Seven

One month later..

The car smelled too new.

Too clean.

‘Too un-Tony.’

And he had never felt this so uncomfortable in his entire life.

‘It’s itchy.’

Adjusting the collar of his white dress shirt with one hand on the wheel, he grumbled.

He unbuttoned the ones on the top.

Antonio Santa De Leones was making a comeback today—to his dysfunctional family.

Armed with a sleek, and new black car.

Dressed in a tailored black suit..

Matched with polished black shoes.

A ‘successful businessman’.

‘Not going to a funeral, but it feels like it.’

That was his new role.

He sighed.

Tony had remembered Beth’s instructions a month ago…

“Infiltrate your family,” she said like she was reading a goddamn script.

“Investigate,” she added, pausing for effect.

“Find out all about their business dealings with the Luchese—your family’s rival and business partner.”

Beth had stared at him..

“Find me concrete evidence. On paper. With a stamp.”

She tilted her head. “Something I can use to bring these mafias down…”

Her voice trailed.

‘More like, you just want to have an impressive achievement on your paper.’ 

Tony hides his thoughts well, while half listening. 

“Planning to be more high up?” he can't help but to run his mouth.

But Beth ignored him.

“..They’re responsible for so many gang fights in Philadelphia, New York and even East L.A.—for selling these small gangs some weapons to kill each other. Disrupting peace and order,” she paused and sip on her teacup.

Sighing she put it back down and continued.

“These mafias dare expand their business in America. Innocent civilians are being implicated. So many deaths,” her eyes sharpening.

“And the worst part? They’re also selling drugs like hotcakes,” she let that one sync in with Tony.

Then Beth continued, in a very serious voice.

“We busted one of their warehouses and some of their dealings. We caught some higher ups. But nobody wants to talk,” Beth furrowed her brows. 

“And the drugs and the weapons—they trace back to Italy, the Luchese.. Santa De Leones’ main client.”

Then she stared at Tony’s eyes.

‘Is it really me the best choice? Because I’m family to them? What are they thinking?’ pokered face, Tony was nodding along.

“If we want to take these thugs down, we have to hit and start from the source,” she explained.

Tony then swallowed his wine. 

Interjecting.

“Interpol is letting you guys waltz in on their fucking business?” he reached for the bread on the table.

The atmosphere suddenly became heavy but Beth tried to lighten it.

“Eh.. What they didn't know won't hurt them, do they?” Beth smirked. 

Conspiratorial.

“You guys really are the CIA, no?” Tony said while chewing the bread that he stuffed in his mouth, noisily. 

Disgustingly.

Beth looked at him but said nothing.. 

As if saying, ‘You're splitting hairs now? You're still one of us. Stop whining like a little bitch.’

“I’m just saying….” he shrugged. 

“You guys had to always be at the center of everything. Egoistic much? Always dipping your fingers everywhere like a real hoe.”

Beth sighed at his words but did not say anything and let him speak.

“Okay. So, when do I start?” Tony finally asked.

Beth lifted her brows.

“Looking like a hobo?” she asked with distaste in her voice.

It's more of an insult than a fact.

“You need an identity before coming back to your family. Let’s say.. you are a successful businessman now. And that has earned you the right to come crawling back to your family.”

‘She’s writing a fucking novel.’ Tony shakes his head.

“Don’t shake your head at me like that. You need a believable narrative, Tony. Something they can accept. They won't take in a wandering drunk. But a man that made it on his own? That's power they accept—even though you betrayed them before.”

Tony scowled. Like he was offended.

“What’s wrong with being a hobo?” he asked.

Beth did not answer.

She grimaced instead.

“You badly needed a haircut.”

And now, one month later.. he was ready.

Ready to use.

And ready to be used.

He scoffed at the thought of Beth.

Everything and anything she said sounded suspicious.

But the thought of—

To be the one to bring his fucking family down?

To finally bring their demise?

It sounded so good, too good to be true.

That he was willing to swallow her lies and hope for the best.

Tony leaned back against the driver’s leather seat.

Hair shorter. 

Clothes sharper.

Ready to play a charade with his goddamn family.

He tapped his fingers on the wheel as the mountains of northern Italy rolled past.

The moon hung low over Lake Como.

Lighting up the quiet hills and casting magic shadows over villas like some kind of a wizard.

‘Those villas held more secrets and ‘magic’ than saints.’ he thought bitterly.

A man can suddenly disappear like magic.

Without a trace.

“These people are more like fucking magicians than mafia.”

He hadn't been here in seventeen years.

He swore never to come back.

Yet here he was.

Returning like some prodigal idiot dressed like a clown. 

And the identity of a clown.

It took him a month to ‘prepare’—more like a lecture—while waiting for a reply to the message he sent to the family beforehand.

To let the family know that ‘Antonio’ wants to come back.

The reply only came yesterday.

‘Almost one month,’ he wants to laugh.

‘They finally get curious about what I want. Or suspicious enough to want to look me in the eye.’

He ‘tsk’.

‘They dare to make me wait.. just to remind me that I’m nothing to them?’

His fingers twitched.

Looking for his lover.

The wine.

But there was none.

Beth made sure that he was clean for one whole fucking month.

He groaned instead.

This isn't his first rodeo in infiltration.

But Beth was so… strict.

She thinks that separating him from his ‘amore’ would make him not make any mistakes.

He scoffed internally.

‘I never make mistakes.’

Then he grimaced again.

‘Just don't let me see a beautiful woman.. or a man with violet eyes..’

Tony grinned.

Suddenly remembering the pretty thief.

His only exemption for the man category.

He tried to look for him after that day.

And when he had spare time from Beth’s nagging lesson.

But he did not find him

He’s like a ghost.

A mirage.

‘But I don't think he’s a figment of my imagination.’

Then he became serious.

‘I’ll find you once I'm done here,’ he promised.

‘I'll find you even if it's the last thing I do.’

The car stopped at the gates.

Steel, black.

And newer than he remembers.

Then it opened, letting him in.

‘Well that's natural. It's been years.’

The security was tighter.

‘So was the silence,’ he quietly observed, driving inside the property.

Then he stopped the car right in front of the main entrance.

A man in a tailored suit was already standing at the door without speaking.

Tony stepped out of the car and gave his car keys to the bowing valet.

Black shoes crunching against gravel as the estate came into view—stone and ivy, regal and rotting at the corners.

The Santa De Leones family mansion.

‘Home, if you could call it that.’

He stepped towards the big door.

He didn't knock.

But the doors opened for him.

The black sheep has returned.

Wearing a wolfskin inside the Lion’s den.

His mother stood at the top of the marble staircase, wearing a black dress.

Older.

But still stunning in her icy way—Maria Santa De Leones, high society sculpted into flesh.

‘Cold witch.’

“Antonio..” she said his name flatly. “You’re… thinner.”

‘Thinner? Don't you mean, ugly?’

“Nice to see you too, Mamma”

His mother’s face twisted with displeasure.

She then started to turn on her heel.

“Dinner is ready. You remember where the dining room is, I hope.”

‘A very fucking warm welcome. I can't wait for the whole family to gather,’ he thought, full of sarcasm.

“I do, Mam-ma,” he said, enunciating every syllable.

“Are you trying to be funny? Antonio?” her face was stone cold.

He shrugged then grinned.

“Caught me already?”

“Tch,” his mother gave him a side eye, then left.

Of course, he did fucking remember.

Now that he is back, things are coming back to him as clear as day.

‘Fuck. Even without a beauty in here, I think I’m already gonna mess things up.’

Spotting female servants.

Lingering his eyes there a bit.

Then he whistled.

He looked calm and collected, outside.

But inside—

He thought he was ready.

He thought he could.

But every fiber of his being was screaming at him to turn around and leave.

With each step, it's becoming heavy.

He felt like he was stepping on a quicksand.

The suffocating feeling is back.

He winced.

‘And I’m just starting.’

‘Shit.’

**