Silent love

Chapter 28

On the previous chapter...

"Mamma". I pressed, kneeling slightly to get her to look at me. "Who gave this to you?"

Her fingers curled into fists, and when she finally lifted her head, her eyes were wild, unfocused. She was trembling, her skin pale and clammy.

Then, her expression twisted, and she let out a sharp, slurred voice. "Go away".

I clenched my jaw. "You need to tell me who gave this to you".

She shook her head, her movements erratic. "Get the fuck out, you fucking loser".

I stayed put. "Mamma-".

"GET OUT!" she screamed suddenly, her voice hoarse, filled with something that made my stomach fucking turn.

I took a slow step back, my fingers flexing at my sides.

Something wasn't right.

And I was going to find out exactly what the fuck was going on.

ʚ YAQUELINE'S POV ɞ

The fresh air of France felt different from that of Italy. More familiar. Safer, in a way I hadn't realized I had missed.

The car rolled smoothly up the estate's driveway, the massive gates closing automatically behind us. I had Divine next to me in the car, her dark brown wig is pulled into a sleek bun as she took off her sunglasses and grinned at me.

"Home sweet home, huh?" Her voice carried that playful undertone I always associated with her.

I shrugged, my gaze fixed on the imposing house before us. "For a while".

She hummed in agreement, but before she could say anything, the door was already opened by a familiar figure. Vincent stood there, his broad frame just as imposing as ever, arms crossed. His hair is becoming grayer every time I see him. His gaze swept over me briefly, then over Divine, before he gave a short nod.

"Bienvenue". He said dryly. "Your father is waiting for you".
I rolled my eyes. "No hug? No 'I missed you, Yaqueline'? You're getting sentimental, Vincent".

The corner of his mouth lifted for a fraction of a second, almost imperceptibly. "You know I'm sentimental. Just not with words". I laughed and stepped out, Divine following with an amused expression.

Together, we walked inside. It felt strange to be here after everything that had happened in Italy. Federico, the Mancini's, the constant tension that lingered there.

The constant fear of not knowing what could happen next, was here almost gone. Of course everything is still possible. Especially since I am still on mafia grounds. But this feels different, more relaxed.

Federico didn't lie when he said that becoming part of the Italian mafia is different. You have to be more on your guard. Which is completely normal, since the Italian mafia is at the top. He has a lot of enemies, people who will try to take him down every time,  a lot of people who try to betray him.

The French mafia is more laid back. My father realized that he doesn't need a lot of alliances nor did he make more enemies.

My father sat in his usual chair in the grand salon, a glass of cognac in his hand. His dark eyes flicked up when he saw me, and for a moment, his rigid expression softened. "Ma fille". He stood up, wrapping his arms around me briefly before letting go and nodding at Divine. "Divine. Always a pleasure".

She smiled charmingly. "Monsieur Baudelaire".

My father gestured for us to sit and sank back into his chair. Vincent remained nearby, as always, but Divine and I settled onto the couch. It didn't take long before the question round was coming.