Capo Dei Capi (Secrets of the Famiglia Part 1)

Chapter 52 (Marco)

Mischa rushes down the white-tiled staircase. Her eyes as black as her mothers' and my own - A trait

only one bloodline in the Catelli Famiglia has.

Her black curly hair and naughty dimpled smile, including her wolf nose, is the epitome of her father,

Lucca.

There's no denying who her parents are. No denying the venomous bloodline running through her

veins and the enemies she'd inherit because of it.

One thing is certain- there is goodness in her. Her father was once a good man, I know, because not

too long ago we were friends. Katrina was the poison that slipped into his mind. She turned him evil.

All for pussy. Deno's words play in my head as I smile at the last goodness of my friend, Lucca, and the

product of my cousin's Amariya's torture, Mia figlia. My daughter

I smile wider, the closer she gets to me. Her little legs tiny but steady, and I open my arms, bend my

knees as she reaches the last two steps. She is the only reason keeping me from killing everybody in

the 5th State.

Reining war is what I should do to all the fuckers who stood by and watched what my brother went

through, by the hands of my Grandfather . My father included.

My only wish now is, she'd be rushing down the stairs of my Manor all the time like the princess she

ought to be. Not in secret locations in fuckin' suburbs. One day soon.

The few hours I spend with Mischa go by fast.

Most of our time is spent at the toy shop. One thing she learned from my sister is how to shop. I get

back to Anya's place after 6. The two cars in the front, tell me I am just in time.

My soldiers who kept an eye on us while we were gone remain at the back of my car.

"Uncle Deno and Leo are here, Papa," Mischa beams as she opens her own door and runs toward the

house as I take a minute to collect myself.

It is always hard for me to let her leave and harder when I know she isn't going to see me for another

few days.

We have no option but to rotate her. Deno, Anya, and I switched her every few months.

Deno, however, kept Mischa the most since he had more time. It made it easier for me to see her since

we lived together.

Anya kept Mischa when she could. My sister owned a boutique and a few spa's, which she This belongs © NôvelDra/ma.Org.

micromanaged. She was constantly busy, but her businesses made her time worth it.

I acknowledge the soldiers on the left of the house as I jump out of my car, signaling them to get the

stuff from the boot.

We spend the evening with my sister as Xander entertains us with stories of his years in Liston Hills.

None of us gets emotional when we talk about Lorenzo. We have all mourned him in our own way this

week. My siblings would miss him more than me.

I never really got to know my brother as well as I should have. I loved him, and he will be missed, but

I'm not crippled by his permanent leave.

Leonardo stays behind when Deno and I make our excuse to leave. After tucking Mischa in for the

evening, I say my goodbyes to my sister. Xander gets a phone call and leaves straight away.

I follow Deno on the freeway as we head over to our father's home. We take the roads steady, no rush.

Both of us dreading the meeting in more ways than we will admit.

Camilla Moretti pops into my head. Unlike my first meeting with the young Aliyana, I've known Camilla

since I was a boy, we were raised in DC together. My father's greed for power then still fresh. His love

for my mother, a genuine feeling.

Then shit happened, and Camilla's Grandfather took her away and moved to New York first. Her

parents died soon after, they were murdered brutally. It was a message that even I at 11 understood

the meaning of. Her Grandfather gave up his place as Capo Dei Capi, and took his entire army of

soldiers and businesses and fled to London.

My father moved us here, to Seattle in the very house my mother died six months later.

Camilla was a spoilt brat then, who didn't know the difference between ankles and elbows. A feisty little

creature that went from free beast to a guarded Princess. I liked her a lot. But she left, and her

Grandfather kept her hidden. Not many knew what she looked like or who she was. He changed her

name, and with all my attempts to find her, I couldn't.

Eventually, I forgot about her until recently. My quest to find a suitable wife for not just my sake but a

mother for Mischa is the reason I remembered the feisty girl that kissed me under the dinner table.

She was the perfect option. Camilla would be a wife who didn't offer me just a warm body but someone

who could give me a strong army. But, her Grandfather has been stalling. I asked for her hand 6

months ago. In a way, I'm glad, because I would have never tasted Aliyana Capello's lips, or heard her

sigh as her breath tickled my cheeks if Dante Moretti agreed to my marriage.

The man in me wants Aliyana, there's something in her eyes, something I know too well. Whatever it is,

it will soon belong to me.

I should feel guilt, knowing my brother lies dead in a grave, and all he asked was for me to let her go.

But I can't summon up any right now. I never believed in honoring a dead man's wish.

The black gates open as the 6 soldiers in the front greet us. Green hedges and palm trees pave our

way. Bright fluorescent lamps running down the driveway gives us a proper grand entrance.

I never understood the need to have so much luxury afforded to one person, all because of a title. My

father, however, doesn't share my perplexion.

One of these days, my brother will take over. Even this house will belong to him.

How will my father feel when he finds out my brother plans to turn our home into a Gentlemen's bar? I

would pay good money to know the answer to that.

I park my car next to Deno's black Audi as the butler comes toward us.

"Hello, Sir Marco, Sir Deno. Your father is waiting upstairs in the main office." The butler, Cedric bows

and walks away.

Deno looks at me to say, 'what the fuck is he still doing working here' and I just shrug as I tie the

buttons of my suit jacket. The man was given many chances to leave, why he chooses to stay is

beyond my understanding. Loyalty can sometimes be your worst enemy, it traps you in the worse of

places.

I spot Natasha's paintings as we enter the foyer. The gold and brown furniture, reminding us of our

mother. How does Natasha do it? She doesn't have a choice, that's how. When your choice is gone,

you learn to adapt just so you can breathe one more day. I learned that in the army, we were 3 months

in Iraq, my second tour. We were ambushed.

'Sir, get out of here.' The cries of my men, the gunshots. So many innocent lives lost. Heat exploding in

my torso as a bullet hits straight in my sternum, taking me to my knees. 'Get out of here, run' useless,

it's all useless.

"Marco." Deno shakes me out of my trance, standing by the stairway. I rub the area where I still feel the

remnant of that fucked up day that almost cost me my life. I wish I was fucking killed.

"I'm fine."

"Let's get this shit out of the way, this house gives me the fucking creeps." Deno takes the stairs as I

follow behind him.

This night is just getting started.