Chapter 7: Family, My Greatest Headache

(Anthony’s POV)

Bethany, how pretty her name is. I really hope this isn’t a bad idea bringing her into my world. Do I tell her I’m a mafia boss? A warlord? A drug lord? That I kill for a living? Maybe I should wait until she gets used to her new life. Yes, that’s a wise idea. She’s not someone I want to lose. She’ll be a benefit to me and my endeavors.

I glance over at her while speeding in and out of traffic. My only concern is that she’ll find out who I am before I can tell her and explain it at all at the right time. I guess that’s a problem for another day.

Why is she so quiet? I thought she’d be hard to shut up. Most women like her have a million questions, employees or not. The second a woman finds out I have money. Or I have the ability to travel anywhere. It's startling and calming all at the same time. Am I being played?

Peeking over at her, I find her resting her head against the window, eyes closed.

Maybe I shouldn’t bother her. After doing a brief background search on her last night, I found out that she’s lived a rough life up until now. Why do I have to be sentimental? Why do I care so much? I’ve never had feelings like these before…

Most importantly, how would I protect her from Uncle Rocco? He’s a resourceful b*stard. I hate that I call him Uncle. He is no blood to me anymore. Not after what he did. Not after the destruction he brought to my life.

A hand resting against my arm startles me back to the present. “Anthony. Sir? Are you alright? The is green again and you’ve already sat through it once. You seem distracted.” Her sweet gentle voice. F*ck I'm a goner.

“I’m fine, Bethany. Beth? Which do you prefer? Just thinking about business.” I lie my way through, successfully redirecting the conversation.

“Oh. um… well…” she stutters, cheeks flushing red. “Normally people call me Beth but if you always promise to call me Bethany with that accent of yours, I’ll accept Bethany.” How precious. She’s attracted to not only me but my voice. Did this poor thing never get a chance to explore other cultures growing up? Doubtful.

“It would be my pleasure to refer to you as Bethany,” I answer back with a wink. She blushes further and turns back toward the window.

“So, are you really Italian?” She asks, hesitation clear in her voice.

“Nope, not at all. I just learned the accent out of sheer boredom and now I can’t seem to lose it.” I joke with a laugh. Seriously. This might be a good change having her around. Before she can apologize, I knew it was coming. I continue to speak, “Yes, I’m mostly Italian. I was born in Italy but moved over with my parents when I was nearly five. I had a bit of an interesting upbringing that influences my life today.”

I needed to stop talking before I say too much. Thankfully though, we’d reached her apartment. I hand her a slip of paper with my phone number on it. “If you need anything please call me. Remember don’t dress up on Monday. Keep it mostly casual.”

She nods and climbs out, waving as I drive off. Now to take care of business. Beyond the large city of Chicago, the warehouse district sat. Easy place to take care of business when business is called.

I pull up outside the old run-down warehouse and pull a pistol out of the glovebox. Had I been aware of my current plans, I would have been better prepared. I suppose this would have to do though. Tucking the gun into the waistband of my pants, I make my way into the front entrance.

Uncle Rocco has three of my men on their knees preparing to kill them executioner-style. Fury boiled my blood and I pause to breathe. Losing my temper now will not help anyone in this situation besides Uncle.

“Welcome my dear, beloved nephew! How goes the business? I wouldn’t know. You keep me out of the loop so often it’s almost as if you’ve forgotten that we are family.”

I step forward and cross my arms over my chest. “Says the old balding fat man that has made it his mission to ruin my business and my life. Cut the sh*t, Uncle Rocco. What do you want from me? You aren’t getting my businesses. Neither of them.”

I examine the men on the ground. Thankfully it's the idiots from the club the other night. They were already on thin ice with a noose around their necks. “You don’t look worried about your boys here, Anthony. Get out of Chicago and I’ll leave you alone. This is my turf.”

I take a few steps forward and Uncle pulls back the hammer on the pistol he’s holding. “Two more steps and I blow fatty’s brain to bits.” They are gagged but I know they were begging – I can see it in their eyes as they stare up at me. Did I care enough? One of them tried to harm Bethany the other night after all.

“What makes you think I give a f*ck? Besides, this is my turf. You invaded me. I left Italy and you followed! I will not leave. You do not control me anymore. Face it, old man. Your legacy is dying, and you are still clutching it to you without an ounce of strength remaining. Give up.” I raise my arms in the air, shaking my head.

“Boy, you walked into one of my dens willingly. If anything, you are feeding the hungry wolf.” Uncle says with a movement of grandeur as if he were proud of the decrepit building we are standing in.

“You think I came alone? That I didn’t forewarn anyone else of my actions? That I’m not tracked every moment of every day. Use your head, Uncle Rocco. We are living in the 21st century. It isn’t the 1900s. Grow up.” I mock him with a snide grin.

Uncle responds by blowing the brains out of the three men in front of me. Staining my new suede shoes.

“A**hole. Now I have brain matter on my shoes. Thanks. Do you feel better after your temper tantrum?”

Uncle doesn’t respond to me. He simply turns the other way, and storms out of the warehouse, kicking my car on the way. Child. He’s an old child. I pull off any identification they may have had on the bodies and call Griffin on my way out of the parking lot.

“You need help with clean up?” Griffin asks, through what sounds like a mouthful of food.

“No, let Rocco do it. At least I no longer have to deal with the three that tried to kill Bethany.” I sigh and speed off back toward my house where I know Griffin is likely at.

“I think I’m going to go crazy. Why did I let you convince me into hiring that girl, Griffin?” I groan into the phone. Now worried even more about her safety and my sanity. Wait…why am I worried? I just met her. I can't just have feelings because she has an adorable face. Slapping myself, I say, "Snap the f*ck out of it, Anthony."

“Unlike you, I plan ahead. You’ll thank me in a couple of months for this. We’ll talk more when you get back to your place. I have food waiting for you.” Griffin answers me back.

Well, better than nothing. At least I can count on Griffin. Even if he worms his way out of answering my questions.