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“Did you choose to learn from your father, or was it your father’s decision to have you learn all of these?” Aryana asked.
“I wanted to learn.” I combined the milk, sugar, and cream in a small pan and set it over low heat. “Although I could say it was a bit of both. Being part of the mafia means that we must always be careful. Hiring a cook would be easier for us but also risky. We don’t know which of our enemies could decide to slip one of their own into our ranks, and if we mistakenly hired one as a cook, it would be the easiest thing to poison us. My father believes ‘prevention is better than cure.’ He’d rather cook than allow someone else to prepare our meals. While my father wanted to teach me, I also wanted to learn to take over my father’s meals and ease his burden no matter how small they were.”
“That’s very sweet of you. Being the heir must be difficult.”
“It is, but I am used to it. It is what I grew into.” I said with a shrug of my shoulders.
“Have you ever thought of a life where you weren’t in the mafia?”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Then where would I be?”
“Anything. You could be a businessman, a painter, or a chef.” She shot me a meaningful look at the last profession she mentioned.
Was there ever a time I thought of not being in the mafia? I shook my head. Even with how stressful it could get with lack of sleep and constant planning left and right, I never thought, ‘What if I could not do this?’. It’s all I’ve ever known. Being a chef did sound nice. I did enjoy cooking and often saw it as a form of art, but it had never crossed my mind. The closest I could say I had come close to thinking about living a different life was when I just imagined living like this with Aryana for a long time, but even then, I didn’t discard my lifestyle. I still pictured myself as head Don someday.
So, no. I couldn’t think of not being in the mafia. It was my father’s legacy. I couldn’t and wouldn’t allow my father’s legacy to fall into the hands of another. I told all of this to Aryana.
She nodded thoughtfully, and I saw a brief sadness flicker through her eyes. What was that about? Was she sad? Sad about what? Was she hoping that I would say otherwise? But why?
I wanted to ask why she seemed upset with my answer, but with her father coming today, I didn’t want to dampen the atmosphere if the conversation ended on a sad note.
By now, we had put the cream and mango puree in the fridge, where they had to set for a couple of hours.
I told Aryana to go and sit down while I cleaned up and checked on the lasagna. It had already reached the one-hour mark, and all I had to do next was remove the foil, top it with mozzarella and parmesan cheese then bake for another fifteen minutes.
Five minutes had passed when my phone sounded, and I saw a text from Tony.
‘We’re at the door.’
We? Oh!
That was right! Aryana’s father was coming over. I had momentarily forgotten, my mind being at peace for half an hour.
I walked to the door, and before I opened it. I took a deep breath. This was Aryana’s father. He was finally here.
I opened the door and saw a middle-aged man in his fifties beside my second in command. He was pretty tall but not as tall as Tony and me. He was dressed casually, and I noticed a few gray strands in his hair. My eyes wandered down from his hair to his face, and I saw a couple of frown lines on his forehead. The reason why was made clear when we made eye contact. He stare was scrutinizing and unfriendly.
I was slightly taken aback, wondering what I could have done in three seconds to have received his hostility. I glanced at Tony standing behind Walter, ready to step in if needed. Tony shrugged his shoulders and looked away though he kept a side eye on the situation. I was tempted to roll my eyes at his actions that blatantly said he wouldn’t help. However, with how Walter behaved, I resisted the urge lest it causes any misunderstandings.
I cleared my throat and opened my mouth, ready to introduce myself, but I was rudely interrupted before a word could leave my lips.
“Where is Aryana?” His gruff voice demanded in an impatient tone.
I blinked.
So, this was how the meeting was going to play out? I hadn’t done anything he was aware of, and he already disliked me.
Fantastico.
Chapter 21
Aryana
ThesightIwalkeddown to was honestly not what I expected. I had gone to Alexander’s room to clear my head, and being surrounded by things that reminded me of him made me feel at ease.
I had come downstairs to ask Alexander if Tony had received any update on their whereabouts. I had reached the top of the staircase when I saw my father in the flesh standing inside the foyer. I was overcome with happiness and scanned his body, realizing how long it had been since I last saw him.
I would have run downstairs to hug him if not for the tension in the foyer. I took two steps before stopping when I realized no one was talking. Alexander stood before my father so that I couldn’t see his face, but I could see Tony’s expression of discomfort.
