Sweet Girl (BWWM)

Chapter Seven

Third Person

"You will marry her, or you will lose your position."
Santo stood there, angry. His father was being an asshole, the normal.

Giuseppe was a good leader as he had been Don for going on 40 years— but he was a terrible father. There was no love- just strict training and discipline. Giuseppe would mutter the words "I love you." He never taught his son how to ride a bike or any of the things a young boy should do with or learn from his father. Well except with his daughter, Sophia. She could do no wrong in Giuseppe's eyes. She was an actual saint.

Giuseppe was an even worst husband, a dirty cheater and liar. Though he never physically abused his family, the mental and emotional abuse was enough.

"You cannot take away my position. I have earned it, I have worked hard for 33 years— why whole life. And I will not marry Gabriella La Genta, this conversation is over and done with."
His father took steps, making the space between them grow smaller and smaller with each stride.

"I am your father. You will do as I say, and besides it is just a year. What do you have to lose? "
His father's eyes grew darker with each sentence.

Iyesha, I could lose Iyesha.

"No."
Santo shook his head and stormed out of the office, searching for his mother. She was the only one that seemed to have her head on straight in this delusional, dysfunctional family.

He stormed down the corridor, his mood had been on a plummet ever since he had left Iyesha's apartment. He could still feel her skin against his as her scent still lingered in his nose.

His mother, Francis sat in the reading room, scanning through a book about plant species. She looked ill. Francis looked over at her son, he looked just like his father. The dark hair and cold blue eyes. Those stern expressions always gracing their face, the height and build, twins.

"My sweetest boy. Come sit."
Santo found his way over to his mother, plopping down beside her. She could sense his frustration.

"I will not marry this girl- "
Francis stopped him.

"Who is she, son?"
She could tell he was wrapped up with someone else.

"What do you mean?"
He did not expect his mother to asked such question. How did she know?

"You know exactly what I'm saying boy. The girl that has you wrapped around her finger. That's why you won't marry. Your father has threatened to take your position and you still say no? Who is she?"
His mother asked once again.

"She is the one. I know it, I can feel it. This La Genta collaboration can be brought another way. I just can't lose her, not like this. "
Iyesha danced through his mind.

"You're in love?"
Santo said nothing. He didn't know.

"Ahh, my baby boy is in love. What is her name?"

"Iyesha."
Francis' mind was clouded, but then it hit her as her eyes widened.

"Those flowers, those beautiful roses. The florist?"
Saint nodded his head slowly, the name of her shop was on the wrapping of the bouquet.

"Is she a pretty girl? I bet she is. Do you have a picture?"
She blabbed on and Saint hesitated to pull his phone out and show his mother a picture.

She stared at the picture, not what she was expecting. She had honestly expected her son to settle with someone of their heritage. But she was beautiful, actually the direct opposite of her son. She looked innocent, sweet— untainted.

"She looks so young Santo. She is beautiful, healthy."
She referred to her full figure, with a laugh.

"She's a bit younger than me."
That bit was 11 whole years. Francis squinted at her son.