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My family home has never been a place of fond memories, and now as I walk up the three stone steps that lead to the door, I can feel the dread doubling in my gut. I don't let it register on my face, not when I know Babbo will use any weakness he can to try and tear me down again.
I ring the bell and wait for the help to come let me in. There are no pleasantries exchanged, just a simple head nod between myself and the maid as I slowly walk into the house and down the long hallway.
I stop in the library, thinking my father would be there, but I don't find him. Instead, I find myself walking even further into the house. Every corner another memory of when my father made me feel like I wasn't good enough, that I couldn't cut it being his son. This entire place is just another reminder of how truly I don't belong here.
"We have company." I hear a deep voice speak out, and I let out a rushed breath. He's at the table. The back room where all the Bianucci family come to meet and discuss business. A place I never wanted to step foot.
Making my way up to the heavy double mahogany doors, I knock twice and wait. "Come in, Vittore." My father beckons. I push open the door and take one step into the threshold. I feel as if I might break out in hives at any minute.
Thankfully, it's not the whole family here but just my oldest sister Christine and my father at the table.
"What do you want?" Babbo snarls, not even looking up from the papers and tablet he has spread out in front of him.
My eyes scan the scene, and my eyebrow hitches up when I glance in the corner of the room and see the actual throne my father wanted. The one that was so important from the Isley estate. It's perched in the corner like a decorative piece, his jacket draped across it like it's a piece of furniture he picked up in Ikea or something.
"You going to stand there all day, or are you going to speak?" Babbo finally jerks his eyes up to meet mine.
I clear my throat and begin, "I'm here to find out if there's something I need to know about the deal with Stella and Chance?" I fold my hands in front of my body, not wanting to come off as disrespectful in the least.
"What do you mean agreement? I told you that you could keep them, that's the end of our agreement." My father leans back in his chair and glares at me.
"True, that is what we agreed, but we were attacked the other day in the middle of an island where no one should've known where we were. It wasn't a typical assassin either, so I know the bounty on her head is still clear."
"Sounds to me like all your problems didn't just disappear because she got a nose job and ya'll jumped on a plane." Christine remarks coldly from where she's sitting.
My eyes slam toward her, and as always, I can't read anything on her face. There's no concern, no disdain, no amusement. It's as if she couldn't care in the least that her nephew could have been killed, let alone her brother and my wife.
"I never thought my problems would disappear, but it's been too soon for people to start finding me unless there is something more going on." I snap back at her. Babbo is the only one I care to respect; my sister can go to hell.
"Don't know what to tell you, Vitto. You're a hot commodity. Not only are you responsible for getting rid of the Isley family, but you have a skill set that most families are hard up to find."
"I killed the Isley family?" My eyes open wide, and I look back over to Christine, who is continuously flipping through paperwork. Has she not admitted to having any part of the massacre that went down at that house? Of course not.
I focus my attention back on Babbo, "True, I took out the Isley family on orders from my own family. It's what we needed to do to thrive. As for my skill set, I'm retired."
"Retired!" Babbo's eyes widened before he threw his head back and cackled to the sky. "You think you can retire without my say so. Oh no, son, you're still my hired gun, and until I no longer have a use for you, you will continue to do what you do well."
I grind my molars so hard I'm sure I've cracked at least one of them, "I have a family to care for now, and I can't depend on any of you to help me with that."
"I told you that you could keep them, but that didn't mean I would coddle you or the bitch and her little mutt of a child."
In pure instinct, I jerked forward as if I was about to launch myself over the table at my father for talking about Stella that way. The click of a gun lets me know that was a very bad idea. My eyes jerked back over to Christine, who is no longer looking down but has the business end of a desert eagle pointed in my direction.
I clamp down on any surge of emotions I might have. I know for a fact that my sister will blow a new hole in my head if I even attempt to attack my father. I guess that level of loyalty is still strong between us.
So much for thinking she'll have my back again.
"She's not a bitch, and he's not a mutt. He's your grandson, my heir. I'll do what I have to do to protect both of them," I reply.
"Then what are you doing here with me. You know what you need to do," my father shrugs his shoulders, completely unfazed by what's going on.
There's no use arguing with him. I'm not going to get anywhere.
"I just want peace. I want to give Chance a life I've never had, can't you understand that?" My words are laced with a sentiment I'm sure my father finds weak, but I no longer care about his approval. I don't need anyone's approval but that of my own small immediate family.
"Peace?" Babbo looks up at me again, but this time there's no humor on his face. Instead, it's nothing more than hard rage.
"You gave up your chance for peace the moment you took in your first breath. The moment you were born with the name Bianucci, you became what I wanted you to be. A tool, a weapon, a step towards greatness. If you're smart, you'll put your son on the same track I put all of you on. Teach him our ways, send him off to do his task and make him the best that he can be to strengthen our name."
