𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

25.

All my childhood was spent in this mansion.

That's why I gave it to Fabricio - for him, only good memories were made in these corridors.

Every corner and every room on this property makes my blood boil with the horrible memories I have of the early years of my life.

Obviously, the only Italian Mafia Capo's son would have a restricted and traumatizing life. Now, imagine the life of the only Italian Mafia Capo's  bastard child.

Exactly. Me.

My mother cared little for me, she loved her freedom as much as she loved my father's second-in-command.

My real father. 

Who I never got to know because as soon as I was born my father did the favor of decapitating him and framing his head in a shop window.

A shiver went down my back at the hatred felt for my father.

I was the fruit of my mother's love and my father's second in command. I was the picture of why the love of my mother's life was killed and why she disappeared when I was only six.

A cold breeze prevented me from being able to light my cigarette as I sat at the outdoor dining table. Background music came out of the speakers in a beautiful way and the drink started to rise in my body.

Everyone ate and drank, feasted and laughed. Even my peccato who was wrapped in my clothes.

I admit I never thought it was possible to see Serena not being stubborn, but here she was. Chatting animatedly with Romeo and Gio and eating decently. Her laugh echoed through the gardens that surrounded us and infected everyone at the table.

Have she ever looked at me since she got out here? No.

Is she far way from Bianchi? Yes.

And that was enough for me.

"Cugino!" (cousin) Fabricio started beside me "Parlami di affari, come va tutto?" (Talk to me about business, how's everything?)

I took a deep breath of smoke from my cigarette after I finally managed to light it "As far as possible, well yes"

Fabricio burst out laughing "You liar, you forget that I know you too well to know when you lie! Come on, tell me everything"

I flushed the smoke out of my lungs and sat up straighter in my chair, at this point all I wanted to talk about the least was work.

"We have a little problem but-" Amo started.

"Amo, stai zitto, non ora" (shut up, not now) Gio commented from across the table.

He notices. He knows. Evans's subject is not for now.

"Nicola che succede? Sai che hai sempre il mio supporto!" (Nicole what's going on? You know you always have my support!) Fabricio spoke now with a more serious face.

"Ho ucciso Evans" (I killed Evans) I said inhaling more heavily from my cigarette. 

Not that I regret it. I would do it again. The son of a bitch deserved it, but this only makes our dealings with London and the underground worse.

"Cosa? Hai perso la testa per sempre? Evans era un buon commerciante..." (What? Have you lost your mind forever? Evans was a good trader...) Fabricio said, quite restless in his place. The drink and the fury of his friend being dead is getting to him.

The problem is: the Evans that Fabricio remembers is an innocent and concerned Evans with the world. He was arrested six years before Fabricio was taken to prison and since then Evans has become a disgusting psychopath.