warmth of her body against mine.
“What are you doing? We are already running late,” she protests, though there’s a playful glint in her eyes.
“You still have more than enough time to say goodbye properly,” I say, brushing my lips against hers. She hesitates for a moment, then parts her lips, allowing me to slip my tongue inside her mouth. The kiss is electric, a simple pleasure that ignites a deep, unspoken passion within me. Sensing my carnal desires, she places her hands on my chest, gently pushing me away.
“Stop that. I have to go, and the kids are watching,” she says, though her voice betrays a hint of reluctance.
“Remember where we stopped because that’s precisely where we’ll continue tonight,” I whisper against her lips as I let her go, savoring the feel of her skin one last time. The blush coloring her cheeks is beautiful, a delicate shade that makes my desire for her intensify. She gives me a quick peck on the lips, her touch fleeting but sweet, before hurrying to the car. I watch her go, a sense of longing mingling with the anticipation of her return, feeling more lighthearted than I have in a long time. As she slips into the car, I make a promise to myself: Family comes first. Never again will I lose sight of that.
Swirling the drink in my hand, I lean back into my chair, letting the cool evening breeze graze my skin. The air is infused with the heady aroma of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass, creating a perfect symphony of nature that melds seamlessly with the serene twilight. Each breath I take is filled with the essence of this tranquil atmosphere, and a contented smile spreads across my face as I soak in the picturesque scene before me. In the garden, my younger brother moves with the nimbleness of a young deer, darting around as he chases the twins. Meanwhile, my father is utterly engrossed by my wife, sitting beside her as she shows him the latest ultrasound pictures of our daughter, who is due in just a few weeks. Sienna laughs at something he says, her eyes sparkling with delight, and for the millionth time since I met her, I find myself utterly captivated by her. There’s something undeniably magnetic about her, a charm that has only intensified since she started carrying our child. With a serene and content look on her face, Sienna leans back, resting her hands on her ever-growing belly.
She listens intently to whatever my father is saying, her expression a mix of curiosity and joy. The sight of her, so radiant and full of life, fills me with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and admiration. My father, usually known for his stern and unyielding demeanor, transforms completely in her presence. The hard lines of his face soften, and his eyes, often sharp and calculating, now glisten with a tender affection that I rarely see. This softer side of him, revealed only in these precious moments, is something I deeply cherish. Although he might not have been an exemplary father during my childhood, retirement has brought out a new facet of him—a doting grandfather to my children. It’s a role he embraces with surprising enthusiasm. Even the new baby, who has yet to be born, already has him wrapped around her little finger. I can see it in the way he talks about her, his voice filled with gentle reverence and excitement. As he gazes at my wife, a smile plays on his lips, a testament to the profound joy she brings into our lives. The atmosphere around us is almost idyllic, filled with warmth and familial love. However, there is one person who seems out of place—Marcello. He sits stiffly beside me, his tension palpable, a stark contrast to the relaxed ambiance enveloping us. His brow is furrowed, and the way he nervously taps his fingers against his leg signals that something is weighing heavily on his mind. The shadows of responsibility and worry flicker across his face, casting a somber tone over his features. Since stepping into retirement, Dad has become lighter and more relaxed, shedding the weight of years of responsibility. In stark contrast, Marcello has grown increasingly stern and brooding since inheriting the reins of leadership from our father. When I was younger, I envied Marcello; a part of me yearned for the power and authority his position in our family symbolized. But today, I am immensely grateful that the mantle of leadership did not fall to me. Each time I see him, the burdens of his role seem to weigh him down more heavily. And in this moment, surrounded by family and the promise of new beginnings, Marcello’s unease is even more glaringly apparent.
“If you have something to say, say it,” I urge, breaking the silence that has settled between us like a suffocating fog. In recent months, I have distanced myself from the family business, choosing instead to immerse myself in the joys of fatherhood and the serenity of my newfound domestic bliss. I knew that eventually, Marcello and I would need to have this conversation—a reckoning of sorts. Despite his efforts to be the understanding older brother, there comes a point when he must step into his role as the head of the family once again.
“If you want to discuss my priorities,” I continue, my voice firm but calm, “they are right here.” I gesture to the vibrant garden surrounding us. My children’s laughter fills the air as they play, and my wife, gently cradling her baby bump, epitomizes what truly matters to me. “And you already know my answer.” Marcello’s face softens slightly, the rigid lines of his expression giving way to a more understanding look.
“I will not ask you to choose,” he says, his voice tinged with resignation but also a hint of empathy.
“Good,” I reply, yet I can sense he has more to say. The weight of his hesitance lingers in the air.
“But…” he begins, dragging his hand along his face, each movement revealing the weariness etched into his features. “How do you feel about relocating?”
“What?” His question hits me like a bolt of lightning, completely unexpected and disorienting. My mind races to catch up, trying to process the implications of his words.
"There have been a few more breaches in our supply chain,” he continues, his voice heavy with concern.
“A few?” I echo, my interest piqued, realizing the gravity of the situation. The room seems to shrink as the importance of his words sink in.
He sighs deeply. “Three, to be precise. The street value of the loss is just about two million.”
“You want me to go to Miami?” I ask, already anticipating his response. The gears in my mind start turning, knowing the kind of action this situation demands. Marcello nods solemnly, staring ahead as he waits for my answer. I ponder for a moment, then a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Well, the twins loved it there. And I’m sure my wife would appreciate a few weeks away from our overbearing father.” The thought of a temporary escape from the pressures of our current environment brings a sense of relief, a fleeting respite from the storm.
Marcello chuckles softly, a rare sound that instantly lightens the mood. “Who wouldn’t?”
“You just want him to stop pushing you to get married,” I tease, catching the flicker of amusement in his eyes.
“Maybe you could bring him with you,” he suggests, a mischievous glint dancing in his gaze. “I’m sure he would love to babysit.”
I throw my head back and laugh heartily, the sound echoing in the room as I down the last of my drink. “Hell, no,” I say, savoring this brief moment of camaraderie amidst the underlying tension.