by Serena Light
The two giggled softly as a voice spoke up
"Good morning, brother." His sister came and greeted him with a hug and kiss on the cheek as he did the same. "Let's go?"
"Come on, let us get you two in the car," Arcangelo instructed as he carried his niece to the other side. Once the toddler was fastened in her seat and the siblings had settled down as well, they drove to their destination.
Once they arrived, Arcangelo walked down the street, looking around himself. Vincent had told him about a nice little diner in town which served delicious apple pies with extra strong coffee, and that he should try it out. Now he stood in the middle of the sidewalk, looking around for said diner.
Finally, after aimlessly walking around he found it.
The Italian Diner.
Alyna noticed an alleyway leading to the back, so they made their way there. There was a white fence forming a large square in which there were tables and chairs with sun umbrellas opened overhead.
Opening the little white gate they stepped inside the enclosure.
Seeing the limited amount of people seated outside, Arcangelo had to wonder if there were people inside or if they were having a slow day. Shrugging at his thoughts, he settled down with his back facing the infrastructure as he soaked in the warm rays of the sun, obscuring his gaze with his opaque sunglasses. Alyna sat in front of him with their nephew to their right and Alyna's daughter to their left.
"How are you feeling?" Alyna asked her elder brother as she leaned on the table, looking at him in concern.
"I'm fine." He assured as he instinctively touched the stitches in his abdomen. "A little pain, but nothing I can't handle."
"How did you end up in that situation, anyway?" She hissed quietly.
"Alyna, not in front of the kids."
His sister pressed her lips together into a thin line before reaching into her bag and taking out her sunglasses, adorning them, she looked around aimlessly as the children were talking among themselves. Arcangelo sighed in irritation as he took out a cigarette, placing it between his lips as he noticed his sister look up to glare at him.
"Fine, fine." He relented with raised hands and stood from his seat, lighting the cigarette as he went and smoked in the corner. Alyna watched his movement as she noticed him glance at the table of three girls who were huddled close and giggling to each other. A scoff escaped her as her brother had a small smirk on his face.
"Good morning." A soft and scratchy voice spoke up as Alyna jumped in surprise. Looking up she saw one of the waitresses standing before her with a welcoming smile and a scarf around her neck. "Just one menu?"
She looked back towards Arcangelo, seeing him talking on the phone with his back turned towards them.
"Yo, bro!" She called out to his back. "Want me to order for you?"
His response was to wave dismissively as Alyna took that as an affirmation.
"Yup, one menu, please,"
Glancing at the menu, she instantly knew what she wanted and what she would get her brother, now all that remained was for the kids to decide. Eventually, after a bit of fussing and indecisiveness, they came to a conclusion. Calling back the waitress, she returned with a notepad and a smile.
"What would you like, madam?"
"Okay, so this little guy here," Alyna spoke while pointing to Arsenio, who grinned. "Will have cream-filled brioches. And this lady here will be having strudel di Mele. Both of them will have milk with it. My brother and I would like to order your savory breakfast casserole and both of us will have coffee. I take two sugars, cream, and milk, and he likes his coffee black with one sugar."
"Okay, so a cream-filled brioche. A strudel di Mele. Two savory platters. Two glasses of milk. Two coffees. One with two sugars, cream, and milk, and one black and one sugar." She recited the order as Alyna nodded in confirmation. "Alright, your food will be out in twenty minutes."
With that said, the waitress started to walk away as Arcangelo approached. Passing behind her, he settled down in his seat, starting a conversation with his nephew and niece.
And just like the waitress had stated, she was coming with breakfast after 20 minutes.
"Here you are, young man." She smiled softly at Arsenio as she placed his plate in front of him. "And for you, my dear lady." She resumed.
"Ma'am." She nodded as she placed the casserole before Alyna, along with her coffee and then she turned towards Arcangelo, instantly freezing as she saw his face. Glancing up, his mouth fell slightly open as he could see the panic in her eyes.
"What's the matter?" Alyna asked the waitress, noticing the slight tremor coursing through her, as she was jolted out of her stupor.
"Nothing, madam." She assured as she started to place his plate and coffee with trembling hands.
"Do not make a scene." He whispered in her ear as she leaned down.
Swallowing thickly, she gave an inconspicuous nod before pulling away with a forced smile. Giving a curt nod, she hurried away as Arcangelo dug into his breakfast leaving Alyna to wonder what just happened. Shrugging off her curiosity, she also dug into her food as they all ate with light-hearted chatter. The peculiar behavior of the waitress didn't come up and Arcangelo was grateful for that.
Once they all finished and Arcangelo had another cigarette, a different waitress came out with their receipt. Paying the due amount along with a generous tip, they made their way out of the diner. Arcangelo dropped his nephew to his kindergarten, seeing him off before spending most of the morning out with his niece and sister. Eventually, he dropped off his sister and niece back to her house. Bidding his farewell, he drove off and back to the estate.
Upon his entry, men greeted him with bowed heads as he strode down the hall and into his study, seeing a man in his late 20's standing with a glass of orange juice and looking out of the window.
"Ricardo." Arcangelo nodded to the man, effectively gaining his attention.
"Boss," He spoke with a bowed head.
"To what do I owe this sudden pleasure?" He inquired as he settled behind the desk and watched Ricardo sit down before him.
"I heard about the mishap at the negotiation." He spoke as Arcangelo looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "I came to give my best wishes."
"And?" Arcangelo drawled while signing a document, knowing that the man before him wasn't here just for 'best wishes' for a speedy recovery. He wanted something. They always wanted something.
"And I wanted to know what is to be done with the men that thought they could play rough?"
"Let's find them before we take any drastic measures."
"Of course," Ricardo nodded in understanding, "however, I was wondering where you are on finding them."
"Nowhere," Arcangelo stated bluntly. "We're nowhere on finding them. I was on bed rest for the last two weeks and this is my first day back in the office."
"Right. Of course."
"Are we done here?"
"Do you...do you need any help in locating them?"
"I have a skilled team of trackers under my roof, I think I am good." He spoke dismissively as he opened up a file, reading the words as his eyebrows scrunched together. Ricardo opened his mouth to say something before Arcangelo held up a hand to stop him.
Grabbing the landline beside him, he dialed a number as he ran his eyes over the words once more.
"What the fuck is this?" He spoke into the phone. "Why wasn't I told that one of my allies wants to cut ties with my mafia?"
Arcangelo listened in silence for a moment.
"And when did this happen? Today? And it didn't occur to you to tell me before?"
With a disgruntled growl, he slammed the receiver down before regarding Ricardo who was uneasily squirming under his ice blue eyes.
"You want to help? Then take my team of trackers and get a hold of those assholes. And before you ask, you can keep the bounty, I want their heads."
Ricardo gave a smile before bowing his head and leaving out the door. Arcangelo stood from his seat, grabbing his phone as he called the person wh
o was looking to cut ties with him.
"Do you know what will happen the moment we sever ties?" He spoke into the phone as he made his way into his bedroom. "First of all, word spreads pretty fast in the underworld. Everyone will know that you are no longer an ally of mine and the boys will have quite the laugh about it."
"Then your international, national, and indigenous enemies will all hear that you have fallen out of my graces and what's going to stop them from coming after you? That pathetic second-rate armory you call an arsenal? Oh, I don't think so. They will have no trouble getting to you."
"But oh, wait, first they want you to suffer. They want you to suffer the way they suffered. They will tear apart your family limb from limb. First your wife, your mistress, your son, your daughter, but they won't do it without having their fun, and then they will play with you. They will play and laugh and drink and make merry and then. Only then, will they start with you. And I can assure you they will use various forms of torture on you until you are nothing but a broken shell of a man."
"Do you want that?" Arcangelo questioned into the phone as he lit a cigarette and blew out a puff. "No? Right,"
"Well too bad. Because you should never have sent me that piece of shit you call a 'negotiation'. The papers have been signed. See you in hell, old friend." He smirked as he heard the man wail on the other line before declining the call.
Chuckling to himself, he felt the blood rush in his veins as he glanced around his room, grabbing what he had been searching for before making his way out again.
***
Rosalie rubbed her eyes tiredly as she stumbled down the hall and towards her apartment. Fixing her keys into their slot, she twisted them before entering the dark apartment. Locking the doors behind her, she flipped the light switch and rubbed her eyes once more, wanting nothing more than to sleep.
"How's your neck?" A voice spoke from behind her, the suddenness having her scream in fright and turn around to look at the man seated on her sofa. "It looks better now."
"W-what are you doing here?" She stammered as she pressed her back against the door, her hands trembling as her breathing labored, her entire face drained of color. "What-what do you want-want-want from me?"
"Nothing, but to return this." He stated nonchalantly as she watched him stand up and place her shawl on the back of the sofa, washed and dry-cleaned. "I also came to thank you for saving my life and not creating a scene at the diner."
Swallowing painfully, she unconsciously placed her hand on her neck as she nodded silently.
He walked towards her as she whimpered and continued to press herself into the wooden door. Arcangelo looked at her with a raised eyebrow as he raised his hand, and instantly she shrunk back in fear as her eyes shut tightly, afraid he would do something to her. A gasp tore through her lips as her eyes shot open at the cold feeling of his fingertips ever so gently dancing over the discoloration of her neck.
"Mi dispiace tanto per quello che ti ha fatto ... per quello che hai dovuto passare ... non è facile ... lo so. (I'm so sorry for what he did to you ... for what you had to go through ... it's not easy ... I know.)" He spoke lowly as Rosalie stared at him with wide blue eyes, frightened by the disgruntled look in his eyes as his forehead creased with worry and his lips pressed firmly together. "Voi non meritano questo." (You do not deserve this)
"Chi...siete?"(Who are you) Rosalie found herself saying in a quiet whimper as his eyes suddenly shot up to meet her own. Her mouth instantly closing as his face suddenly became devoid of any emotions. Suddenly, she heard the click of the lock. Her eyes snapped open as she stared at him in astonishment.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to get going."
Looking at him in bewilderment, she shuffled away from the door and watched as he opened it and stepped halfway out before looking over his shoulder.
"You might want to get your locks changed."
And that was it. That was all it took for her to understand that he would leave her alone and never come before her again. And that was all the promise that she needed.
Chapter III: Mafia Errands
"What do you mean it's not done?" Arcangelo chuckled darkly as he took a drag from his cigarette. "I was told I could count on your timely delivery. But apparently that doesn't seem to be that case, now does it?"
He silently listened to the futile attempt at the supplier making an excuse and asking for more time, but he wasn't having any of it.
"I will have someone pick up the delivery in half an hour. I don't care if you have it or not, my men will be there. If the shipment is there, all well and good. But if you are empty-handed, I will have an empty mag at the end of the day."
With that message delivered, he tore the Bluetooth device off his ear before tossing it onto the table beside him.
"You know you should stop threatening them." A voice spoke from behind him as he simply scoffed.
"Don't act like a wife with me, Vincent. You know how this world works."
The man, Vincent, groaned in irritation as he gripped his dirty blonde tresses messing up his neat hairdo.
"Fucking talk to me!" He exclaimed as Arcangelo ignored his outburst settling down behind his desk as the other stalked forward. "Are you still mad about me choking that girl? I couldn't be sure that she wasn't one of them! You know that!"
Rather than a response, the second in command was greeted by the sound of pen on parchment.
"I'm your best friend! Say something!" Vincent bellowed in rage and frustration as he grabbed him by the front of his shirt, wanting to shake him, but instead he froze when he felt the cold gun barrel press against the middle of his forehead.
"You're my sister's husband, the father of my niece, and my second-in-command." He stated calmly as he clicked off the safety. "It's high time you started acting like it."
Hurt flashed in Vincent's apple green eyes as he released his boss, pulling away and standing to attention. With his back straight and shoulders squared, he folded his hands in front of him as he stared with an impassive expression.
"Is there something you need of me, boss?" He asked monotonously as Arcangelo went back to typing on his laptop.
"No," Arcangelo responded in eerie calmness. "We'll leave in 10 minutes."
With a curt nod and a bow of his head, he spun on his heels and stalked out of the office, purposely slamming the door behind him.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Arcangelo curled and unfurled his fingers as he tried to reign in his temper. He needed a cold head to deal with the idiots he was going to meet.
Grabbing the gun from his desk surface, he opened the mag and loaded it before closing it in place. Stuffing the gun into his holster, he stood from his seat and grabbed everything he needed before fitting the Bluetooth device into his ear once again.
"Ricardo." He spoke into the device as his office doors were swung open for him. "Tell me you have something."
"Working on it boss," Ricardo spoke. "We have narrowed the area to a 10-mile radius, now we are trying to pinpoint their location."
"How long will it take?"
"Two hours? Maybe three?"
"Do it quick. It's been three months and I've been itching to kill."
"Yes, boss."
With that said, Arcangelo pressed the button on the device as he made his way to the porch. Putting on his black aviators, he settled into his Porsche before driving off with two Range Rovers following behind him. It took him 10 minutes to arrive at the shipping dock where he could notice men run around frantically.
Parking his car, he took out a cigarette and lit it before blowing out a puff and stepping out.
Behind him were four armed men, all of them standing three steps behind him and allowing him to deal with this himself.
Arcangelo never dealt with shipments himself, because he wasn't meant to be seen or recognized, he was only a rumor. But when mishaps happen again and again, then he has no choice but to intervene, like now.
He always enjoyed acting like one of h
is subjects and act as if he had sent himself. No one was going to recognize him, so he could be anyone he wanted to be.
He stood before the numerous crates as there were men patrolling the grounds with shotguns. Arcangelo had to hold back a chortle at how out-dated their weaponry was.
Shotguns, really?
He waited silently with his hand in his slack's pocket, leisurely smoking the cigarette, expecting to see the man in charge. And within a few seconds, a man in ripped denim jeans and a black t-shirt under a leather jacket hurried towards him. His brown eyes were wide and dilated, his breathing labored as if though he ran a marathon, sweat beaded his forehead and seemed jittery.
"Good day!" He exclaimed too loudly as Arcangelo stared down at him from behind his opaque glasses. "I'm the man in charge here! And you are?"
"It doesn't matter who I am." He responded professionally, blowing out a puff of smoke. "All that matters is the fact that we are here for boss's shipment."
"Yes, yes. Cannabis and opium."
Arcangelo raised an eyebrow at him as he took another drag from the cigarette, seeing the man fidget nervously beneath his gaze.
"No. The heroin and cocaine."
"What? Oh! Right! Right!" The man ranted. "I'm sorry there are just so many shipments passing through here that I get the contents mixed up every now and again. The opium is for some hotshot business executive who-"
"-Shut up."
"Of course."
"The shipment?"
"Right this way sir." He led the way through the warehouse, nervously glancing at the four men walking behind Arcangelo. "Are these men really necessary?'
"Are your men necessary?"
"Well...sort of."
"Well, these are. End of story."
"Right, okay." He swallowed thickly as he led the way to the shipment.
They arrived at the opening to the docks where there were four large wooden crates standing in the doorway. Two of them had the name 'Peru' printed on them while the other two had 'Afghanistan', written in black.
"Open them," Arcangelo instructed as the man tensed.
"What?"
"I said open them."