Union Of Death (Secrets of The Famiglia Part 2)

Chapter 4 (Aliyana)

Rebellion has become my latest friend and closest companion when dealing with my father these last four months. To think in less than a few short months Ren would be gone for a year. An entire year without him.

“Surely there must be someone else Papa. I really don’t want to go, please?”

“Absolutely not. Ilaria is prepping for our Christmas dinner and your brother can’t be the only one who attends. Now enough of this whining, you are leaving in an hour and that is final. Your sister needs you there, this is a big-time for her. It isn’t every day a woman gets married. Soon Guilia will be a Catelli. Making babies and doing woman things.”

I roll my eyes at my father’s back currently faced to me. After my week with Kylie and Diamond ended the day before, I wasn’t so keen on the prospect of me going to the Manor. Apparently, the Manor was not the Catelli’s household I thought.

Which wasn’t too far from my own, but it was Marco’s Manor and required a 3-hour drive to the middle of nowhere. This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

A trip that far meant Filippo Guilia and myself were all going in one convoy. Which meant this was going to be an entire 180 minutes listening to Guilia bitch and moan, while Filippo swore about every damn car that didn’t drive the way he wanted.

All peachy and rosy. The only thing is I’m not looking forward to it one bit. What soured my mood even further was the near mentioning thought of meeting Camilla Moretti.

Marco and her were engaged and soon to be married. According to my nosy friend Kylie, Camilla was apparently secretly living with Marco in the Manor.

Upon hearing this news, going just seemed like I was throwing myself into a hot pit. And I prefer the cold.

“And with regards to your choice of soldiers, I decline your suggestion. Salvatore and Michel are related to Camilla so naturally, they could’ve attended if they were invited which was not the case.

Gabriel will be attending on his Uncle's behalf and I think the two of you alone is enough trouble for one weekend, so I have decided to send Matteo.” And there it is. The bane of my existence. Matteo Di Salvo is the most annoying being ever to cross paths with me and stay. He lives to drive me insane.

My Papa however thinks Matteo is a great choice to ‘keep me in line’. Which is the term he used on the few occasions I complained about my soldier.

“That isn’t fair. You know I despise him, why is he always the one to take me everywhere?”

My father turns at the tone in my voice, and then I am not so brave. The slight shiver that rushes down my spine isn’t something I would openly admit.

“Close the door.” My father’s request takes me a second, but a feeling of nerves crushes me as I get up to do as he orders. My frown and curiosity now a blanket on my face, as I seat myself down in the brown leather chair, I have sat in almost every day these last 4 months.

I can't help my attention which draws to my mother’s photo sitting on his desk. She is the center of his world even in her death and it isn’t the first time I wonder why my father chose to cheat on the woman he holds at the apex of his entire existence even in her death.

“I need this weekend to go off without a hitch. Our family and the Catelli’s have a long bitter history, and people outside the Famiglia are noticing. This could be a problem. If I send Salvatore these people would think our ties are not solid and strike. Salvatore is not just a guard soldier. He was a gift from Deno for your safety. Extra protection. We must be strong and stand united. My history and bad blood

with Marcello should not be carried on with you and your siblings. So with Guilia and Leonardo’s marriage, we will strengthen our bonds. I need you to make this weekend a success.”

“Salvatore is loyal to me. Matteo questions me at every turn. I think you are making a mistake. But I will do as you ordered.”

“Good, now get ready and call your brother in will you!”

My father dismisses me, ignoring my glare.

I get up and open the door gently. I learned early on that my rage should be kept inside and used for a purpose. Slamming Papa's door to show him my anger is a wasted effort. He doesn’t care. I know, because once upon a time I slammed a lot of doors and banged a lot of cupboards. Nothing ever came out of it. Papa didn’t condone my tantrums. He brushed it off and stuck to his guns.

There was only one way

HIS.