Il Peccati del Padre
[The Sins of the Father]
"Mari, wh- why are you here?" Luca gazed at Marco, his eyes displaying his relief and exposing his joy.
"La notte porta consiglio," Marco responds simply. (The night brings advice. Time allows you to mull things over.).
"I'm happy to see you. I'm sorry for how I gave you that news. I don't know why I didn't acqua in mia bocca... it just came out," Luca wondered, before realising they were still by the office door. (Keep the water in my mouth. Meaning: shut up/keep the secret.).
"Come in, come in," Luca ushers Marco.
"No, let's go to our old headquarters," Marco suggested, but was already walking to the front doors.
Over the koi pond, through the bamboo forest and tucked in an oak tree in a nook of the expansive property was a treehouse of epic proportions.
The door slid open when Marco pressed his thumbprint on an inconspicuous rock. They enter and Luca nearly cried at the setup.
Luciano Pavarotti's rendition of "Mamma" plays on the record player. A coin sat atop the needle and it glided like butter.
After taking off their shoes at the concrete entrance, they step down into a conversation pit, cushioned and covered with a homemade quilt.
"Take a seat," Marco guided.
Luca slid under the quilt. The scent of chamomile and lavender blended in the air, present, but unobtrusive. Luca felt his tension headache ebb away.
"Here, Baiocchi e Latte Intero. Plain and simple, huh"? Marco hands over the tray with their snacks to get seated himself. (Hazelnut and chocolate cream cookies and whole milk).
"Why are you doing this? I killed your mentor and father-figure," Luca gazed into the milk with his lips pursed.
"I took an oath to follow you to death. That means I trust you more than myself... so, I trust you now to tell me what he did to make you assassinate him," Marco said, his voice leveled.
"Trust me that much"? Luca wondered to himself.
"Yes. Now, prove me right," Marco commanded.
"You know Rusev, Bulgarian Mafia Boss, our family had a war with them over the Americas' Strip?" Luca questioned.
"Naturally, he wanted to quit the accords that established how much of the strip is allotted to whom," Marco answered.
"Yup, the Italians and associates have North and East Americas, while the Bulgarians and the Sol International Seven District and associates run the South and West Americas. But do you know WHO is Rusev?" Luca circled.
"Luca, of. Course. We've had several run-ins with the Bulgarians and the Bratva," Marco's voice leaked frustration.
"No, that man you saw is the underboss. The real boss is a woman named, Paola Darina... she's also my father's mistress," Luca shell-shocked Marco.
"Holy fuck!" Marco barely gathered his wits to answer.
"Yup, that hit on my mother? Over some fucking affair and he had the gall to pretend it was a Family-involved incident. He had her hunted and tortured and made to give birth under extreme duress! And for what? He's a filthy whore who killed my mother," Luca rebuked.
"Fuck, man, that's... fucked," Marco could hardly offer.
"I know,".
"He knew where she was too. He knew how she struggled to save my sisters and live. He knew and he just watched from his love nest with that woman in Gabrovo," Luca continued.
YOU ARE READING
The Empire's Descent (First Draft)
FantasyExcerpt: "Luca, it's a male Vampyr in the Green Grotto!", she burst into his office to inform. Luca rolled his eyes and clutched the desk before him, where he gripped splintered under the force. "Does it still hurt that much? Ari said you'll be able...
