“That was for your own good,” he states, unable to take the malice setting into his tone. It’s so fierce, it’s ripping through his throat, declaring domicile in every piece of his being.
I laugh again. “For my own good?” I’m not on the brink of no return. My own anger won’t subside with his idiotic fucking reasoning. He can’t defuse the bomb he detonated within me. He has to hear everything I feel before I’ll even begin to do his work again. He needs to let me explode or God help him. “Do you know how fucking unloved you make me feel? How alone you proved I was when Enzo or Carlo aren’t here? Between you and Gio, you sold me out when you even presented me to those men against my own will. A real father doesn’t do that to his own child who he professes to love.”
“I do love you, but I will not tolerate your behavior over this hit!” my father argues back, and it’s all so futile – I am not prepared to let him win.
“And I won’t tolerate being called expendable!” I blow, and it feels good to raise my voice and allow myself to be heard. Even though I feel my eyes blur, my vision swimming with my unshed tears, I don’t regret allowing my anger to truly show. These aren’t tears of fear or remorse. These are tears of unleashed fury that he has forced me to feel. “I’m a twenty-three-year-old killer who does everything you ask. The one time I trip because there is far more on the line, I’m called a delinquent. You have stolen my entire life from me, and you don’t even seem to care that I am lost beneath trying to be something you won’t ultimately end up killing off.” I harden myself, bracing my heart to admit its finest truths. “And you should know one important thing here before you even think of trying to pawn me off or dispose of me. I love him with all my heart – that I know for sure now – but for you, I will kill him. I will do that because I fear you, Papà. I don’t worship you or admire you. I fucking fear you and that’s all on you.” I exhale and feel it vibrate with my fury before filling my lungs again. “So, be happy knowing I will never love you. And don’t think that I remain loyally by your side because I want to be.”
With my piece said, I turn to leave, but feel something left unsaid. Something that will really drive more silence into the room than there already is.
“And if you want to know something, I will remind you of our mamma, because she was the only one who loved us enough to keep us from all this shit!” I watch as he resists the wince that erupts at my words. He grimaces a little but keeps a hard face on. “So I know from watching you how unessential we all are for you. I don’t need a reminder, thanks.” I await a response, but it never comes. My father doesn’t even show any signs of forming a strategic comeback or game plan. “Oh, don’t tell me I’ve rendered the great Salvatore Abbiati silent?!”
I’m not met with the response I expected. As my father’s face falls, defeated before me, I’m not feeling accomplished. “You had better be on your best behavior tomorrow evening,” my father warns. “Now get out of my face.”
With eyes twisted in familiar anger, I narrow my gaze upon him and hiss my words at him, “Gladly.”
***
I toy with the vial of poison in my hand as I lean against the bar. My house has been transformed for the grand dinner party. This that marks the forty-fifth year since my father became the new Don in the untimely aftermath of his father’s death. My father, himself, was only eighteen. At sixty-three, some say he should look at retiring and throwing the reins of power to Enzo. My father is fiercely against any such thing. While he is still of sound mind and his mere presence delivers the fear of a thousand armies, he won’t budge.
I hate the thought, because in his retirement, my life becomes free.
Enzo has already vowed to see that I live a normal life – Manuel too. Our freedom is promised in the world Enzo will create. However, the menacing look in Giovanni’s eyes tells me he will do anything to rid the competition so he can resume the world of hell my father has conjured on earth.
I know that Giovanni would sharpen any blade of whatever knife he first laid a hand on if it was to stab into Enzo’s back. If the day ever arises, I will leave and face whatever the consequences after.
“What’s that?” I hear an unknown voice speak.
“Trust me, this is far too potent for a man of your stamina to handle,” I joke and hide the glass bottle away in my closed fist, not letting him take it.
“I can handle a little extra in my drink,” he continues. How can he be this fucking stupid? They all know about what I’m capable of, yet he is incessant to find out.
I’m getting tempted to go against my father’s wishes and kill a new target. Resisting, I turn to him, seduction beginning to exude from me. I lift my hand up and run my finger underneath his chin, deliberately allowing my nail to trail along. “Believe me, Handsome, this is not made for you.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one to decide that?”