“I should beat your fucking ass for the shit you just pulled!” he shouts as he digs his pudgy digit into my chest. He is seething to the point of trembling. I knew this was coming, it was only a matter of time before he found out about my new employee.
“I will warn you once, get the fuck off of me.”
He grits his teeth, still trembling from “Or what?” he says, unintentionally splashing his disgusting, warm saliva on me.
“Or I will toss you through the fucking windows that line my office and put on a show for the busy city folk outside, that’s fucking what.”
“You have a lot of fucking nerve, you know that?” He removes his finger from me, heeding my warning.
“Do I, now?” I snicker. “Can’t fault me, Father, I learned from the best.”
“Stop playing games!” he shouts, flustered. It’s so easy to throw him off his game. “I’m talking about the fucking nerve you have for inviting a Ricci into this establishment, and not just any Ricci, Sienna Ricci. Have you lost your Goddamn mind, Son?!” He lifts his finger once more in my direction.
I click my tongue, warning him that I make good on my threats. He lays another finger on me, and he is roadkill. “I made sure to have the windows cleaned for today, it would be a shame for your body to make smudge marks as I crash you into them.”
Heeding my final warning, he lowers his hand.
“And don’t call me ‘son,’” I snap.
“Whether you like it or not, Carmine, that’s what you are, my son. You are a Moretti; she is a Ricci. Morettis and Riccis do not mix … not anymore, anyway.”
“Yes, I remember, Armando. Thank you for the adorable family history lesson. Now, would this be before or after the Riccis decided you were an abusive flight risk that they no longer wanted to associate with?”
“Is that why you brought her here? You think she is going to save you, Son?” He laughs. “You’re more delusional than I thought. Shit, you need to snap out of it. She is just as evil as her parents and those fucking Marinos.”
“Don’t you dare talk about the Marinos, you hear me? They were more of a family to me than you have ever been. Fuck, theyaremy family. Do not punish them for trying to take care of the messes you made.”
He flinches slightly, and I can tell that I am starting to get to him. All these years, he has convinced himself that he has been wronged, when it was him who has been in the driver’s seat of this train wreck.
I wait a moment more, giving him a brief window of opportunity to redeem himself, or at the very least, own up to what he did to get to where we are now. But just as I expected, he says nothing.
“That’s what I thought. Thing is, all these vendettas you have created that paint everyone the villain except yourself, well, they are getting in the way of what I want.”
He coughs, clearing his throat before finally speaking, “And what do you want, Son?”
My blood boils once more at the wordson. Would a father who loved his son treat the mother of his child like a punching bag or go after anyone that tried to protect her from his wrath? Would a good father manipulate and kill anyone or anything that brought his son happiness? The answer to all the above is no. Because Armando Moretti is many things, but a good father is most definitely not one.
I step toward him, my jaw tense. Rage consumes every cell in my body. “What I want, is you gone. From here, from my life, forever.”
“Let me remind you of the mess I saved you from, Carmine. The gift I gave you, a second chance. I gave you power, and all I asked was that you dissociate with anyone I perceived to be an enemy. The Riccis and Marinos both being enemy number one,” his voice begins to crack, as has the weak foundation he has built his lies on.
“You didn’t save me. You ruined me, and now, I will give you one last warning to drop your unjust vendettas, or you will force me to do so myself.”
He steps away from me, sitting down at the chair by my desk. Sudden concern washes over his face. “What did I do to deserve this?” An unexpected sadness cracks in his voice.
I don’t let the false display of emotion fool me. Even when he appears sad, it’s usually just to manipulate whomever he is trying to fool. He has fooled many, but he has never had that ability with me. Not then, and certainly not now. If he feels sadness, it is not for the carnage he has created. Whatever remorse his conscience allows him to feel is for himself, and himself only.
He stares out the window as I go to sit at my desk chair, blocking his view as I bring him back to the harsh reality of the mess he has created.
I snap my fingers in front of his zoned-out face, redirecting his gaze from the window back to me. “The fact that you question what you did to deserve what I have now set in motion is fucking comical. Shall I remind you of what you have stolen from me? What you have forced me to become?”
“Everything I have done is to protect you. To give you the power you deserve,” he says trying to defend his inexcusable actions.
“You got me there.” I point at him in agreement. “I do deserve power. However, the power that is rightfully mine is on my terms, not yours. I am rewriting the script. I am the master; you are the soon-to-be-forgotten puppet. Now, this is your last chance, if you admit your transgressions against me, your own flesh and blood, maybe, just maybe, I will let you live.”
He looks to me with pathetic eyes. “I stand by my decisions. One day, you will see that and thank me.”
“Thank you,” I say condescendingly.
