Page 4 of Inherting the Mafia

Well, apparently, he knew who I was.

Chapter Two

~ Vittorio ~

"Who are you?"

I took a moment to look the man over before giving him an answer. I had to admit, this Anthony D'Angelo was not what I expected. I could see glimpses of his father in his straight Roman nose and the scruff along the firm cut of his jaw, but he must have gotten his honey-colored eyes from his mother.

I wasn't sure how I felt about the earring.

"My name is Vittorio Antonelli," I finally answered. "I'm here to talk to you about your father."

The man snorted as he pulled his backpack off and dropped it on the floor next to the door. "I have no idea who that is."

My eyebrows lifted. "You don't know who your father is?"

"Well, my mother was a whore, so..."

"Was?"

Had the woman died?

"She took off with one of her customers when I was about twelve. Never saw her again. I figure she's either living the life of her dreams or dead in a ditch somewhere. Doesn't matter one way or another. As long as she never comes back, she can do whatever she wants."

There was a lot of anger and resentment in that statement.

"Who did you live with if your mother took off?"

Anthony's eyebrow snapped together. "What's it to you?"

"Just a question."

"Fine." Anthony's honeyed eyes rolled. "I was placed in state custody and went through ten different fosters homes over the next two years. When I was fourteen, I met my foster mom and lived with her until I turned eighteen." He crossed his arms and glared, raising one dark eyebrow. "Satisfied?"

"Why so many foster homes?" And why had this not been in any of the reports I'd received?

"None of your damn business," Anthony snapped. "Now, tell me why you are here. What does my father want with me?"

Now came the hard part.

"I'm afraid your father passed away two months ago."

Anthony stared at me for a moment, silent and unmoving. I could tell nothing from his blank expression, and that bothered me. I could usually read people better than this.

"Okay, fine, you told me," Anthony finally said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Is there anything else?"

I wasn't sure how I felt about him dismissing his father's death so easily, but I had bigger things to deal with right now.

"There is."

Anthony drew in a heavy breath that seemed to move his entire body and then reached up to rub the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"Look." He planted his hands on his hips and gave me another one of his death glares. "I've been working all day. I'm tired. I still have to eat, shower, and try to get a couple of hours of sleep before I have to get up and go to work again. Unless its life or death, I'm not interested."

"The death part has already happened," I pointed out. "Your father is dead, remember?"

Anthony squinted at me. "Is that supposed to mean something to me? I don't even know this guy's name. My mother never named him, not even on my birth certificate. Why should I care about some stranger that hasn't ever spoken a single word to me?"

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