22 | a traitor or friend
Though she had been right. "She has been working for us for a year but I knew her since childhood," Antonio said without sparing me a glance as he tugged on his blazer but I knew better. He was complementing my motive for asking.
"Why?" he finally asked when I didn't explain.
I wanted to ask him the same thing. Why did you give her the job? Why do you trust her? How do you know her? "Just asking," I answered with a shrug of my shoulder.
But a look from him made me want to cower behind my blanket. It made my toes curl in fear and excitement—an odd combination for sure.
So I asked him my other question and completely disregarded the look he gave me. I decided to act oblivious. Maybe it was the hit in the head or the way he treated me, but I was getting more comfortable than ever and that, definitely, was a bad thing. A very, very bad thing. "Do you trust her?"
I was making a fool out of myself but I didn't let that stop me. He could just leave now if he wanted. He didn't have to answer but oddly enough, he did. Antonio Giordano, a mafia capo and a rumoured sociopath, was a man of few words. He was always in control. "You do not be on the top without having many foes below you. It depends," he spoke. (Don)
I stared at him, mesmerized by his beauty. The man was a full package and if not for the fact that he was a cruel killer. He was gorgeous and based on what I've heard, his IQ level was quite high too, just like all psychopaths.
"Now why this sudden interest in our maid?" he asked. I knew the question was coming but it felt as if I was doing something incredibly stupid because I was using my brain.
"Women are bitches who are nothing next to men. Those Bianchi's keep their women on pedestals and out of control. Francesca, you are a woman—which means a whore who is only born for men to pleasure with. It's the child you'll birth that makes you worthy of walking even behind us."
His words echoed in my head making me flinch and my husband noticed but thankfully, he didn't say anything.
Hence, I lied. "It was nothing. Just curiosity?" It came out more like a question.
I knew I could never lie to this man. He always found out. Personally, I believed I was a good liar amongst 'normal' people but within the Giordano Mafia, I sucked.
He threw me another harsh look. By now, Antonio was leaning against the table with his full attention on me. It was as if he thought I was hiding something.
"Go on, Francesca." I hated how I loved my name roll off his tongue. I hated the butterflies he gave me in stomach. I hated the idea of him.
"I-uh." A blush coated my cheeks in embarrassment and his staring did little to nothing at helping. "Mya and I talked last night."
Out of impulse, I glanced at the door to see no one was there before lowering my voice. "I know that no one talks business in front of women so I wanted to know if anyone told her but I don't think so 'cause she was surprised when we came here as if she didn't expect us to. At least me to make it. And she wasn't surprised about the attack," I rushed out.
I stopped to see his reaction. He was unemotional as always but with a tilt of his head he told me to go on.
"She seemed down by the thought of the men hurt. I guess I'm just being paranoid because of getting hit. I don't know." There could be hundred possibilities but I found it odd that she cared too much about the men and knew that I hit my head. Maids weren't supposed to ask or care about people in mafia. They keeps their mouths shut and their faces without a trace of warmth.
"Your bodyguard, Rocky..." I glanced at him in surprise that he was telling me something. I was eager to know anything. "...was not supposed to be there. The shot was to hit you in head but he pulled you down and took your place. A brave made man was he. He was a man of honour. As well as Silvio—died while protecting the Donna."
It was the first time I heard the Don praise someone. Antonio was not an emotional person but he respected the men who gave their lives up for the Family. I guess he was a good man that way—if only the torturers and killings and psychopathic behaviours were excused.
"Do you know who did this? What happened to Silvio? How'd he died?" I rushed out.
He narrowed his eyes at me at the mention of Silvio. It was as if he hated that man. But then, why put him as my bodyguard?
My husband didn't answer any of my questions. Instead, he told me to get ready. With a buzzing headache and a constant nauseous feeling, I didn't even want to do anything but I got up as fast as I could and did my morning routine. It did take longer than I expected though.
Antonio waited for me, surprisingly. He grabbed my hand and dragged me out when I got changed into a comfortable dress. It was white with pink floral designs.
I had a feeling Antonio was walking slower because of me. Maybe he cared that I wasn't feeling well.
Before we went inside the dining room, he spoke, "anything that happens in the room, stays in the room. Got it?"
It was an order and I wasn't an idiot. I wasn't going to blabber my mouth anywhere. I trusted Antonio enough for me to tell him my doubts. I wasn't going to tarnish the small respect he had for me.
His word was like the Godfather's. Even Raffaello had to follow his orders. I was no exception.
He dropped my hand as we walked inside. My hair was still wet from my shower and my cheeks were still rosy. I was glad the Don was here otherwise I would be too scared to be even in a room with four males. This was the second time we had bothered to have a family breakfast. It kind of felt normal.
"How are you, cognata?" My eyes widened when Costanzo addressed me. (Sister in law)
I gave a meek smile at the question but Antonio answered for me. "She's well, Costanzo."
He nodded at me. Omero hadn't spoken a word to me since I had got here and Dante didn't seem like he cared. Costanzo was the loudest and I was glad that he was there to make some conversation. At least, with me.
Omero was more of the silent type. He observed everything but spoke only when necessary, I assumed, but I knew he was smarter than he looked. The Giordano boys all had black hair and olive skin. They were all exceptionally tall too. They didn't need to show anyone that they were dangerous. Their dark eyes and stiff postures made everyone know not to mess with them and the fools that did, lived six feet under.
Mess with one, mess with all. That was the motto.
Mya came in bringing a tray of food. Her eyes were downcast in respect as she stood at the side after placing the food on the long table.
My husband, uncharacteristically, pulled me on top of his lap as he sat on the head seat. I stifled in a gasp at the gesture. I knew my face must've been beet red from the shower and him.
Omero didn't show a reaction whilst Costanzo just smirked. Dante didn't even look up from his newspaper. I found it odd that a twenty three year old would be reading a newspaper but I guess he could tell the Don if something was important.
"Mya." Dante finally glanced up. He had smile on his face, immediately making me stiffen. I knew it wasn't anything pleasing. It can't be because of anything I had said. "You've been working with us for a year yet you haven't ever had breakfast with us. Sit down."
"S-Sir," stuttered Mya before glancing at me. I gave her a look that said that this wasn't because of me.
Antonio's large hand covered my stomach and pushed me back so I was laying against his chest. I could feel his breathing beside my ear, making me flush.
"Sit, Mya. We just want to talk about your older sister," my husband spoke in his usual cool and calm voice.
My ears perked up at the mention of someone new. What did Mya's family have to do with all this?
Mya's eyes widened as she carefully placed herself few seats away from us. I could see her fidgeting and shaking. There were tears in her eyes already as if she was hiding something and was finally caught. "Did I do something wrong?"
Costanzo chuckled but it was anything but humorous. "Of course not. You can't do anything wrong."
Mya stayed quiet and so did I. I wasn't going to defend her if they decided to do something. I was nowhere near that foolish.
"Now tell me, Mya," the Don's chilling voice spoke behind me. "When was the last time you talked with Rosemary?"
Mya visibly stiffened. I didn't know who this Rosemary was but I figured she was very important—important enough for the Don to mention her.
"I-uh, can't." Her eyes were leaking with tears. I felt a bit bad even though I knew that she may have had a hand in the conspiracy. "She passed away, recently," she whispered.
There was a deathly silence lingering in the room. I was even scared to breath. My husband froze behind me and if not for me sitting on his lap, I wouldn't have noticed.
"I didn't ask that," he finally said. "What about her daughter?"
"She is going to go under the custody of Benjamin Peterson, her step-dad."
Costanzo, Omero and Dante were all quiet. It was as if they were waiting for Antonio to blow up and I sitting on him really didn't help my case at all.
"Why did you not say when she died?" Dante finally barked out.
Mya flinched. "I-I, she is in good hands. I didn't want her anywhere near the Family. Rosemary had finally given her the freedom. I couldn't just bring her back here." I was surprised with how determined her voice sounded but she knew better than to lie.
"The deal Rosemary had was with the previous Don. Once she died, the deal was over. Alessia belongs to us now," my husband ordered as his grip on my thigh tightened making me wince.
Mya's eyes snapped up in fear. "No, p-please d-don't. Her life is peaceful."
Costanzo lowely chuckled. The sinister smile on his face did little to sooth my fear. I had a feeling that I wasn't going to like this. "You give us her address and we'll be less open-minded with your death. Remember, we'll find out anyways."
Mya jumped at the cold words of the brother. I was still surprised Omero was silent. He was just lost in thought and seemed to be uncaring but his presence made things even more creepy. He just had that vibe.
Mya didn't speak. She was an idiot. My husband was going to find out anyways. He always did.
After a moment of silence, I heard a raspy and husky voice speak. The sound was foreign to me. "Eat," ordered Omero.
My eyes widened that he finally spoke. His eyes weren't on me but they were on Mya. He was giving her look of boredom. But Omero wasn't telling us to eat. He was telling Mya.