Of volume lineage

VI

 

Giova

 

Memories drove me from my sleep.

It had been a few years since the darkness of my past had controlled me enough to disrupt my rest. I had impressive control but even I couldn’t decide when my brain recalled the trauma it had endured.

Images flashed through my mind. The darkness of the cage, the blood ru

I ignored them until the memories disappeared into my psyche, to be forgotten until they decided to haunt me once more. Trauma was terribly inconvenient.

When it was half past four in the morning, I began my day. Gym, shower, breakfast. I was a creature of habit and maintained my rigorous schedule. Even my twin failed to match my self-discipline.

At exactly six am, Marzia came stumbling down the hall, hair in disarray. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Good morning, my darling. How did you sleep?”

She clambered up to the counter, mumbling something about a strange dream. I placed a bowl of cereal and glass of orange juice in front of her. I leaned against the fridge, coffee in hand, and watched her chew.

Suddenly she asked, “When you marry Isabella, will she live here?”

The engagement party had been the night before and Isabella had made quite the impression on Marzia. My daughter had carried napkins covered in drawings of dinosaurs all the way home and forced me to help stick them to her bedroom walls.

“Yes, darling, she will.”

“Where will she sleep?”

“In my bedroom.”

Marzia didn’t ask any more questions until she carried her bowl to the dishwasher. “Will she eat di

“Most likely, yes.”

Up until last night, Marzia had been very against having another person live in our house and especially furious about having a stepmother. I had even offered to let her stay home instead of attending the engagement party, but she had refused. She still wasn’t completely sold after meeting Isabella, but her curiosity was a good sign.

However, Marzia and her comfort came first. If she continued to hate Isabella, the Lombardi girl could reside somewhere else. I wasn’t risking my daughter’s happiness over some traditionalists.

After brushing her teeth, she asked, “Do you think she’s beautiful?”

I recalled how Isabella had look the night before. She had been dressed in white, the color stark against her olive skin and dark features. I had been surprised to find myself staring at her backside and bare shoulders. But beautiful? I suppose she was–the same way a knife was.

I could do without her temper, however.

“Not as beautiful as you,” I replied.

Marzia gri

The questions kept coming all through our morning routine. She asked about Isabella’s hobbies (I had no idea), how long she was staying (until she died), where she would put her winter coats (in the coat room). It wasn’t until I was wrapping her scarf around her neck while she shouldered on her backpack that she finally asked, “Will she be there for story time?”

There it was. The root of my daughter’s dislike.

My daughter was nervous about having another woman in the house. Her na

Perhaps I had spoiled her by keeping her to myself for so long. Her mother had died when she was barely a toddler, and I had never brought anyone home.

I crouched down in front of my daughter, taking her hands in mine.

Marzia squeezed my hands tightly. “Daddy?”

“Marzia, my darling, I know you’re worried that having someone else in our house will draw attention away from you or impact you negatively, but you and I are a family. You are my daughter and I am your father. Isabella will adapt to us; we will not adapt to her.”

My daughter pondered my words. I felt my lips twitch at the sight of it. Seeing her soft chubby face wrinkling together as her brain ran through her thoughts was something I had always found amusing.

Finally, she said, “I wish it was just you and me.”

“As do I, my darling.”

I straightened back to my full height, taking her library bag in one hand. “Did you pack your lunch?”

“Mmhmm.” Marzia peered up at me, blue eyes bright. “Do you think Isabella likes dogs?”

“You’re not getting a dog.”

“Oh, come on, Daddy. Pleaseee.”

 

 

The traditional families seemed more complacent after I agreed to some of their demands.

There was still distrust and dislike, but I predicted that after the wedding, when the memories of slaughter had faded and they had a Lombardi queen to worship, all would be well. I had been surprised when the engagement party, the first meeting of our two families, had gone over without any blood.

As a reward, I made Bartolomeo Lombardi my consigliere. Not only would this settle the tensions even more, but it would also create a larger barrier between him and his brother, Angelo. I didn’t trust Angelo in the slightest, the only reason he had bowed was because of threats to his niece and he had let Maria Lombardi escape.

Vitale, his wife, and heir had all escaped.

Keeping their daughter close was imperative. There was no doubt in my mind they would try and contact her. And when they did, I would be waiting.

The other bosses of New York had accepted my reign and acknowledged my hold over the territory quickly. It helped that I brought a present to the meeting of the five bosses: a man who had tried to kill my daughter and was working for the enemy of Pakhan Konstantin. Marzia had no idea, and she never would.

Two weeks later, my brother finally got in contact with me. Our conversations were few and far in between–Leo couldn’t risk getting caught.

“Congratulations, old man,” was the first he said.

“Do I need to remind you we’re the same age?”

Leonardo laughed. “It’s been a long time coming, brother, but you’ve finally got what you wanted. How does it feel to be a King of New York?”

“I’ve spent the begi

“We always knew the traditional families would be a problem,” he said. “How are you going to stop them from killing you?”

“I’ve agreed to marry Lombardi’s daughter.”

My brother choked. “What?”

“What’s so shocking? It is not unheard of to arrange marriages for peace.”

“Gio, you’re really getting married again? Have you forgotten how well that worked out last time?”

My first marriage had been a shotgun wedding, Ines already twelve weeks along with Marzia at the time of the ceremony. After enduring a childhood of being a bastard, I hadn’t wanted the same for my child. It didn’t take long for Ines to begin hating me. Despite allowing her to take lovers and keep her own residence, she had killed herself not even three years later.

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything. Isabella knows her duty.”

“Isabella.” My brother said the name in a way that made my molars grind. “Vitale’s second daughter, right? I hear she’s rebellious.”

“Compared to the standards of the traditionalists, I’m sure she is.” I thought about her smoking on the roof with her uncle. That would have to stop; I wasn’t having cigarette smoke anywhere near Marzia.

Keys tapped in the background, and he let out another laugh. “She’s beautiful as well. Young, though. She might be more stress than you’re hoping for.”