“I’ve found Zane’s first opportunity for initiation.” My father breaks the silence – albeit speaking to me through the daily tabloid, but still, my perfect morning bliss was just ruined. When I don’t reply, he lowers the paper before folding it back up and placing it down onto the empty table space beside him.
“What’s that?” I ask. I deliberately stab my fork into a chunk of melon and look at him before I take a bite.
“You’re testing me,” my father comments dryly as I begin to eat without the others arriving first.
“And they’re testing my hunger,” I state and eat the rest of the fruit.
I know I’m being disrespectful, but I’ve been up since the crack of dawn pacing, and I cannot stand to wait any longer for them to arrive so I can eat. It’s our usual tradition to wait for everyone before we eat, but I’ve not had to deal with tradition for a long time, so this is all too foreign for me. However, as I continue to eat my way through the fruit salad before me, I can feel my father’s eyes burning fiercer into me. I take a few more mouthfuls before I cave and say something.
“Look,” I say, dropping my fork into my fruit bowl. “What’s happened between us isn’t just water under the bridge, Sal. It’s far from that.” I can feel my throat begin to close with rage. It’s as if my body’s trying to save me from saying something I’ll regret. “If you can remember, I found out your dirty little secret. You led me to believe that I was killing people who threatened the family, but a good ninety percent didn’t. You exploited me and that to me is unforgivable.”
“Breakfast table politics going on already, I see,” Carlo states as he finally walks into the room dressed in nothing but slacks. Manuel trails not far behind him.
“Ah, tension with my toast,” Giovanni comments entering after. “This, I haven’t missed.”
I roll my eyes and reach for my coffee. If I’m going to have to deal with that idiot, I want to have a sufficient amount of caffeine circulating in my veins. Right now, my irritation with him is soaring, and I can see us clashing before everyone’s settled.
“I thought I’d get our guests up and wait for them,” Enzo mentions as he comes into the room, Zane and Lorenzo trailing behind him. “Seems we almost missed the best stuff.”
“Your sister decided that she couldn’t wait,” our father announces, sitting back and offering me a pointed look.
“I heard you go out at barely six AM, Lia, what was with that?” Enzo jumps in.
Apparently, my sleeplessness was noisy.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I comment nonchalantly and go to stab some more fruit. “Guess my body’s not caught up on the time differences.” I can feel Zane’s eyes on me, and from my peripheral, I can tell he has a worried expression on his face. I want nothing but to enjoy the concern he has for me, the proof he cares, but I’m still pissed at the turn of events. “Now, are you going to stand or sit and eat?”
I hope to God that Manuel will come and occupy the seat to my left and Enzo will do the same on my right. However, just as my luck would have it, I am stuck between Zane and Lorenzo. I reach for my cup of coffee again and drain the entire contents in one swift gulp.
“Buongiorno, Bella,” Lorenzo greets, leaning in to kiss me.
I move my head, making sure he catches my cheek and then I push him off. In response, I hear Zane growl, especially as Lorenzo doesn’t relent. His hands become clingy as he puts his arm around my chair, trying to keep our proximity closer, but I put a hand square to his chest and push him away.
Tension with toast, I think wryly. Sometimes I hate agreeing with Giovanni.
“Need a refill?” Zane asks, reaching for the pot of coffee to pour himself a cup.
I nod and swallow the hot liquid and set my cup down. “So,” I pipe up, watching carefully as everyone looks at me. “Zane’s first job,” I trail off, leaving my sole attention upon my father. “What is it?”
“Do we have to discuss this over breakfast?” my father asks, backpedalling on his comment from earlier.
“We used to,” I counter, pursing my lips with impatience. I raise one eyebrow and shift so my weight is more forward than before. I place my elbows onto the table, situated on either side of my bowl of fruit, and I clasp my hands together as I stare directly across the table to my father. “I’m curious, so enlighten me, Papà.”
I see the exasperation flame across his face. He wanted me to call him Papà yesterday, but I’ve only used it laced with sarcasm, and apparently, that isn’t what he wanted either. I feel the niggle of delight as I watch him wage an inner war with the need to punish me and the need to deliver the game plan.