Page 4 of Black Widow's Kiss

“I don’t mean to disrespect you, Ma, but this is ending right now.”

“And what is it that you’re ending?” Pa asked with more calm that he had a right to have.

That told me what he was thinking. Pa was built for confrontation. He lived for it. He made us into the killers we were with the broad side of a bat and the lit end of cigarette butts. While he did, he never flinched, just like he didn’t now.

Staring at him, he reminded me of the stakes. If you come at the king, you best not miss. Pa had us late in life but he wasn’t an old man. At least, not old enough to expect him to go off quietly. When he looked in the mirror, he didn’t see the grey hair and relentless wrinkles. He saw himself as a man who could take me.

Calming myself, I took a breath and then brushed speckles of Ma’s marinara from my vest.

“This second-guessing ends now,” I told Pa not needing to look at him. “Your role as the head of our family is complete. You will always be our father and we give you the respect you deserve for it. But when it comes to running the family business, that job is mine now.”

“I haven’t given you it, son,” he said coldly.

I looked at him assured.

“You don’t have to give it to me, Pa. I’m taking it.”

Stepping from the table, I crossed my parent’s cluttered living room and collected my jacket.

“Now, to clean up our family’s mess, I will be getting married. You can get on board with it or not. Frankly, I don’t care. This family needs to be led into the future. And your old ways are dead, Pa.

“If any of you would like to come to the wedding, I’ll send you an invitation. If not, I don’t give a fuck. Either way, you will respect me. And as the new head of this family, you will do what I say.”

With that, I adjusted my jacket, gave a final look at my stunned family and left.

I took a deep breath making sure to fill my lungs with the sweet smell of the Brooklyn streets as I descended the stairs to the sidewalk. Why? Because I knew the scent could be my last. No one talked to my father the way I just had. At least, no one who lived to talk about it.

My being his son didn’t make a difference. Word was that Pa once tried to kill his own brother. No one could confirm it because his brother disappeared soon after. The thought was that he moved back to Italy.

Every so often we would hear from him. Mostly during the holiday season. It usually came with a request for safe passage back into the country. But the fact that I’ve never met him, speaks to my father’s ability to hold a grudge.

Rounding the sidewalk, I started to believe that I had done it. I had claimed my independence and it was accepted. In his lack of immediate action, he had declared me the victor. I officially had the reins of the Ricci family. And my first official act was going to marry the woman who would allow my true life to begin.

“Dante!” I heard yelled as I was about to get into my car.

I braced myself. Would I turn around to a gunshot to the head? Who would I see staring back at me? Would it be Matteo? I should have considered the grip Pa had on him.

With nowhere to run, I steeled my spine and spun finding a surprise.

“Lorenzo! What’s going on?” I asked, seeing the brother who avoided these dinners like the plague.

“We need to talk,” he said approaching.

“Alright. Not here,” I replied scanning the streets and ushering him into my car.

Quickly pulling away, the brownstones whipped by us.

“What is it?” I said keeping one eye on the rearview mirror.

“There’s a word on the street. It’s about your upcoming marriage.”

“How is my marriage a word on the street? I only finalized that deal six hours ago,” I said not liking where this was going.

“If you think you finalized it, you might need to talk to Sato again.”

“And why is that?” I said feeling my neck warm.

“Don’t kill the messenger, Dante,” Lorenzo warned nervously, his lack of tattoos and lean build striking a strong contrast to Matteo and me.

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