Chapter Twenty-Four

Raphael

We set the meeting at a neutral Italian hotel downtown, low-key, an underrated hotel located in a rustic area where both sides knew our presence would not draw too much attention. A confrontation was looming, expected even.

Romano drove, and I sat at the front with him. He appeared calm as usual, unfazed, but I knew he was not completely unruffled; anything could happen in such situations, but we were prepared, but so will Antonio.

We drove in silence, soft music playing in the car, window completely closed; I could feel my anxiety, not because I was scared I wasn't scared of shit; but because I felt like I was losing some severance of my life like I was no longer the master of my fate.

There was no traffic; Diego drove the second car following the same lane making sure nobody overtook him; we needed to arrive together as a united front.

"Ready," I asked Romano before getting out of the car.

"I was born ready" His cockiness made me smile. "Are you? " he retaliated.

"I guess I was born ready too."

I noticed most of the cars in the parking lot were small and cheap, but three stood out.

"They're already here" I walked inside, franked by Romano and Diego; the place was full, people talking over each other, chinking of knives and forks as loud as the people.

The meet was happening in a hidden corner office in the basement. This dingy place must be a ruse for drug trafficking.

A skinny boy of about 16 years stood in our path, he looked scared, I could see his hands which he tried very hard to hide were shaking—he wore blue jeans, a grey t-shirt and worn out reeboks.

He reminded me of us at that age except for the fear. I can't remember a time when I was scared; maybe it's because I never really expected to live long anyway; I always thought I would end up dead, shot by the time I was 20.

"This way," His voice shook; he walked slowly in front of us, leading us to the meeting place. It was probably stupid of me to allow Antonio to dictate the location of the meeting. Still, I wanted him to believe he had the upper hand so that when I finally took over the power again, he would think twice before trying to blackmail or threaten me.

I did not try to tumble or harass the boy to walk faster, he was nervous and afraid already, but my feet felt uncomfortable walking to his pace. I was a big man with big strides, and so were the three men behind me; their grumbling and the sighs could feel their impatience.

"They're in here" His voice was completely broken and shaking as he pointed at the partially closed door. I could see he did not want to go inside, but he had to; he was obeying an order that I had no mandate to tell him not to be part of it; what puzzled me was why Antonio needed his presence; he was too young to have a seat among men.

There was no need to knock, so I walked in and damned it! The matherfucker had a whole house.

Antonio was sitting at the head of the table, and everyone else was standing around it; his declaration of power was palpable; he wanted to show me his power, that he was holding all the cards. Unfortunately for him and fortunately for me, the dumb bastard never learned to put all the fucking eggs in one basket; his desperation stunk.

All eyes fell on me. I become the center of attention; If stares could make holes, I would have had a dozen within the first minute I was in that room. I counted 10 guys on Antonio's side without counting the frightening kid; I couldn't stop wondering why he was in the room in the first place—he stared at me like I was the answer to his prayers and a hero rolled up into one, so did the guy standing awkwardly behind Antonio.

He was tall, dark-eyed, in jeans, a white shirt, and a court jacket. It was kind of unnerving to be looked at in hero worship, I wasn't anybody's hero, and I shouldn't be; my life was fucked up, but It was my life, the only life I've known; I knew who I was, what I was capable of and I would not trade it for anything.

"I see you're early," I said as I stood behind the seat on the other end of the table.

"There is a saying about an early bird," Antonio sniped at me, leering while turning to his guys, trying to show them he was the biggest fish in the room. I was worthless in his eyes—he was so convincing that one of his guys started swinging a fucking gun teasingly, attempting to point it at me.

I had a temper, suddenly I needed to assert my authority as well, and he gave me the perfect reason to put everyone in this room in their place, including Antonio.

I cloaked my gun and shot it out of his hand so fast no one saw it coming; it fell across the room. They gasped, following the loud howl that emanated in the room, silence descended like smoke, their eyes filled with awe, shock, and some with a defiant glare, and I stood in front of them in a fury.

"If any of you want to point a gun at me, do so without swinging it and subtly threatening me like I'm a child.

Antonio shifted anxiously in his seat, rubbing hands through his receding hairline. His eyes avoided mine; we were strangers after all. Every time he requested a meeting, I turned him down; that's not to say we had not met; we had stumbled on each other on numerous occasions but without a formal introduction.

Finally, we were face to face, the man I had avoided for more than ten years— he was older now, almost feeble, and if the rumors were to be believed, meaner.

My history with this man was deep and dark. He represented a dream I had when I was a child, those idyllic dreams I had built around him when I slept in a cold bed in foster care, or when I fought with the big boys for almost always eating my food; I dreamed of all the nice food waiting for me in my father's house once he came for me. But that day never came.

Instead, I found out that my father thought I was a mistake in his perfectly laid out plans. My mother wasn't supposed to be pregnant, I wasn't supposed to be born, and now the motherfukka wanted my help.

But such is life; here I was, young, rich, and powerful. I could buy and sell Antonio a hundredfold and still have more than enough to last me a lifetime, and he knew it. I had powerful people in my pocket to ensure my organization was safe from government scrutiny. I had built an empire from nothing but handwork, guts, and the need to survive, and I wasn't about to relinquish even a quarter of what I had, not to Antonio.

As we stared at each other, I saw a bit of nonna in him, but nothing of me except maybe his height; I didn't want to have any resemblance to this man, and I did not, but no matter how much I detested it, we were alike, I had joined, albeit unknowingly, his life. My father was a mafia don, and so was I.

"You have your mother's looks; she was stunningly beautiful when I met her" His tone was full of longing or regret, I couldn't be sure which, his legs were spread at the front, his hands on the table, looking lost for a minute, or reminiscing.

"You mean before you destroyed her life?" My anger was tangible as I thrust my hands into my pocket.

"She wasn't supposed to be pregnant; mistresses are not supposed to be pregnant; she broke the rules; why am I the bad guy in this story."

"Because you're the fucker who is asking her son to bail him out, you know, the one who wasn't supposed to be born!"

"I don't want your help, you conceited bastard."

"Then, why am I here."

"I have a business proposition for you."

"I thought you said you didn't want my help."

"We'll be equal partners."

"I have enough partners. So if we are done here, I have a busy schedule."

''You forget I know about Sophie. You're such a cold bastard it has taken years to find your weakness finally." his piercing brown eyes glowed at me; he was jealous I could see it. "I'm not the only one who'll use her to get to you; I'm guessing you realize that," he continued in a low voice, dropping his eyes from my face, rubbing his forehead continuously.

He looked defeated and humbled—life does that to people sometimes. I remembered how powerful he was when I started building my network on the streets, how often we crushed with his men, the bloodshed it wrought all over the streets, the friends I lost in the power struggle. It was personal; I just didn't understand it at the time.

"Sophie is under my protection, and nobody has the balls to pull her out from under my nose" Of course, I was being arrogant and egotistical; I had a traitor in my organization who was close enough to know I was sleeping in the same bed with Sophie. I had plans for that son of bitch.

"How many spies do you have in my house" my tone was rampant with rage. He wasn't going to tell me, but I had to ask; I felt like I was giving him a chance to pull out his trump card if he had any, other than my Achilles heel.

The afternoon was hoovering, the heat was becoming unbearable, and so was this meeting. If he didn't get to the purpose of it, I was walking out. There was silence, uncomfortable silence—one that just made me want to escape from the room. I moved my eyes around, looking at Antonio's men again as we all waited for him to speak; I already knew how each of them looked like, their appearance, demeanor, their dressing, those I intimidated, those who watched me in reverence.

I was a mystery to some people; most had only heard of me, I had built a fierce reputation, and as much as a part of me wanted to dismiss half of it as an exaggeration, it wasn't.

The skinny kid still watched me nervously from across the room, I sensed that he wanted something from me, but I refused to dwell on it. Instead, I scowled at the one who still had the same worshiping eyes from the moment our eyes met.

"Who are you," I asked him rudely; I was tired of being in this room; I was going to be combustive.

My question brought Antonio to the present; he turned his head, adjusting his eyes to the guy in Jeans who held my attention.

"I'm your brother."

"No, kid, I have two brothers, and you're neither."

He dropped his eyes from mine, looking dejected, but I wasn't about to placate him.

"He is my son," Antonio confirms.

"I figured"

Dropping to my chair, I leaned on the table, putting both of my hands on my chin, and fixed at Antonio.

"Why am I here? Except wanting to blackmail me into giving you money?"

"You're such a pompous prick. There was a time I wanted you dead."

"I know, but you failed, and now you're miserably sitting with me trying very hard to find the perfect words to ask me for money to bail you out of bankrupt, and pay the Salvatore family for what you owe them, and let's be honest, you owe them a lot. Do you find it ironic?" I smirked at him; suddenly, the meeting became interesting; I loved seeing this man humbled; I was enjoying his misery

"How do you know that."

"I know everything that happens, I know everyone who is selling their daughter or son into marriage in the name of strengthening family ties, I know those secretly fucking their associate's wife, and then there you! Killing your wife because she enjoyed a little more gin than the rest of us. Like I said..." I smile condescendingly, "I know everything."

He snapped, pulling a gun on me; I was first too, and all too soon; we both had guns pointed at each other. The room was silent, too silent a pin could have been heard drop.

"I could kill you right now, right here," I raised my brows at that claim. We both knew he wouldn't kill me; I was more powerful than he ever was or ever could be—he would need support from a few families to eliminate me.

I heard my phone buzz; I got it out and passed it to Romano without blinking, keeping eye contact.

"Look, I need help! Do you know how hard it is to come to you for help?"

"You mean using underhanded means to get me here? "

"It's the only way I could get you. I have requested a meeting with you a thousand times, and you've never shown. This is the first time you've agreed to—even after finding out the few times I have planned your assassination; you still did not confront me; the fact that you're here now demonstrates how deep you're with this woman. You finally have an Achilles heel. You're no longer invulnerable," he murmured before lowering his gun.

And so did I, causing a loud emitted sound of relief in the room. They were relieved, so utterly, overwhelmingly relieved that some chortled; it was everybody's guess the outcome of us shooting at each other.

I swung the door open, turned my eyes to the room one final time, "I will let you know my decision," I said as I darted out, followed by Romano, who was sniggering.

"What?" I asked, and he handed me my phone to a text message.

Hi Raphael, please buy me a notebook and a pen. PS. I need my phone back. Sophie.