Mafia Ties & LA Skies

Chapter 8 - Matteo

The coffee percolates in the cheap machine Mr. Andretti set up in the guesthouse. It's not ideal, but it's better than nothing. The scent of the brewing coffee mixes with the crisp morning air filtering through the open kitchenette window, grounding me out of my whirlwind of thoughts. I stand in my newly ironed black suit, waiting for the hot drink to drip its last drop into my mug, when yesterday's conversation with Geraldo replays in my mind, refusing to let me rest.

"Well, my dear boy. It involves your father," Geraldo said, his voice dropping. "There's something you need to know, something I've kept hidden for far too long."

He leaned in. "Your father's death... it wasn't an accident."

My heart stopped as those words hung in the air like an impending storm. The world seemed to narrow, and for a moment, all I could hear was the pounding of my own heartbeat.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my brow furrowing as I searched his eyes for some sign that this was all a bad joke.

"Well, as you know, your father and I were close. He was one of my most trusted men. But his loyalty..." his voice drifted as he carefully chose his next words. I could see the calculation in his eyes, the way he weighed every syllable. "It wavered in the end, and it cost him his life."

I tensed. "He was loyal to you until the end," I said through gritted teeth. "Whatever mistakes he made, I'm sure he paid for them."

Geraldo's expression stayed unchanged, his eyes cold and unreadable. There was something almost unsettling about it. "Yes, he did. But his actions left a void that you were meant to fill. That's why I sent you to New York—to protect you, to give you time to grow into the man you needed to be."

"To protect me?" I scoffed. "You exiled me, Geraldo. You sent me away without a word, left me to fend for myself. How is that protecting me?" My voice was rising, but I didn't care.

"I had my reasons," he replied calmly. "And now, those reasons are more relevant than ever. There are things you don't know, Matteo—things about your father, about his death."

My heart kept pounding as I leaned forward. "What are you talking about?" My voice was tight, barely controlled. I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

"There was more to your father's death than you were told," he said, his voice lowering. "It wasn't just a betrayal. It was a setup—a deliberate move to eliminate him and others in my organization."

A setup? My father's death was orchestrated? My mind reeled, trying to process all this new information. If what Geraldo is saying is true, then everything I've been told about my father's death, about my own exile, was it a lie?

"Who?" I finally managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "Who did this?"

Geraldo's eyes darkened, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something else in his gaze. Regret, maybe? "That's what I want to find out. That and... something else. But that's why I needed you back here, Matteo. You need to help me uncover the truth."

It took me a moment to register what he was saying. This revelation meant I wasn't just here for the simple task of protecting Eliza. I was here for something far more dangerous, far more sinister. My stomach twisted at the thought. This was bigger than anything I'd expected, bigger than me, bigger than even Eliza.

"So this was your plan all along?" I asked, my voice steady, though my mind was anything but. I needed answers, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being drawn into something I wasn't fully prepared for.

"Don't get the wrong idea, my boy," Geraldo said, his tone softening slightly, as if he sensed my unease. "My daughter is still number one in my life. I still need you to keep her safe at all costs. But now that you're back, I can deal with this other task knowing you may have an in with whoever your father was dealing with."

"I see. So what exactly happened between you and my father?" I pressed, needing more answers, more pieces to this puzzle that was my life.

"Unfortunately, I put my trust in the wrong hands with some money back twenty years ago, and at some point, your father strayed," Geraldo admitted, his voice tinged with a bitterness I hadn't heard before. "I won't get into the details of it all, but that money is still out there. And I need you to find it."

"And what makes you so confident I won't be just like my father?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it.

Geraldo smiled mischievously, a glint of something almost playful in his eyes. "If you were anything like your father, you probably never would have come back here in the first place. But I know you. And I know that, even if my daughter is betrothed to some other man, you'll still do anything for her, and therefore, for me."

His words struck a chord deep within me, and I found myself unable to deny the truth in them. Despite everything, despite the years of distance and the unresolved feelings, I would do anything for Eliza. That was the one thing that hadn't changed, the one constant in a sea of uncertainty.

The coffee machine hisses as it finishes its brew, snapping me back to the present. I take a sip of the hot liquid, but the once comforting taste now seems bitter, tainted by the weight of yesterday's revelation. The simple pleasures of my morning routine now feel hollow, overshadowed by the thoughts swirling in my mind. As much as I want to delve deeper into the mystery of my father's death, I have another job to focus on today. I need to be at Eliza's by six o'clock sharp, and I can't afford to let this weigh on me while I'm with her.