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“Your father had your mother, but before her he was just like the rest of them. If your mother wanted, she could have taken control of it all. She had the genius, the foresight, the type of strength to conquer. Still today some people don’t realize it. She made it look easy; she was the first female Don of the Italian mafia. You’re a man: strong, smart, good-looking, rich, and dangerous. The position fell into your lap and that is not to take away from the fact that your job, your duty is impossibly difficult. It’s just to say the fact that you have lasted so long on your own is to your credit, but none of it will ever hold a candle to your mother.”
Fuck, this going to be long bloody speech.
“You sound like you were in love with her.” Which meant he didn’t realize she was still out there or else he wouldn’t dare talk like this, especially knowing my father would not let it slide.
“I was,” he admitted and leaned back in the chair. “But not romantically. I loved her like she was my daughter. Orlando and I grew up together. Whatever he needed I did without question because that is how it is meant to be and yet when it came to his daughter, Melody, I refused nine out of ten things he told me to do.”
“I’m surprised you’re still alive to talk about it.” I’d have killed him; I wouldn’t care if we grew up together or not. Tobias has been proof enough of that.
“He didn’t kill me because he wanted me
to see how wrong I was about her. At first I thought she was just a child, a girl, leave her be. He’d have her woken up and thrown into the pool, he’d have men kidnap her and she’d have to escape herself, he pushed, no, tortured her…broke her until she was so strong, she was barely even human anymore. Nothing affected her and she took the power right out of his hands. Everyone who doubted her was cut down mercilessly. Her rivals, she knew when and how they would come, and before they could even make a move, they were dead. Your grandfather was right, and I was wrong. He made a Don who could not be questioned and could not be stopped…and then he regretted it and married her off to some Irish ass…he ruined her,” he huffed in anger, shaking his head.
“You believe my mother became weak? Unable to lead because she married my father?” For some reason that comment bothered me the most. How dare he insult her? There was nothing weak about my mother.
“Yes.” He nodded. “It wasn’t her fault. She was raised to love and trust no one but herself and then all of sudden she had a family…and in this life our greatest weakness will always be our families. Your mother was great. But she could have been greater had it not been for your grandfather. The Irish wouldn’t even exist. Just us. The Italians. I know, complex connections…I hurt your grandmother and she lost her unborn child. I’m akin to the devil in her eyes. Just like your grandfather Sedric, is the devil in mine. He took my mother, my brother, and two of my sons. That is what I was thinking of when I went after her, when I ran her off the road. My family was the only thing I saw and it is by God’s grace she is alive. Orlando ordered us to scare them, rough them up, but I was going to kill her. I was going leave the same gape in her neck that her husband left for my children, but I was stopped. And I never got the chance again because Orlando and Sedric began their little truce. I never got my vengeance—”
“You claim you killed my wife. Excuse me if don’t play a violin for you,” I reminded him, seeing as he wasn’t going to break whatever act he was putting on.
“You’re welcome,” he said proudly.
“Our families go back, Fiorello, and now we are connected through a child…my child. So I’d advise you to start speaking sense—”
“Your wife or your daughter?”
“Excuse me?”
He looked me without fear and said, “If you had to pick one who would you choose? Your dead wife or your daughter?”
“I don’t have to answer that question.”
“No, because I made it a question that no longer needs to be answered,” he stated and again I felt the urge to bust his motherfucking head in, “Ivy O'Davoren. I was disappointed when I first heard about her and not because of Giovanna; it wouldn’t be right to blame you for a daughter you didn’t even know you had. In fact, I told my granddaughter you wouldn’t wait around for her, that you would eventually find someone. But Ivy O'Davoren? That woman would have destroyed you.”
I know. That’s why she’s dead. What I want to know is why the fuck you are here and not my real fucking wife? This why I don’t sit down and speak to old people, they never got to the damn point.
“I noticed you said my grandfather killed your mother, brother, and two of your sons, but not a wife. You seem have problem with marriage.” I changed the subject. Calliope and I didn’t get this far just to blab our secrets now.
“I’m happily married and have been so for a long time. In fact, from time to time I go visit her still. Her name is Siena and she’s been suffering from Alzheimer’s for some time. But the great thing is, we’ve been so close for so long, there is not a part of her memory I’m not in.” He grinned, and I put my cup down and looked him.
“This very long story to get to what I need to know,” I complained, rubbing the side of my head.
“How do you know what you need to know? Everything I’m telling you is connected. All the choices we made, all the things we did or did not do have led us to this table right now. I killed your wife and I detested your mother’s marriage in the beginning not because I hate marriage, I simply hate unbalanced marriages. Ivy O'Davoren was weak. You knew it, I knew it, everyone knew it. She was a baby bird on the shoulder of vulture. Your mother was a vulture and your father was like an eagle. But what was his saving grace? He grew…and changed. He became a vulture because of her. When she died, he held strong. Not like the Irish brute he was before, but like your mother would have wanted. Every time someone approached him I saw how he conducted himself, as if Melody was there beside him, and he held strong and taught you not to be like him, but her.”
Calliope I’m going to tie you to our bed for at least two days for making me listen to this old man’s rambling.
“I’m sure they would both be so happy to know they earned your approval. You seem to forget you aren’t the same as them. You were the help. What gives you the right to fucking judge my father?”
“No one needs to give me the right to judge. I simply judge. Like everyone else, whether they judge to your face or behind your back. The Italians didn’t believe in your father, but next to your mother they saw him change and accepted him even when she was gone. Why? Because they judged him worthy of that. He made himself worthy. Ivy? You picked her out of fucking prison, dressed her up and displayed her in front everyone and she won over no one. Ivy didn’t make herself, you made her. You dragged that poor girl out of her cell and put her in the most dangerous position in the world, next to you, somehow expecting she, who could not even save herself when she was innocent, could rule next you? I might have pulled the trigger, but you killed her.”
Again, I fucking know! I don’t have fucking time to hear him repeat this shit.
“Where is Giovanna’s mother?” I asked, done with this conversation. “And why isn’t she with Giovanna?”
He reached into his jacket, taking out a phone, making me want to kick myself for not asking before his great long speech. He pressed one number and then put the phone on speaker, setting it down on the dining table between us both. It rang once before the call went through.
“Cal—”
“Do you know what I have been thinking for the last five hours, Grandpa?” She spoke in Italian and I fought back a grin as I heard the annoyance in her voice. “I kept wondering what I should do when I see you. My gut tells me I shouldn’t make a big speech, I shouldn’t get upset, I should walk up and put you to sleep like a dog and move on. But then I have this rage, Grandpa, and that rage tells me not to let you off so easily and torture you a bit before ending you. What do you think I should do?”
