Chapter Fourteen
Severin
When I land in New York, my father leans against the family car waiting like he owns the place. The look he gives me is not welcoming.
I walk toward him, calm and controlled. He feeds off my anger, and I’m not in the mood for his bitchiness. I’m ready to get back to my girl and enjoy Christmas for the first time since I was able to understand the meaning.
The ride home is awkward as hell. He doesn't speak or look at me. He’s glued to his phone with one of our contributors. His silence makes me nervous. He’s never this quiet, and when he is, he’s… deadly. I think he gets off by stressing me out.
I grit my teeth and pull out my phone to see if Matt has left with Maggie. I can not wait to get back to her. I’ve never felt so relaxed and free from what I am.
The location shows they are at a wine bar not shopping. What the fuck? A growl escapes me and I see red. Why is she not where she is supposed to be? My fingers text so fast.
Matt replies back. She wanted her day to start at her favorite wine bar. She states it’s five o'clock somewhere.
That woman is going to be the death of me. I reply. Just don't let her get drunk and keep your eyes open and alert.
I maintain my silence on the drive to my father's mansion. I can feel my father watching me. He shifts in his seat, eyes narrowed at me. “I guess your little lady friend is not obeying orders. Huh. I warned you that no witness should be left alive.”
I grit my teeth. Heat rises up my back. “You will not speak like that. Not with her. She saved my life, Father. She could have left me to bleed out but she chose otherwise." I seethe, "You will never lay a finger on her."
His lip curls with hate. “Weakness will kill you, Son. You need to be dangerous, not emotional.”
I lean in with a sarcastic laugh. “Dangerous. That’s all Viktor and I ever knew growing up. Hell, our first gift as a child was a real gun.”
“Son, you were born into the mafia family. This is our life. You were trained and taught the family business so I can pass it on to you.” He reaches out, patting my hand like I’m a child, still thinking he can mold me into a version of him.
My father has always been a sadistic bastard.
He got off torturing Viktor and I. I remember my brother and I sneaking out to the backyard when we saw baby bunny rabbits hopping in the grass.
I was seven and Viktor was nine, just kids.
We were sitting with the baby bunnies running around between our legs when father appeared, fuming with anger.
Out of nowhere, he struck me first with his heavy hand, wearing a damn pinky ring that never gets removed.
That blow hit me so hard I did a back flip.
Viktor was next. He stood over me. My father hated me more than my brother, and he made that clear from all the lashes and bruises I got.
He always said I was a pussy. That Mother should’ve never breastfed me as a baby because it made me weak.
His eyes went dark, the same sick gleam he gives when he enjoys inflicting pain to his victims.
Crunching sounds bring my attention back to the present. Father’s massive dark red brick facade looms over the circular drive that was built for appearance to impress, never for warmth, and never for family love.
I need air.
Before the driver could park the car and cut the engine, I open the door and step out into the brutal cold New York air.
The wind is so sharp and biting cold filled with the city's choking toxins. This is different from the Black Mountain air. Up there, the air is refreshing, crisp, and clean. It doesn’t feel suffocating like my home.
I need to go back to her. Back to Maggie. My new home.
As I climb the stone steps two at a time, Al is already at the door, standing straight like he was taught. His hands are behind his back while he awaits. He flicks his eyes to mine, then to my father behind me.
Tension rises between us. Anger radiates off both of us, more so from him, and it will be worse once I tell him I’m leaving the organization.
I’ll make it clear for the first time in my life that I’m walking away and choosing love over the complex web of violence, drugs, bloodshed, and so much more.
Danger lies in pulling away. My father won’t be happy, and he might even kill me because of it.
But I don’t think I care. If it means getting a chance of happiness with her then…
It’s worth whatever my father’s wrath will bring.
I built my army, loyal men who would follow me anywhere, and agree to the rules I play by. But none of that matters if I can’t have her.
“Good day, Don Vitelli," he says, bowing his head. I’ve always hated how they treat my father like a king. I know he is the Don, but he’s not God and that just pisses me off more.
“Welcome back, Mr. Severin.” He’s about to do the same for me, but I hold out my hand, stopping him. I don’t want him to bow to me like I'm royal or somthing. It’s always been weird to me.
He steps back, swinging his arm inward for us to enter.
The warm air is welcoming, and the faint scent of Maria, our cook's homemade spaghetti sauce drifts all around us. For the first time since I’ve arrived, this feels a little like home.
Maria. She’s the woman who fed me, washed my clothes, and tended to me after Mom passed.
The only reason I’d ever willingly come back once I step down is to see her.
Al shuts the door with a soft click. I don't even look at my father. I have other priorities first, and those are big, warm hugs from Maria.
Maria gasps when I enter the kitchen, placing her hand over her lips. After a moment, she drops it and runs over with arms open wide. I drop my guard, letting her pull me into her embrace. The tension in my shoulders and neck melts.
“Severin, what happened? Are you okay my sweet boy,” she whispers, her voice filling with worry.
I shake my head as I move away. I can’t tell her too much. I need her to be safe. “It's complicated Maria, but right now I just need normalcy.”
I want to bring her along, but that would start a war for sure with my father. Al and Maria have been part of this family long before Viktor and I were. They’re loyal to my father.
Maria studies my face. She knows not to ask too many questions. “You look exhausted,” she says, slapping the side of my jaw lightly. “Sit. I’ll fix you a plate.” It’s just like her to assume everything can be fixed with a plate of food.
I walk to the kitchen table, taking a seat. She strolls over with a plate of steaming spaghetti and meatballs, placing it in front of me. I grab the fork, breaking off some of the meatball, then swirling the spaghetti around it. The flavors are to die for, rich with Italian seasoning.
“I think I’ve met someone,” I blurt out and instantly regret it. I don’t want to tell anyone my secret… not even her. But her food just brings it out of me. “Her name is Maggie, and she saved my life.”
Maria's mouth turns into a wide smile. “I’m so happy for you, Severin. When can I meet her?”
I place my hand on top of hers. “It’ll be a while.” I keep my voice down. “I can’t tell you too much, but things are going to be stressful here for a bit.” I sigh. “I’m leaving tonight to be with her. Father won’t be happy after we have a talk.”
“Severin,” she says my name like a prayer. “Tonight, really?” She frowns. “It’s Christmas Eve. Your father has a charity party later.” She frantically looks around. “Matter of fact, I need to get back to cooking.”
“Everything will be fine. The charity will go on, but I won’t be part of that. I want to spend Christmas with Maggie.”
Maria nods knowing that life in the mafia is always dangerous. “Be careful." She kisses my cheek. “And please, come back to visit me.”
“I promise.” I finish my food and hug her one last time.
“Okay… I need to return to work before your father comes in fussing. I’ll pack you some food to take back with you.” A bright smile appears on her face. “I’ll make your favorite. I hope she likes it.”