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“How do you want the eggs?”
“Anyway’s the only way.” He shoots her with finger guns, before chuckling again.
“Coming right up.” Bethany scribbles the order on a sheet of paper and walks off.
“What’s this meeting about?” I enquire once we’re alone again. My father’s never been good at hiding his emotions. His sparkling eyes alone tell me enough. He’s put far too much thought into this; my marriage. “Last time we spoke, you called me weak and kicked me out.”
“Oh, don’t linger on the past.” Father rolls his eyes, clutching the cup of coffee in his hand. “Tensions were hot and you know how I get.”
“I do.”
“It’s water under the bridge. No point in dwelling on it.”
Water under the bridge – sure. If I wasn’t set to marry Isabella, I’d still be an outcast, and a black sheep –it’s easy to forget that when all he sees is gold.
“And anyway, I get why you’ve been so distant now, and why you don’t want the Braddocks to push too hard.” A smile tugs up at the corners of his lips, and a horrifying giggle accompanies it. “Because, you’ve known about all of this for a while now, haven’t you? You didn’t want me to make too many moves, because soon we’ll hold all the cards ourselves. I should’ve seen it coming, after you started acting funny. But damn it, boy, this is huge.”
He rubs the palms of his hands together, finishing in a clap that turns more heads towards us. A low profile, that’s all I want. Why is that so much to ask for? But, Oswald Braddock is always lost in some delusion, and it rarely involves logic or reason.
I take a sip of the coffee. It’s lukewarm, diluted, and bitter.
“Why didn’t we meet at the Falcon?” I scan the room. Apart from my father’s house, the Falcon bar is usually where business gets discussed. “It’s not safe meeting in open public, without any of your men.”
“You think any of these people would dare stand against the next head of the mafia?” Father snickers. “No, no, word doesn’t just spread among our ranks, Maddox. It spreads through the city. And now, by the end of the weekend, everyone will know what’s going down, and that the Braddocks are set to rule this town.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” I cut in.
No point in letting him get lost in another dream. I take another sip of the coffee. It’s bad, but good enough to quench my thirst.
“Sure it is, but when you peel away the layers of obscurity, it is what it is.”
Were those words meant to mean anything or was he just speaking in the hope of sounding profound?
“Look, let’s get this over with, hey? I’ve got a meeting soon.”
I don’t, really. Isabella Romani should be at the mall soon and I want to see her. Ever since The King told me what’s happening, I haven’t been able to clear my mind of her. Whatever cosmic tether guides me towards Isabella; it is only getting stronger by the day.
“A meeting or a date?” Father winks at me. A tremendous belly laugh erupts from him. “Well, what I’m actually after is for us to arrange a meeting between the Romanis and the Braddocks, to solidify this thing.”
“What’s the point of all that?” my eyes go squint, just like the blonde’s did earlier.
“My boy’s getting married. It’s tradition,” father shrugs. I suppose he doesn’t know the terms of this marriage, as I do. It’s not real, just a façade. A way to ensure Bruno’s throne is safe, while my son grows into a man.
My son. It’s a bittersweet thought. I’ll be a father, but what life will my child lead? When I was younger, all I wanted was a piece of the mafia pie. Age has tainted those goals and that vision, replacing them with a bleak outlook for my future. I achieved all I set out to do, and what has it left me with, apart from nightmares and blood-stained fingers?
“Right, of course. I’ll set it up.” I nod.
“Wonderful, then you get going.” Father slams his fist against the table in elation. Cups, saucers, knives, and forks rattle at the impact. “You send Isabella my regards, won’t you?”
I don’t acknowledge his last comment, but I’m also not going to neglect an offer to leave. I get up from the table, pat him on the shoulder, and walk the aisle. When I step outside, I see two of his men at the front door. We don’t speak, but they enter as I leave.
Of course, he didn’t come alone. He’s not that brazen or that foolish.
Now, on to the mall, to get my fix of whatever drug-like effect Isabella Romani has on my weary soul.
* * *
Isabella moves like a panther, steady, cunning, and agile. She slips between the crowds elegantly and without fault. I watch her from a distance, at first, but I can’t stop myself from nearing her. Dominic’s not far behind, as he always is, but after the neglect of The King’s staff – in letting her run – I don’t trust any of them. She’s too smart for her own good, and they don’t know it.
