“Luca Marchesi,” the guard called out as he walked into the cell block. I looked up from the newspaper that I had been reading to see a chubby man in his mid-forties walking towards me with a clip board in hand, “Your sentence have been reduced and you’re being released.”
Unbelievable. He was aware that I had a four year sentence, right? Why would these idiots release me after only six and a half months?
I stood up from the table and raised an eyebrow as the guard approached me, “Is that so?”
“Unfortunately,” He responded curtly, “But it seems that you’ve gotten lucky.”
A low chuckle escaped my lips as I stared him directly in the eye, “I’m always lucky.”
For the most part, it was true. Being who I am, an Acerbi, I happened to get out of sticky situations my whole life. Even though I went under a different name to protect myself from being identified as a member of the mafia, I still relished in all over the benefits that came with my family’s name.
Once the guard releases me, I’m taken to fill out paperwork, still unsure what made them to decide it was time to let me go. It was barely eight months ago that I was in a crowded bar and stabbed someone in the throat with a broken beer bottle. Of course he succumbed to his injuries but usually that’s what you want to happen when you stab someone.
I sign the bottom line of the paperwork, smirking at the unimpressed officers in front of me, “Pleasure doing business with you men. I’m sure we’ll see one another again someday.”
As I exit the jailhouse everything becomes more clear once I see my father standing outside his black SUV and leaning against it. Of course he would have flown all this way to Spain to see what I’ve been up to this past year.
I had left Chicago eleven months ago indefinitely to get away from the nonsense that came with being around my family. My controlling father, naive sister, and most of all clingy fiancee whom I have no choice over. My mother is the least annoying of the bunch, but there’s things she can improve on.
“Marchesi, huh? You’re not proud of being an Acerbi any longer?” My father asks me as I approach the SUV.
“You’re capo, I assume you would have more important things to do than follow your son to other countries. Is this what your life becomes when you get old?” I snarl at him, annoyed by his presence and attempt to be dominate over me. That isn’t happening, no one dominates me, especially my father.
I can see the anger in his eyes and she speaks through his teeth, “Get in the car, Luca. We’re going back to Chicago. Alessandro has expressed concerns about you’re reliability and I don’t very well blame him. His daughter is sitting at home, not knowing where her fiance is and you’re in fucking Spain on a murder spree.”
“I wouldn’t call one person a murder spree,” I point out, getting into the SUV and adjusting my white t-shirt. Unfortunately for me, they don’t have ties in prison, but I prefer the more laid back clothing anyway.
My father gets into the SUV and slams his door before starting the engine, “I’m done with this attitude of yours. Sofia is seventeen, within the next year you are committing yourself to her and if you fuck this up you could get us all killed.”
“I swear you’re deaf. Have you not heard me the last million times that I tell you I’m not marrying that girl?” I slam my fist onto the dash of my father’s SUV and stare coldly at him, “I’m not a one girl kind of man. I don’t like having ties to anyone or having anyone as my responsibility, especially Sofia Romano.”
My father’s forearm is pressed against my throat before I get Sofia’s name out of my mouth and he’s red with anger, “You talk to me with respect or you will be the one with a broken beer bottle stuck in your throat.”
I try to chuckle but my airway is blocked, slowly causing me to become weaker by the second. I’m not afraid, however. The worst my father can do is kill me. It’ll happen eventually anyway.
Once he releases his arm he pushes his foot on the gas peddle, causing the vehicle to jolt. This man is quite the character, he’s amusing to say the least. He practically raised me without my mother having a say and now he doesn’t like the monster he created. Well, sorry for him but this is all I know.
The jet gets us back to Chicago relatively quickly and my first morning ‘home’ is a sick kind of nostalgia. This room has memories from my childhood, mostly bad. I spent years redecorating it and making it look different from changing the walls to a burgundy and getting entirely new furniture, but the memories of my father choking me or slapping me across the face remain regardless of how much I redecorate.
The dark walls cause the room to be dark enough, my drapes are down and the room is practically pitch black, just how I like it.
A knock on my bedroom door interrupts my disturbing comfort and the door cracks open before I even respond, my mom’s voice following, “Luca, honey. Can I come in?”
“Is there even a point asking now?”
She doesn’t say anything but when the door opens fully I can see the sadness on her face, “I’m sorry, I was just excited to see you.”
I sigh softly, sitting up in the bed and forcing a little smile at my mom, “No, I’m just tired... Come on in. Lets catch up.”
She seems relieved and almost excited that I invited her in. Once she steps inside, she closes the door behind her and makes her way into my room, stopping beside my bed, “How was Spain? Did you get a nice break from everything?”
“Until my dear father showed up, of course.”
My mom’s eyes drift to my arm where there’s fresh ink. I had gotten a new tattoo less than a week ago, “More tattoos? You’re so much like your father, you know that?”
“I’d like to think that I’m far more handsome than he,” I remark comically, but I truly hate when my mother compares me to him. He isn’t even half the man I am, he hides behind his men while I confront a situation head on.
“You are very handsome, Luca. You don’t need my reassurance, I know that much... but lets talk about Spain. Your father said that you had been arrested under a different name.”
“Look, mother. I’m trying to be nice here, okay? But in all reality I don’t answer to you or anyone else, nor do I owe you an explanation. So let’s cut this chat short and both mind our own business, okay?” I snap at her, if there’s anyone I have patience for it’s my mother, but I have so much anger inside of me that even my mom can’t talk sense into me if she tries at times.
There’s just something inside of me that causes me to lack emotion of any kind, towards some people more than others.
The hurt on my mother’s face is clear but I could care less, it isn’t any worse than things my father has done to her.
She forces a smile and takes a step back towards my bedroom door, “I’m going to get a few things at the store. Is there anything you need?”
I shake my head no without speaking and my mom leaves the room. I refuse to allow people to make me feel guilty because they’re sticking their nose in my business.
When I get out of bed, I find my suits still in my closet where I’ve left them, but I choose black jeans and a white tshirt instead. As a family of the Mafia we’re supposed to make ourselves seem discrete but there’s nothing discrete about walking around in a suit 24/7. If anything, that’s just begging for attention.
I push my door open and from across the room I hear the sound of my twin sister’s obnoxious giggles. So immature, that girl is. Part of me is wondering if she knows that I’m back in town, I’m sure she would be thrilled. The last time I saw my sister I had her pinned against the wall with a knife against her throat. She has angered me for far too long and once she began telling my father anything she knew about my non-existent relationship with Sofia, I had to scare some silence into her.
If my dear mother hadn’t interrupted, I may have left a little scare as a reminder for her, but she was lucky.
Ariella is a lousy little bitch. Little to mummy and daddy, do no wrong and act like a fucking princess. It’s humiliating enough to be her brother, let alone her fucking twin. She and I are nothing alike, that I am sure of.
I decide not to bother her today, not at this moment, so I head down the large staircase unable to hide my eyeroll when I see Sofia waiting at the end. I swear this is becoming an unwanted welcome home party, of course my father would announce my return to Alessandro and Sofia.
“Luca,” She smiles as I near the bottom step, “My father said you were back. I had to come see for myself if my missing fiance had had actually returned. How was Spain? I traveled there to surprise you a few months ago but you’re impossible to track down.”
“You know, love. Usually when someone is impossible to find they don’t want to be found,” I stare at her, annoyed that she is so god damn naive, “Take a hint and get it through your fucking head that--”
“Luca.” My father’s voice cuts me off as he walks out of his office. His lips are in a thin line and his eyes say that he isn’t impressed. Do I care? Absolutely not. As he walks towards us, he smiles at Sofia, “Lovely to see you, Sofia. I was speaking with your father earlier, he said you would be stopping by to see Luca.”
“Nice seeing you, Mr. Acerbi. I certainly missed Luca while he was away and was hoping to catch up.”
“I’m busy,” I tell her before she can get her hopes up.
“You’ll make time for your fiancee,” My dad tells me, digging into his jacket pocket and pulling out a piece of paper, “Go to the new restaurant downtown. The owner owes me a favor, say Valentino Acerbi sent you and enjoy the evening. Luca has been gone for a long time, you two have things to discuss.”
This man gets on every last one of my nerves. Trying to dictate my life is one thing but he will never have the power to force some woman into my life. Nor will he push me to be around her.
A smirk tugs at my lips and my eyes are focused only on my father, taking my time to speak to him slowly but with confidence, “How about you mind your own goddamn business and work on your own fucked up relationship? I’m sure that you need it more that Sofia and I.”
If Sofia weren’t here, my father would probably have a gun to my head or a knife to my throat. The fire in his eyes is a clear indication that he wants to get his hands on me. My father and I have been in far too many altercations to count and I’m sure that wouldn’t end anytime soon.
I’m confident that if I weren’t his only son, my father would have offed me by now.
Fortunately for me, I’m his legacy and he needs me to be around whether he likes it or not. The only difference is, when I take his place a lot of things will be changing.
Starting with where he stands in this business.