◆ The Prodigal Son ◆

Valle Astra, Italy

◆ MILES ◆

She didn't block me. Yet. An hour and a half later and the sickening feeling in my gut still threatened my self-restraint.

My fist had been itching to hit something since she hung up on me.  All my fault.   Fuck. I didn't mean to hurt her. I'd prepared that stupid speech in my head last night. I'd chosen my words carefully. And I'd apologized over and over.

Still, it wasn't enough.   It felt like someone stabbed me in the chest the second I heard her sniveling, just trying her best to restrain the tears while staying on the phone with me.  But it's for her own good.  I only did it for her.  And her family.  I had to push her away.

Or Kel would end up dangerously tangled into my family's mess. Again. It always made me feel like shit to think that meeting me only complicated her life.

But if we didn't put a stop to it now, I'd only keep hurting her, lying to her, cheating on her, disappointing her...  And then I'd hate myself even more for pretending I deserved her love.

Being a self-centered brat was kinda my thing, but I wasn't an irredeemable asshole like my father.   I was done taking her for granted.

We're better off as friends.  Right now, though, I wasn't sure if she even wanted to stay my friend.  Maybe after the pain and shock had worn off...

Yeah.  I'd go see her in New York.  Mykaela wouldn't kick me out of her life for good.  Nah.  She's too nice to hate me that much.  Actually one of the reasons I fell for her.

It's no debate I wasn't the right guy for her, but I would always love her no matter what.

◆

"You okay, boss?"

"Yeah." I glanced at Alessio who sat behind the wheel.

He must've overheard my phone conversation with Mykaela, but he knew when to keep his trap shut, which was one of the reasons I preferred him over the other security staff.

"We close?" I looked outside the window to check the road signs.  No obvious landmarks but the buildings we just passed by looked familiar.

"Ten minutes."

Okay.  Just a couple more minutes and we'd be right outside Mamma and Pappa's house.  She wasn't replying to texts again.  Maybe too busy with office work.

The past several months, though, I noticed she preferred working from home. Most of the time Pappa expected her to get more work done, and with near-impossible-to-beat deadlines.  For years now, Mamma had been overseeing the financials of our hotels, as well as SF Shipping's as often as she could.

She wasn't the best accountant in the corporate scene, but she worked diligently and cared about the family business like nobody else.  As the CFO of Luxoria, she virtually had no choice but to care that much.

"Any news from your guys?" I sighed while staying reclined in the backseat.  Part of me still felt like the biggest, most useless sack of shit.  Nothing new.  At least I was being honest with Kel and myself.  Well, mostly.  "How's the party?"

"Almost over. Not as wild as I expected," Alessio muttered with a restrained laugh.  "Ship's still okay. So far just minor plumbing issues in the lower deck."

"Really hope so," I sighed.

Nothing to worry about.  Serrafim's still intact.  Good to know Ignazio Tomassini and his cronies weren't overindulging themselves yet.

I personally met him just hours ago.  On the ship.  Some small talk and birthday greetings...  I offered my condolences.  Blah blah blah...

The man wasn't as haughty and condescending as his irascible nephew.  Ignazio even invited me to hang around for a night of drinking and fun.  I politely declined the "fun" part after the boozing.

Actually I shouldn't be seen in the photos.  I wouldn't be caught dead hanging out with those people.  I left the party early while the guys Alessio hired secretly took photos of the celebrant and his special guests.  Videos included.

Archambault said he needed a lot.  Interpol wanted even more.

Pappa should've been there at the party.  He seemed to be friends with Ignazio even before the merger got finalized.  But Pappa had been playing hide-and-seek with us for days now.

Shit.  He must've found out we were in France.  He probably heard we met up with Magnus and his wife.  Now Pappa wouldn't even reply to my texts.

I didn't want to rat him out to Interpol.  Not even to the local cops, like Magnus suggested.  I especially hated the thought of forcing Mamma to testify against Pappa in court.

Often I thought she's the traditional, younger trophy wife of a full-blown narcissist:  submissive, toxically idealistic, and mostly too brainwashed to make her own judgments and decisions.

But to avoid prison time, I had to make a drastic choice soon.  Hopefully she would understand my reasons.

◆

When Alessio parked my car in front of Mamma and Pappa's three-storey house, the first thing I noticed was the lacking number of security personnel on duty.

So all of them went on leave on the same day?  Except for this one guard who seemed to be snoring by the gates.  Just sitting on a chair and snoring his ass off.

"Roman." I hit the desk right in front of the guy, with Alessio snickering behind me.

My fist startled the guard.  His droopy eyes widened at us. Then he bowed his shaved and tattooed head a few  times. "Signorino."

"Where's Mamma?"

"Inside the house."

"With Pappa?"

"N-No, boss."

"He was here but he left again," Alessio muttered. He stood behind me with his phone in his hand.

"Yeah." Roman itched the back of his head and stood up straight now.  "He left. With his driver."

"DiNozzo?"

"Yes."

"He tell you where they're going?" I glanced around the wide lawn.

Flowers.  Damp bermuda grass.  Typical.  Nothing odd or suspicious.  The place looked normal.  Clean and organized as always.

"No, boss."

"Che ore?" Alessio murmured with a scowl.

[What time?]

"Uh..." Roman backed off and fumbled for something in his jeans pockets.  He took out a phone and glanced at me, his face almost starting to sweat from nervousness.  "Prima dell'alba."

[Before sunrise.]

"Lock the gates. Check the back. The fences and locks." I stared at the tinted windows on the second floor.  No movements at all.  The house looked dead. "Get yourself some coffee."

"Copy, boss." Roman bowed his head again apologetically. He couldn't even look me in the eye.

"Call a reliever if you need to go home."

"Grazie."

[Thanks.]

With Alessio right behind me, I stepped into the house without  knocking on the front door.  Not locked.  It had been months since the last time I came over for a quick visit.

That time, I still had no idea about the child trafficking shit Leandro had been orchestrating with our shipping business—only because Nicco hadn't found out about the top secret shipments yet.  And Pappa made sure no one at the port told us shit about his new business venture.  Selfish liar.

According to a former employee turned snitch in hiding, Ignazio was one of the financers of the prostitution ring, aside from Leandro.  Meaning:  that geriatric perv most likely tested their "imported products", too.

Fucking soulless creeps.  "Why's it so dark in here?" I scowled at the dimness. The house looked abandoned. Clean and orderly as per usual, but deathly silent. "Mamma?"

No answer.  No other noises except our footsteps.

With his matte black gun stuck underneath his leather belt, Alessio switched on some lights in the hall and kitchen.  He stared at the quiet S-shaped staircase while I hesitated.  "I'll check the master."

"Yeah. Go," I muttered, taking a step closer to the stairs. We checked the second floor with caution.  As I tried to ring my mother's new number, my hands and pits started to sweat.

No answer.  Shit.  Just nonstop ringing like earlier.

"Mamma!" A weird tightness in my chest dove into my gut when I didn't hear anything.

Or anyone.  Where were the damned maids?  The heck's my mother doing?  Why wouldn't she pick up?

The house stayed too quiet after Alessio checked the third floor all by himself.  "Negative," he murmured with a quick sigh, his forehead wrinkled by a frown.

"Shit. Where is she?" I mumbled to myself while masking my nervousness with annoyance. This dark, big-ass empty house wasn't calming my thoughts at all. "Mamma?"

Empty master bedroom.  No sign of Pappa anywhere.  Mamma's not picking up, still.

"Garden?" Alessio muttered while his hands rested on his hips.

"Maybe. Do a perimeter check."

"I'll be back in a minute." He rushed down the stairs before I could think of where to look next.

It didn't take me ten seconds to reach one of the smaller rooms in the corner of the second floor.  Not really a guest room.  It was my old room, the door almost completely hidden by a large bookshelf.

My custom-designed bookshelf...the only thing that didn't look depressingly cold and empty in this old house.  The place didn't look old and used, though.  Thanks to my mother's OCD.

The cold doorknob held my attention for a moment before I opened the door and carefully stepped inside the room.

Warm. There's a hint of lavender in the stale air. No lights on.  But there's an outline of a curled up figure on the bed.  Female.

"Mamma?"  I sighed and switched the lights on.

No reply.  Her silk robe looked purple, only slightly wrinkled.  She had her back to me, lying on the right side of the bed, almost too still.  No noises or muffled sounds coming from her or her phone.  Her long hair was splayed all over the pillow—my old pillow—matching the dark brown bedsheets.

The closet doors had been left open.  My old clothes lay scattered all over the hardwood floor.  "Mamma."  I stepped closer to the other side of the bed.

Shit.

Whose gun was on the nightstand?

◆