Page 3 of Deceptive Union

Johnny wavers, then nods. “Fine. Deal.” We shake on it. “Have a good night, Tony. Looks like you’re gonna have one.” He nods, and I turn to follow his direction. Joanna is still waiting for me. Thank fuck for that.

I approach Joanna, slinging my arm around her. “Ready to head out?”

“Ready.”

A few minutes later, we’re at my apartment. While my place is in a shitty part of town, the apartment itself is pretty well maintained. I pay a lot of money for it. It’s New York, after all. It’s not what I envisioned for myself, but once I take Franco down and take over the business, I’ll be raking in cash and can move to a better place, one closer to my family.

Joanna doesn’t mess around. She grabs my face and smashes her lips against mine. It doesn’t take us long to end up in my bedroom, where we fuck the night away.

“Whew, that was amazing,” she says, stroking her hands down my chest.

“I agree. It was.” The sudden silence after all our moaning almost hurts my ears. I grew up in a house with seven siblings. I’m used to chaos and loudness. This quiet loneliness is almost deafening. Who knew silence could be so fucking loud?

“Well, I’m gonna go,” she says, leaving me alone in the bed. “It was fun. Let’s do it again sometime.”

“Yeah, let’s.” I watch her leave, knowing we probably won’t fuck again. There are new women at the fighting rings every week. A new one to preoccupy my time. A new one to fuck. A new one to make me forget how fucking lonely I am.

The moment Joanna is gone, I get out of bed and start pacing my apartment. I check the fridge to find only old beer and some cheese. Fuck. I need to go grocery shopping. You’d think after five years on my own, I’d be better at remembering this. Usually, I get invited out to eat by the other fighters or Johnny or women. Not tonight, it seems.

I leave my apartment, glad to have an excuse to not remain there by myself, and head off to the bodega down my street. Once there, I grab some new beer, bread, meat, and some mayo. I can make myself a fucking sandwich at least.

The man behind the counter gives me a tired nod as he rings my groceries up. I grab a cold sandwich from the deli section and add that to the list. At least I can eat on my way home.

I’m eating my cold sandwich as I head back to my apartment when I stop. I can’t go back in there. The silence is too loud, and the loneliness is too crippling. I miss my family. I know I shouldn’t do what I’m thinking, but I need to see them.

I end up at the nearest subway station and take a train to the nicer part of the city. Much nicer. We’re talking five-star hotels and multi-million-dollar brownstones. The part of the city where I grew up.

Thankfully, it’s a warm summer’s evening as I walk over to my old home. The brownstone is just as I remember it, elegant and sophisticated. The epitome of wealth.

I stand across the street and observe the house. The front room’s lights are on, and I can see directly into the living room. My younger sister, Mia, is on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She’s nineteen now. An adult. I’m shocked Mom hasn’t made her get married yet. My two older sisters, Emilia and Gemma, were married when they were eighteen. Mia looks a lot like our father, her dark hair sprawling around her. She doesn’t even look up as the twins, Lucia and Luca, now ten, run past. They also have my father’s dark looks. Mom found out she was pregnant with them about a month after my father passed away. I always thought it would make her happy to have that last memory of him, but she never seemed that happy with the twins. They were more of an obligation than a happy experience.

Behind them comes my mom. Giulia Moretti. Even though she’s now fifty, she still looks young with her wavy blonde hair and unblemished skin. I always noticed how other men looked at her, including Uncle Franco. I hated it. I just wanted to protect her and make sure she was ok.

But now, we haven’t even spoken in five years. Not since the day I said goodbye in the hospital.

* * *

It wasthe night of my eighteenth birthday, and Franco decided I couldn’t be alive anymore because I posed too much of a threat to his rule. So, he had two men drag me out of the house and brought down to the docks, where they shot me. I managed to escape before they could get in a killing blow, but it was only because my older sister, Francesca, came to save me. It was a surprise. Fran was always the shy one of the family, and we were never that close, but she showed a lot of strength that wintry night. She helped me get away and took me to the hospital. Now, she’s married and living in LA, the same place Emilia and her husband live. I never thought I’d miss her, but I do.

After I was patched up at the hospital, my mother came to see me.

“Antonio!” She rushed to my side and immediately began peppering kisses against my face. “You’re ok. You’re ok.”

“Ma. Ma.” I gently pushed her back as I slumped against the hospital bed. “I love you, too.”

She smiled sheepishly as she took a seat next to me. “Francesca told me you were all right. I’m so happy you’re alive. I can’t believe Franco did that to you.”

“You can’t?”

She frowned. “I never thought Franco would try to kill his own nephew. His brother’s son! I should have tried harder to keep him away from you.”

“There wasn’t much you could do, Ma. Franco has all dad’s men. He’s one of the most powerful men in New York. There wasn’t much you could do after he moved in.” That was the thing; the day after my father died, Franco moved into our house as if he were trying to be my dad, Riccardo Moretti. It set everyone on edge, and even years later, that tension never dissipated.

“Well, I’m just glad you’re all right. But I’m not sure what we’re going to do about Franco. When you come back home, he’ll go after you again.”

I inhaled deeply, resolving myself to tell my mom what I needed to say, even though I didn’t want to say it. “I’m not coming back home.”

She scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my son. The rightful ruler of the family business. You’re coming back home.”

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