“Your old man lives in Italy?”
“Yeah.”
He shrugs. “Go for it. Just be back before one.”
I pause, surprised. I’d been expecting a lot more questions. Dante Mancini is usually seamless in the way he takes things in, efficient to a fault.
Nodding, I glance down at my watch before wiping my mouth with the napkin and standing. “You’re leaving already? You haven’t even finished your food.”
“Let’s just say this reunion is necessary.”
Before we flew out, I did all my research. Thanks to Google Earth, I know where his villa is and what the surrounding area looks like. And from the intel I gathered, he lives alone.
I was eight years old the last time I saw my father, but certain things about him never left me. He was a creature of habit and thrived on routine—everything ran like clockwork—and I’m counting on that still being the case. If it’s not, I’ll improvise if needed.
I grab the keys to the Bugatti on my way out. Dante didn’t specify which car I could take, so I went straight for the one I wanted to drive. With a whole fleet of luxury cars sitting in the garage, there was plenty to choose from.
As I head inland through the beautiful Italian countryside, my resentment toward my father grows. The scenery should be calming, but all I can think about is the imbalance. The life that cunt got to keep, versus the one he took. Everything my sister and I lost. And how those two versions of reality could exist side by side.
That all changes today. His retribution has been a long time coming.
I park the car a few minutes’ walk from my destination. I’m not stupid enough to leave it anywhere visible. I’ve beenin this line of work long enough to know better. I’ve never been careless or sloppy, and I definitely wouldn’t leave anything behind that could lead back to theFamigliaor me.
I’ve studied this area and have a fair idea of how it’s going to play out, but even the best-laid plans have a way of shifting in the moment. I can only hope my mother and sister are looking down on me right now, because I may need some divine intervention to pull this off. I no longer care how his actions affected my life. The vengeance I’m about to serve, the one I’ve carried halfway across the world, is for them.
I start moving, cutting along the back of the property, staying low as I cross uneven ground and thick patches of grass. The villa sits half-hidden behind trees and brush.
I climb the small incline, ease into position, and wait.
It doesn’t take long. Twenty minutes later, the back door of the villa opens, and an elderly man steps out in burgundy and white striped swimming trunks. A white towel hangs loose over his shoulder as he makes his way toward the lap pool.
I tilt my head towards the sky and mouth, “Thank you.”
The dark hair I remember is now salt and pepper, but his lean, sun-kissed body tells me he’s had a good life, and that only fuels the anger I’ve been holding onto for all these years.
His face has aged somewhat, and lines are carved deeper than I remember, but there’s still something familiar in it. Something that makes my jaw tighten the second I see him.
He drops the towel onto a nearby chair and descends the stairs. I wait until he disappears under the water before I step out of the shadows.
This is how he always started his day when I was a boy. While he did laps in the pool, my mother was in the kitchen, rushing to get his breakfast ready, because Godhelp her if it wasn’t sitting on the table by the time he walked back through that door.
I crack my knuckles as I stand at the foot of the steps that lead into the pool. My father doesn’t notice me until he reaches the edge and lifts his head, ready to turn for another lap.
As soon as our gazes lock, he does a double take. Water drips down his face as his eyes narrow, “Chi sei? Cosa ci fai sulla mia proprietà(Who are you? What are you doing on my property)?”
I don’t expect him to recognise me, I’m no longer that scared little kid.
“It’s been a long time, old man,” I say in English, hoping that’s enough to jog his memory.
He squints, dragging a hand through his wet hair as he studies me. The world feels like it holds its breath while he tries to place who I am.
“Domenico(Dominic)?” he finally asks.
“In the flesh,” I reply as I begin descending the stairs. I’m still fully dressed, boots and all.
“W-why are you here?” he asks, and I don’t miss the slight tremble in his voice as he backs away. He’s not so tough now.
I move in closer. He turns, trying to push off and swim away, but I’m quicker. I catch his leg and haul him back before he gets a chance.
