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Didn’t she love me? Had I read her emotions wrong? It was clear that she had feelings for me. Was it that her feelings for me were not as deep as mine, or was it too early for her? I scoffed bitterly to myself. It didn’t matter what. I couldn’t force her to return her feelings for me. It was clear she didn’t love me, and no matter how painful it was, I had to endure it. Whether she loved me or not didn’t reduce my feelings for her. I loved her and would protect her even if she didn’t reciprocate. If there ever came a time when she would want to leave, I wouldn’t force her to stay with me. I swallowed with difficulty at the notion that she would like to go.
As I walked through the halls of my home, going to my father’s study, scenes from my memories flashed through my eyes. Images of myself walking down these halls with my father appeared, along with other memories. When we entered my father’s study, I had to dig my nails into my palm to control my emotions. I ignored the eyes of my close companions and walked closer to his desk, trailing my hand over the shiny wood with gold engravings that spelled ‘Romano’ at the top.
To think that just a couple of months ago, I had been speaking to my father in this same place. My father had been alive and well, convincing me to leave his side and go into hiding. Now, I was back here, but my father was not. Only his ghost and echoes of his presence remained here. I looked up, and my breath caught in my throat when I saw a large portrait of my father hanging on the wall behind the leather chair my father always sat on. I walked over in a trance. It hurt to see my father again, and at the same time, it soothed the ache in my heart. I was filled with bittersweetness.
They had buried my father, and I couldn’t attend. I hadn’t been able to gaze upon his face one more time, even in death. What pained me was that the funeral had been a hasty affair due to increased hostility from the Saconne. I chuckled in anger. Even after killing my father, they couldn’t allow him to be buried in peace and given the grand farewell he deserved. Once I got a hold of Tom Saconne, I would make him beg for death.
Because of him, my family was reduced to such a weak state. I had to be taken away from my father’s side and hidden away, my father had been killed, and even his burial had not been conducted well.
“Alessandro?” I felt a hand on my shoulder, and looking back, I saw that Marcello had called my name with Tony standing right behind him. Aryana hadn’t moved from her position by the door.
I looked away from her. “I am fine.” I paid attention to my twofratellisinstead. “Have you contacted our men?”
I continued gazing around my father’s office, which was to be mine, as I waited for a response.
“Yes…” Hearing the uncertainty in Marcello’s tone, I turned to see him and Tony communicating with their eyes.
I frowned. “What’s the matter? Our men are coming, right?”
Seeing Marcello hesitate, Tony took over. “Yes. They’re coming.”
“Then what is the matter?”
Tony sighed in resignation. “They are not pleased with you,Alessandro.”
To say I was surprised would have been an overstatement. I had expected such. After all, to them, I had disappeared without a word and left them all to deal with the Saconne family. My father’s funeral was the first time most of them had seen me in a while. Of course. They would be dissatisfied, but I couldn’t allow them to feel this way if I wanted to secure their loyalty.
Just because I had been the heir didn’t mean they would automatically approve of me being the next Don, even if there was nothing they could do about it except kill me.
Tony explained and cemented what I had already thought.
“What will you do?” Marcello asked.
I shrugged. “There is nothing I can do except to regain their trust. I understand how they’re feeling. I wouldn’t be pleased if I were in their shoes.”
My men nodded.
“Contact me when they arrive,” I ordered my men. There was nothing left to do now except wait before officially taking my father’s position.
“Tony and Marcello will show you to your room,” I said to Aryana with a neutral expression. I didn’t know how to interact with her. She nodded at me, looking as though she had some things she wanted to say. Ultimately, she didn’t force out what had been on the tip of her tongue.
Tony and Marcello left the study with Aryana in tow, who gave me a side glance before leaving. I slowly walked to the leather chair and sat down with a heavy sigh. I hadn’t even become the Don yet and felt so much pressure. Several things ran through my mind. I thought about the ceremony I would need to go through to officially become the Don and how I would need to convince my men. My mind ran through my father's lessons as I thought about what to do or say before I closed my eyes and shook my head.
They were rightfully pissed at me. These were my men. Even after the death of my father, they still stayed. They didn’t leave when they had the opportunity to. They continued fighting for the Romano family. I would have to earn their trust once more.
A knock on the door jolted me out of my musings, and the door opened to reveal Alfonso, my father’s second-in-command. My eyes widened. Alfonso greeted me with a smile and limped forward, favoring his right leg that hadn’t been shot.
"Zio!” I rushed over to help my honorary uncle.
There were bandages around his left arm, but at least it was no longer in a cast. According to Tony, he was healing nicely. I was relieved by that, but a tiny spiteful voice in my mind complained about why he had been spared, but my father had not. I squashed the voice into oblivion.
“How are you doing,nipote?” Alfonso asked.
Both of us shared a sad smile. There was no need to answer the question. We both knew how I was doing.
“How are your injuries? I heard they’re better.” I changed the topic. I didn’t want to immerse myself in my longing for my father.
“It’s getting better. You need not worry.” He patted my shoulder.
