Bred In Violence (A Mafia Romance Book One) #𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝟏

Chapter 39

The first part of this chapter is written in the past participle, and the italic part is written in the present participle.

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Memory is the diary we all carry about with us.

~Oscar Wilde~

*Unedited*

Raphael

"I really don't have time for this"

I said as I walked away from Antonio. I knew I would have to help him someday soon, not because I wanted to but because I wanted him on my side, for Sophie's sake. I intended to keep Sophie with me, and that meant I needed allies, and Antonio, though his organization wasn't as large, counted for something.

"Figlio,"  I heard him say as I reached the threshold; I didn't look back; I just walked out of another meeting with him.

Walking away was my way of proclaiming myself as the leader, the boss. I didn't need him, he needed me, and he knew it.

The heat was unbearable this time of year; I imagined Sophie in her beloved short denim skirt, spaghetti top, and sandals.

I missed her; I missed her so much I wondered what I did before I met her.

Standing by the front door waiting for the valet to bring my car, I saw Romano walking towards me, his left hand hidden in his pocket while the right held an apple juice.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him, reaching out for my keys from the boy who held them; he hesitated, his hand trembling a bit, and our eyes met. I remembered him; he was there on my previous meeting with Antonio, the boy in worn-out reeboks and a shaky and insecure walk. 

I looked at him,  really looked at him. He seemed scared, and he was staring at me like I was his last hope.
"Get in," I said suddenly.  I didn't know why I did it, but I  thought he needed my help.

He scurried on the back seat, wearing the safety belt as soon as he sat; I guess he was afraid I was going to change my mind.

I wasn't; I couldn't do that to him. I may be a horrible person, but I tend to think I had empathy, or maybe it was Sophie's effect.

The way she pulled out money from my pocket to give to the homeless, or the way she fed the birds on our deck in Italy.

Romano sat beside me without saying a word, swallowing the juice so loud, provokingly, I didn't want to get into an argument with him at this hour and especially not in front of the kid.

"You killed them" I guess we were going to have the conversation after all.

"I didn't kill them all!" I shrugged, gearing the car.

"We were not going to let most of them live anyway," I said, pulling out the car. I hadn't slept for a while, and when I did fall asleep, it was for a few hours. I was back to my sleeping pattern before I met Sophie. insomniac

"Did you get any information before you killed them? "

"No! I wasn't in the mood to persistently ask the same damn question more than once," I retorted.

I didn't think having hostages in my vault, most of whom demonstrated their loyalty to their aligned bosses by insolently refusing to answer my questions, was beneficial to me. And I was damned if I was going to let them live.

The drive to the house was slow because of traffic; Romano didn't talk much after that last comment, neither did I; we just drove in silent companionship.