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Porter's stomachtwisted at the thought of his father arriving home. He paced back and forth, his eyes glancing out of his bedroom window, waiting for the tell-tale sign of headlights in the long driveway. Fidgeting with his fingers, he chewed his bottom lip knowing what was coming.
His father wanted him to take over, to lead. But he wasn't built like the great Gabriel Manetti. That man had a love of blood and death, while Porter was different.
As far as his father was concerned, he was a disappointment from the day he was born. Too short, too lean, too timid and, to top it all off, he'd killed his mother. That was the icing on the proverbial cake. The reason his father hated everything about him. The only solution, theonlyway to gain his father's respect was to become him.
But he couldn’t. Porter knew he was never meant to lead. He had no ambition for it. Just the idea of him taking command of a bunch of people made him queasy.
"One more night," Porter muttered to himself as he stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror. A dark bruise peeked out of the collar of his t-shirt from his father’s last visit home.
One more night.
The only problem was that he told himself that every single night. Porter had come up with countless getaway plans. He’d disappear and never have to see his father again. But reality was a lot more terrifying. He would only have one chance to escape and if he was caught? Well, that was the one memory he didn't want to relive.
Porter's arm ached just thinking about his last getaway attempt. He hadn't been crazy enough to try it since he was sixteen, but the man he called his father stepping on his arm and breaking it? That would live with him forever. Every time he thought of freedom, he remembered that horrifying night when his dad wouldn't stop.
The slamming of a car door jolted him back to reality. He was home. For three blissful weeks he had been home with nothing but his father's guards to occupy his space. Three amazing, carefree weeks. Of course he still had training. Gun training, knife training, combat training with his father's right hand man Michele, but it was better than being forced to participate in his dad's twisted games.
Porter brushed the curtain aside and glanced down at the sleek, black car that sat in the driveway. Any minute now he was going to hear his father's footsteps coming up the stairs and be questioned to death about what he had done, but more importantly what he hadn't done.
"Dad's coming." Amy slipped into his room. Her deep brown eyes, so much like their late mother’s, shimmered with worry. Her gaze scoured Porter and it was as if she could see right into his heart. "You look like you're going to faint."
"I might." Porter took in a shaky breath and he had to remind himself passing out wasn’t an option. He’d just be punished anyway, nothing could get him out of seeing his father.
"What are you doing in here? You need to make yourself scarce too, sis. You never know what kind of mood he's in."
She frowned. "You know he never does anything to me."
Right.It was only Porter that he detested. Amy was the light of his life, the firstborn. And if she had been a man, he knew his father would be happy. His sister had always been the tough one, the one to take charge. But not even she could save him from his father's wrath. "Really, you should go, Amy."
"It's going to be okay," she reassured him, wrapping him up into a hug. "Just...keep your head down. And whatever he wants you to do? Do it." She said the words firmly and he swallowed hard as she took his face in her palms. "No matter what it is."
They both knew he would struggle. At the end of the day, Porter was a coward. He couldn't hurt people without feeling like shit. How was he supposed to become head of a mafia family?
"Porter." The gruff voice shook him out of his thoughts and Amy released him. "Let's go."
"Hey, Daddy." Amy slapped on her award winning smile and bounced over to him before she gave him a hug. "Did you get me anything nice from Rome?"
His dark eyes slid to Amy. "Not right now. I'll spend time with you after I'm done with your brother."
Amy's smile faltered. "Hey, don't I get any attention? We should catch up first! I want to know-"
"Amy." He nodded to the door. "Get out."
She turned and gave Porter an apologetic look before she nodded and slowly left the room.So much for that. Amy was good at distracting their father at times, getting his mind off of Porter, but tonight it was apparently out of the question.
Porter's brown eyes stared up at his father. As usual, he was dressed in a well fitting black suit with a maroon tie. His black hair was peppered with gray and so was his beard. He towered over Porter making him feel even smaller than he was.
"You don't greet your father?"
"H-hello, Dad." Porter shuffled from one foot to the other. "How was your trip?"
"Difficult, considering the reports that I received from Michele." He nodded toward the door. "As I said before and won't say again, let's go."
"Yes, of course Father."
Porter didn't want to leave the safety of his bedroom. It was the one place that was a sanctuary against the blood and brutality of the rest of the Manetti home. As soon as he was outside of it, he felt exposed.
"Michele tells me that he gave you the assignment I outlined for you."
