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CHAPTER1
KILLIAN VIERI
SERENITA
When death comes knocking, it makes its presence known. It lingers as a promise of retribution for all your past mistakes and deeds. Waiting with the cold fingers of everlasting damnation, promising you an afterlife far more torturous than the one you left behind.
I sense it now, circling, waiting, anticipating and it angers me that I can do fuck all about it.
My gaze falls to the open window where the merest hint of a breeze makes its way inside, reminding me that life goes on.
The unusual sound of emotion disturbs the air, and my gaze falls on my sister who was named after the very place we wait for the grim reaper to show his face.
I offer no words of comfort. No assurances that he lived a good life because we all know those words would be empty ones.
“What’s taking them so long?” The irritated growl from my brother’s impatience switches my attention to him instead, and I wonder if he really expects an answer. It falls to our father to bother to try.
“He always was a belligerent bastard. He will die on his own terms and in his own time.”
Nobody smiles. Nobody reacts and nobody cares what he thinks anyway because Benito Vieri turned his back on his father many years ago and doesn’t deserve to crack jokes around his deathbed.
The door opens and we stare expectantly at the person who, of anybody present, deserves the right to her grief. Ariana Vieri, previously Torlioni, appears like a weary vision before us.
We stand and she smiles tremulously.
“He will see you now.”
Serena is the first to her feet and as she reaches our grandmother, she pulls her in for a hug and I watch her whisper something in nonna’s ear which causes the woman to smile, a strange twinkle in her eye being the only indication she likes what she hears.
It intrigues me and I catch my brother’s eye, knowing he has seen it too. It’s an interesting reaction from a woman who is about to lose the love of her life.
We have no time to ponder this because our father stands and says, slightly irritably, “Come. Pay your respects to your grandfather.”
He hovers beside nonna and it’s almost as if he doesn’t know what to do in the circumstances, which again is a strange reaction from a man who was brought up to cherish family above everything. I wonder when that changed for him because Benito Vieri turned his back on this family as soon as he was granted his freedom. Something I have yet to experience for myself.
Shade raises his eyes and I exhale wearily. It would be nice to respect our father, but we both lost that ability years ago. Not that he was a bad one, he just never measured up to the role he was set to inherit. Luckily for my grandfather, all three of his grandchildren share his own sense of duty.
Our father stops and glances at the silent woman in the corner who never says much, but when she does, we all listen. It’s almost as if he forgot she was there at all, and he stops and nods respectfully.
“Giselle, we should go in together.”
Giselle Matasso is our aunt and a far stronger woman than he is a man and the fact she has just buried her husband must make for an interesting Groundhog Day.
She stands and nods, serene and regal, as she moves toward her mother and kisses her respectfully on either cheek. Nonna nods and smiles and once again it strikes me how devoid of grief her expression is. Something feels wrong about this and for a man who likes to know everything ten steps in advance, I wear my unease beneath the countenance of indifference.
Once again, Shade glances my way and his expression of helplessness has been replaced by excitement, telling me that, as always, my brother and I are on the same page.
My father stands aside for his sister and as they leave the room, nonna says softly, “Follow them. He wants to see you all together.”
Shade offers Serena his hand, and she smiles at him with a puzzled frown, telling me she has felt it too. There is something happening none of us anticipated and as I follow them out, I stop by my grandmother and whisper, “It appears that my condolences will not be required any time soon.”
The only reaction I get is a small nod of appreciation and a soft chuckle from the woman who deserves all our love and respect.
“You are so sharp, Killian, just like your grandfather.”
She reaches out with a small loving smile and grasps my large hand in her small one. “Forgive him. He only has your best interests at heart. He always did.”
“I know.” I squeeze her hand, which shocks her a little because emotion isn’t something I care to show–ever. It causes her to chuckle softly.
