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“Mission?”
“Maybe that’s the wrong word to use, but it will help change our future.”
“What are you talking about?”
He looked away briefly. “I’ve waited for months to retaliate against the Vincheti family.”
“Why did you wait? Why not tear them apart?”
“It’s called patience, son, and the right opportunity. Continuing the war will solve nothing. Innocent lives will be lost and even I won’t tolerate women and children being killed because of our need for power.”
“Does that mean you have a plan?” I was pissed. Was the old man getting soft?
My father took a deep breath, moving to his full height. He was a formidable man, not necessarily in size but in stature. I hoped to command a room like him one day.
“One that will bind us together and stop the bloodshed.”
“Bind us together? Why in the fuck would you want to do that?”
“Don’t you raise your voice to me. I am still your father!” He pointed his finger at me, fury in his eyes.
“Yes, sir.” I knew when not to cross him.
He moved to the couch, grabbing his jacket. There was a small bag positioned underneath it, bright red foil with a silver bow. What the hell was he planning on doing?
“I’m making a business arrangement with Cesare Vincheti. Before you say anything, I assure you that it will be lucrative for our family. It’s also in everyone’s best interest.” After putting on his jacket, he brought me the bag. “This is a gift for Giada Vincheti. She’s turning thirteen today. You will keep her company when I propose my plan to Cesare.”
“I don’t want to spend time with some kid.”
He moved even closer, staring me in the eyes. “Ty budesh delat, kak ya skazhu!”
You will do as I say.
My father was from the old country, while I’d been born in the States, often abhorring our family heritage. He’d forced every child to learn Russian both in speech and in writing. His inflections indicated he wouldn’t hesitate to issue harsh punishment if necessary.
“Fine.” I grabbed the bag from him, trying to realize that my father never did anything without a significant reason.
“Now, we’re going to remain civilized during our visit.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will, my son. Within minutes of arriving, you’ll learn that sometimesmest’ luchshe podavat’ kholodnoy.”
I knew the term but was surprised he’d used it. Revenge is best served cold. He’d been formulating his plan for some time.
“Remember, be civil, Sevastian. It’s important for the future.”
* * *
Giada
“I look like a fluffy princess.” I glared into the mirror, making ugly faces. “My God, I’m not a child. What the hell was Mother thinking buying me this damn dress?”
Isabella laughed as she continued to fluff my hair. “No, you don’t, silly. You look beautiful. And you better shush. You don’t want Papa to hear you cursing.”
I glared at her with fake hatred.
Beautiful described my sister. She was tall and lanky, her long dark hair silky, not the mass of curls I’d been born with. Our mother once told me I’d come out of her womb with a full head of hair. She should have shoved me back inside, asking for a different daughter. I was an ugly duckling. Even though no one had told me that in the family, they didn’t have to. I was picked on and bullied at school, at least until my classmates were told who my father was.
