Chapter 5
Matteo
“That’s it. Keep pushing, cugino.”
The sweat is trickling down my skin, my arms trembling under the strain of the heavy weight. It’s admittedly been far too long since I’ve hit the gym. I’ve always enjoyed working out with Giovanni and his head of security, Anthony. But I’ve let most of my routines fall to the wayside over the last few years. I know getting a regular schedule in place is the best thing for me. That and staying clear of temptation.
“You need to get up earlier and exercise with us, Matteo.” Giovanni sits on a gray leather couch along the back wall of the gym with a laptop beside him. “Anthony and I come down each morning around six. That should give you plenty of time to work out and make it to work.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“No.” His voice grows more terse, causing me to lower the barbell back to its place as I turn to make eye contact with him. “You need to make this a priority. If you get upset about something, work it out in the gym. No more alcohol.”
“I get it. I get it.”
If only it were that easy.
For individuals without an addiction disorder, it’s easy to think “Just say no.” I used to think that’s all it took. And for a long while, it was. Until you slip and let the source of your addiction into your system. Once it has its tentacles embedded into you, it’s the one in the driver’s seat.
I’d grown up surrounded by alcoholism. There isn’t a time I can remember when my father was stone cold sober. It became difficult to determine when his behavior was fueled by pure evil or by the drinking. Or if the alcohol was just a convenient excuse. Because one thing is certain. Vincenzo Mencini is the devil incarnate.
Whether he was raised to commit vile, wicked acts on those around him or it is simply part of his DNA is irrelevant. He is immoral, his behavior criminal. And if the Agenzia Informazioni e Sicurezza Esterna cannot stop him, then I’ll take him out myself.
Even as a child, our life was shrouded in secrecy and chaos. There were no happy family moments together around the dining table. My father was often absent, my mother deeply depressed. As we grew, nannies were replaced with tutors. But not of the academic variety. We were introduced to the Messina family business little by little, until it was all we knew. The more my brothers and I learned about the dark world my father was training us to join, the clearer it became why my mother was a recluse.
As soon as I was mature enough to appreciate his malevolent acts for what they were, I wanted out. Add to that his obvious mistreatment of my mother, and I wanted no part of his life. Yet, I needed to wait it out. I couldn’t leave my younger brothers behind. And while they were trained as craftsmen, Luca a metalsmith, and our middle brother, Nico, a glass blower, the focus of my education was learning everything necessary to step in as my father’s replacement if the day should come.
It says a lot about the men he has surrounding him that despite his drinking, he has managed to stay alive. I hung in there for years, observing deplorable acts of violence against humanity, until my mother killed herself and my baby sister was kidnapped, tortured, and raped. By the grace of God, we were able to find her and bring her home. Yet not before she became pregnant at the hands of her captors.
I became fixated on the need to destroy the monster who kidnapped my sister, as well as the man who allowed it to happen. After Antonia was abducted and assaulted, my hatred for my father for allowing this to happen grew. Not to mention, once Luca and I were able to locate her and safely return her home, Vincenzo privately shunned her as damaged goods because she was pregnant.
Once my nephew Dominico, or Mimmo as we call him, was born, we waited until he was old enough to safely travel to the United States and then made our escape. Luca, Giovanni, Antonia, Mimmo, and I moved to Virginia several years ago. My brother, Nico, stayed behind. We tried to convince him to come with us, but whether it was due to fear or greed, he stayed in Sicily, working alongside my father.
While we’ve altered our names to try to fly under the radar, we don’t hold any illusions that the Messina crime family couldn’t locate us if they wanted to. We live in Hanover, Virginia, just south of Washington D.C. Giovanni lives closer to the D.C. beltway, where he manages a private gentleman’s club which also serves as a front for our attempts to investigate my father’s crime syndicate. My auto body shop has a similar dual purpose, allowing business to occur that will distract from any questionable activity required to track down and eliminate my father and his minions.
My sister, Antonia, is improving under the watchful care of Luigi and his wife Maria, but she still remains fragile. She receives therapy on a regular basis, and Giovanni and I have security in place to protect her, my nephew, Luigi, and Maria. Luca was a great help to her when he was in the states, but he has found his happily ever after.
My baby brother is too good a man to remain trapped in this abhorrent existence. While focused on protecting my sister and nephew, he hadn’t become obsessed with vengeance as Giovanni and I have. He met and fell in love with a wonderful woman and her three children. Thankfully, they have been able to assume new identities and are living the island life in Jamaica.
I miss my brother terribly. I don’t think I knew just how difficult it would be without him until he was gone. We attempt to video chat when the security team ensures the lines are encrypted, but travel to the states is much riskier. While it can be done, we don’t take unnecessary risks if we can help it.
Unnecessary risks.
My marriage to Sydney had been just that. In a moment of weakness, I allowed myself to think I could have it all. Until chatter on the dark web indicated just how far my father would go to punish disloyal behavior. There was no way I could take a chance with the one person who meant more to me than life itself. I needed to make it clear we were over.
Even if she owns my heart ’til the last breath leaves my body.
Dropping the weight bar back onto the stand with a heavy clunk, I reach up to wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my arm. I can admit I’m out of shape, but there’s no denying my body’s alcohol withdrawal is contributing to the amount of perspiration on my skin.
Addiction is a strange bedfellow. As much as you rue the constant craving to numb your pain with alcohol, you have to appreciate its tenacity. For as soon as you let your guard down, it can sneak up on you.
My alcoholism has taken on many forms over my lifetime. I avoided drinking like the plague in my early years, reminding myself I wanted to be nothing like my father. But I’d never really experimented with alcohol, so I wasn’t entirely sure I had a problem. It only took a few evenings of binge drinking after my mother died to determine I didn’t have the self-control that Luca and Giovanni possessed. So, I managed to put alcohol behind me.
Until my marriage was over.
Pushing my wife away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I knew I had to make her safety a priority. But the guilt and fear I lived with over putting her in harm’s way chipped away at my resolve. I initially drowned my grief in scotch. Then, once I was able to sober up enough to work, I’d switch to vodka as it was easier to disguise in plain sight. This allowed me to be more functional, keeping up with my job. Most days anyway.
It was easier for me, given I didn’t have regular work responsibilities to keep the business afloat. The body shop was a front, pure and simple. Not as my father’s mafioso exploits had been. We didn’t do money laundering as he had, but instead managed auto body work in the front of the house and managed security and various less than legal business operations in the back. Occasionally, we imported the weapons we needed for our security team, as well as coordinating business dealings with various crime syndicates we were hoping to infiltrate.
Reaching for a bottle of water, I down nearly half in one go. “G, Anthony, I need to talk to you about Sydney.”
“What’s up, boss?” Anthony asks, hands on his hips, looking as if it’s a day at the beach, not a hardcore workout in the gym.
“I want better security on her. I need to know who’s coming and going from her place.”
“Cugino. Come on, man. It’s only going to fuel the fire if you’re able to watch her every step. Look what just happened.”
“I need to know she’s safe!” I snap. “Half of my issue is the constant worry that something could happen to her. Because of me.” Looking away from them, I decide to come clean. “She’s dating. I don’t want her na?ve, open heart to let the wrong person in.”
“Shit, man. When you stood us up for dinner the other night, I didn’t understand what was going on until Chuck called from the pub saying you were there. What happened?” Giovanni asks.
“I was waiting for you guys at Buckhead’s when I noticed her sitting with some guy. We’ve had security on her for years. Yet no one mentioned she was dating again. But it was obvious this wasn’t a friend or work colleague.”
“Fuck, man. I’m sorry.” Anthony frowns.
“I knew it would happen, eventually. Hell, I’m the one who pushed her away. But when I saw him put his hand on her, I fucking lost it.”
Giovanni comes over to stand beside me, resting his hand on my shoulder. “Had you seen her since you left?”
“No. I’ve gotten updates on her whereabouts. But I haven’t seen her in person since the night at Luigi’s.”
“The night you pulled my date into your lap?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Boy, did I have a lot of explaining to do with her that night.”
I shoot him a death glare. Honestly, I remember very little of that night. I was drinking pretty heavily in those early days post-breakup.
“Look, we’ll do whatever you need. But let us watch her. It’ll only torture you if you’re any more involved. Hell, Matteo. That would push anyone to drink, much less someone who—”
“Inherited his DNA from dear old dad?”
G rubs the back of his neck, seeming to have a little more clarity over my most recent backslide.
“I don’t trust anyone. The last thing I need is for someone to pose as a would-be date and, in fact, be from my father’s organization, sent to hurt her.”
“Or the Grassos trying to even the score,” Anthony adds. The Grasso crime family has long waged a war with the Messinas for territory in Italy. From our research, our father has tried to spin our departure as an attempt to plant our family’s roots in the U.S. There’s no way he’d allow our disloyal split to become public knowledge. This makes it even more concerning when threats are eminent. We don’t know if they’re coming from enemy territory, or the evil we’re actually related to.
“Max is trying to keep watch on the dark web for us. I keep trying to make him an unofficial part of our security team, but for now he’s doing the work pro bono. Man, that guy lives for this shit. I’ll just have to waive his membership fee for eternity.”
“Uh, isn’t he a billionaire?”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t have to do this for us. It feels like the least I should do.”
In the short time I’ve known Max Wilde, he’s seemed like a stand-up guy. Giovanni has given him access to the club security offices to help monitor for any signs of trouble. He apparently amassed his wealth from his work in cyber security, as well as inventing various defense software apps. Max has his own personal demons he keeps close to the vest. But I know Giovanni has the utmost respect for him, and that’s all I need to know.
“Listen, Matteo. Leave this to us. We won’t let anything happen to her.”
I give him a curt nod. I know he’s right. The last thing I need is to start becoming even more fixated with watching Sydney’s every move. It’ll likely drive me mad. It’s beyond my addiction to alcohol.
I’m obsessed with my wife. Whether she believes it or not.