Page 2 of Ludovico's Vengeance

When we finally release one another, I shake my head, the smile still firmly in place. I can’t believe the man that is standing in front of me was once the scrawny punk I had to get out of trouble more times than I can count. He’s filled out since I last saw him, now with a broad chest and shoulders straining against his black button up like a beast. I wonder if his trainer can hold a candle to Clay.

“You too, Milo – but, it’s Johnny now.” I correct him.

My mother’s eyes glisten with tears at my statement. Inwardly I’m groaning, however, I keep my annoyance masked. I know she wasn’t happy when I changed my name, but it was a necessary evil to be able to separate myself from the lot of them. And, well – I'm not Giovanni and I haven’t been for a long time.

No one bothers to acknowledge my correction; Milo simply moves aside to allow me access to the house. It’s exactly as I remember. I step inside, into the large foyer furnished with overstated antiques from my grandparents and great grandparents, years of collecting take up space all around the entryway. As I continue through the space, I see a chest I once hid in for a game of hide and seek when my father was still alive. But, we don’t talk about him.

“Where is he?” I ask as I continue my way through my childhood home into the large living room. My eyes linger on the sizeable floor length windows, which take up the entire east side wall of the room. The view of the front drive and oversized yard is impressive from this angle. You can see so much of our expansive land. The rose bushes are just the start of the vast estate.

When no one answers, I turn back to look at my mother and my friend. My eyes dart back and forth between the two before she breaks the silence.

“He and Lucia are in Sicily for the week."

My blood becomes molten in my veins as I allow her words to sink in. He is still with the woman I was supposed to marry.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” I snarl at them both.

Milo steps between Giovanna and I before he finds his nerve to speak.

“Because she will be a non-issue after this trip.” His dark eyes penetrate through my anger, and I step back as if I’ve been slapped.

“What in the actual fuck, Milo. We don’t kill women.” The words come out in a feral growl.

He shakes his head as if I’ve misunderstood. How the fuck could I misunderstand what he’s just admitted to me.

“No, Gi-Johnny. We’re not killing her.” He shakes his head, an amused expression etched across his face. “Frederico is leaving her there, he’s offered her to one of the soldiers in the old country. She just won’t know until she wakes up and he’s gone.”

The words pierce through my rage, and I begin to laugh. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, a deep rumble of laughter that reverberates through my bones.

“Fuck, that is brilliant. I can’t imagine a better revenge for Lucia quite honestly.” I admit through the laughter.

After I catch my breath, I slide onto the large red leather couch. My mother takes a seat next to me while Milo is seated opposite me.

“Are we going to discuss the reason you brought me home or am I supposed to guess?” I ask, cutting straight to the point.

Milo snorts and shakes his head. “Never one to pussy foot around a topic. Fuck, it’s good to have you home.”

My mother shoots a venomous glare at Milo, which makes us both chuckle. However, she’s the one who gets into what she wants before my friend and I can get lost in the good ole times we’ve shared.

“Everyone who matters is in on it. As soon as he gets home, he’ll be told there is someone in the cell that he needs to handle.” I cock a brow at her in question, she shakes her head, immediately understanding the unspoken concern as she continues. “Don’t worry, his arthritis is so bad he can’t shoot anymore.”

I nod in understanding as I shove my hand into my pocket, feeling the weight of my Roma blade. The knowledge of what we’re going to do has me anxious with such anticipation, every scenario running through my mind.

“How many people who don’t know will be in the room?” I ask as I see a familiar face approaching the three of us.

"My sweet boy!” Mrs. De Luca, the same housekeeper that has been here since I was a child, calls me the very same endearment from all those years ago. She never did give up on that, even after I grew up. She looks the same as when I last saw her, save for some wrinkles, to be expected with as much time that’s passed. I remember when she first came to us. I was only five years old and an absolute handful. She never let that sway her from becoming my safe space. She was more of a nanny back then. As I grew, her duties shifted away from childcare to caring for the house.

I jump to my feet and stride toward her, my arms snake around her round frame. She’s more than a foot shorter than my towering six foot five. She still smells like cinnamon, brown sugar, and coffee. A soft chuckle escapes as I squeeze her once more.

“Some things never change; you still smell like cinnamon rolls.” I say into her hair before allowing her space. She smiles brightly up at me; her green eyes have the same air of mischief as they did when I was growing up. The pranks we would play on one another used to be the highlight of my days as a kid.

“Oh, that will never change, child. It’s a staple in this house. You should remember that, no matter how long it’s been.” She pinches my side and huffs out her annoyance. “It seems like you and Milo both spend too much time at the gym. I need to put some meat back on our boys' bones.” She winks at my mother who rolls her eyes at the comment.

I shake my head and let out another laugh. Mrs. De Luca excuses herself back into the kitchen allowing the three of us to continue our conversation. As I return to my seat on the couch, my imagination runs wild with the possibilities of how this can go down.

“No matter how you decide to do it,” my mother begins her explanation again. “We have a car where we will stage the body. Once it’s detonated, anyone not in the know will think it was a car bombing.”

My brows shoot up.

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