Chapter 9: Fate Sealed

Diego aka Arrow’s POV

“I know what’s going on.” Marcell’s voice was starting to grate against my already tired nerves.

“And what do you think is going on?” I asked him, as I watched the water turn from red to pink under the faucet of the sink.

After I had helped the other men at the warehouse dispose of Pete’s body, we had returned to my uncle's house. Our lives returned to normal, whereas Pete’s ended as if it had never existed.

“You’re worried about what she would think of you. You’re playing it through your head like she’s now your moral compass after one date with her,” Marcell commented as he walked next to me, leaning up against the sink.

“It’s not as simple as that,” I replied, washing my hands for the third time.

“Then what is it?” Marcell asked me.

We were all each other had, in a sense. The safety zone in this disgusting world. When things were bloody. and chaotic, when guns were pointed at our heads from people who we thought were our friends or even family, we were the ones we knew would have each other's backs regardless of what.

I didn’t blame Marcell for being suspicious of Katie, or even of my sudden change in morality. It was Marcell’s job to be suspicious, to ask questions, to dig, to be doubtful. To prod and push even me. Marcell didn’t know love and was disbelieving in its existence. Anyone would be with his experiences in life.

Marcell was given to the family when he was six and raised by my uncle. His life was not one filled with love. He would normally fill his life with humor or deflection to others, especially my uncle, but with me he was honest. Letting me see the pain. Or a reflection of it.

“Have you ever wondered what our life would be like if we just stopped?” I asked, turning off the water and facing my cousin.

“Stopped what? Stopped living?” Marcell asked. His normal sarcasm was starting to show back up in his voice.

“You know what I mean, Marcell,” I stated.

“Yes, I do, and I know what will happen. Aldo will make me put a bullet in your head, and then make me Don, and we both know I wasn’t built to boss people around,” Marcell whined.

“I want to fall in love. I want to fall in love in a normal way. I want to meet a woman at a bar whose smile captivates me, and I want to get to know her better, get married and have kids. I want to work a boring job and hate my boss because he asks me to work on the weekend and I can’t go to the farmers' market or some sh*t…”

“…Or some cute brunette you met on a blind date with and shared overpriced wine and talked about boring nonsense, and couldn’t get enough of her awkward glances, and adorably cute giggle?”

“Excuse me, sirs, but Mister Russo has asked that you meet him in his office,” Gretta, my uncle’s housekeeper, announced from the open door of the washroom.

“Thank you, Gretta,” I said, drying my hands quickly on the pristine white hand towel, leaving a pale pink residue behind.

“What do you think this is about?” Marcell asked me as we quickly walked out of the wide washroom and into the hallway that led to Aldo Russo’s study.

“You don’t think someone told him about what happened at the warehouse do you?” I whispered.

“Hell no. Those are my men, not Aldo’s. They wouldn’t talk,” Marcell stated, confirming my suspicion about the men in the warehouse.

I had suspected that he was stacking men under him with men he was selecting, to leverage out Aldo’s men, who were only tasked with spying and reporting back with what we were doing. But Marcell was never a man who showed all his cards.

Aldo Russo’s office was located at the back of his Spanish-style home located just outside of the city in a suburb called Hinsdale. The house wasn’t really a house, but more of a miniature compound, with its twelve-thousand square feet, ten bedrooms, eight baths, two panic rooms, and basement that was refurbished to be a weapons vault.

In his neurotic distrust of everyone, Aldo placed his office in between the dining room and kitchen, remodeling the old butler’s pantry. The door was still original to the old blueprints, but the inside was large and impressive. If you ever wanted to find Aldo Russo, you could find him here.

Marcell knocked on the door of the office. Aldo’s cranky, brittle baritone voice barked at us to enter. Marcell opened the door, and as per propriety, I proceeded my cousin. He followed me, closing the door as he entered.

“Have a seat,” Aldo barked at me.

We always joked that Aldo must have pissed off time somewhere along his warpath to taking over the family from his father. Each day the craters in his wrinkles deepened, and his hair was more white than black, his back curling over. Though, he tried his best to put on airs and appear as if he was still as frightening as he was when he was known as Aldo the Lion Russo.

“Today, my boy, I have good news,” Aldo spoke gruffly, barely before my a** could hit the leather of the chair.

“And what news would that be, uncle?” I asked.

“As my father would say, it is a glorious day when two families can come together and put aside their differences, joining together to propel the vision of them both.” As Aldo droned on, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

“What family?” I asked, already knowing exactly where he was going and wanting so desperately to put myself out of my own misery.

“You should count yourself lucky that they agreed. This contract will ensure that we don’t run into the issues we’ve been having, my boy,” Aldo remarked.

“Who is it?” I pushed.

“Eager, eager…” Aldo tried to joke. “Penelope Ricci.”

My worst fear crashed into every single hope I had dared to feel and dream, rendering me numb.

“Say something!” Aldo demanded.

“Thank you for this honor,” I numbly responded, standing up from the seat.

“Your betrothed will be expecting to hear from you soon. Here’s to the throne, my boy,” Aldo spoke, dismissing me from his office.

I brushed past Marcell, as he opened the door, my feet carrying me, in the only direction I could go. My brain churned, processing the dread of the shackles that had just been chained to me. The fresh air brought no clarity. I continued my trek to some semblance of privacy. The pool house was never used, unless when Aldo and his now fifth wife were throwing some party or event. The air was thin in my lungs as the inward panic threatened to take over my cool outward composure.

It was over. My pursuit to control the one area in my life I refused to hand over to Aldo Russo was over. Just like every single other atom of my life he weaseled his way into overcoming the control, not even giving me the chance at saying no.

“It’s not over,” Marcell spoke from behind me, his voice breathless. “It’s not over because I’m going to help you. I’m going to help you get the woman with the brunette hair and her awkward glances, if you want her. And if you don’t want her, I’ll help you find the woman who makes you stop in the middle of the bar and lose your breath. This won’t be your fate cousin. I’ll die before it’s your fate.”