Page 12 of Unspoken Ties
Just before the tension in the room escalated once more, Antonio Tomasino intervened. “We need to agree on one thing before we proceed any further,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows. His gaze swept over each of us in turn before settling on me. “Does anyone here dispute the legitimacy of Ettore Moretti’s marriage to Leone’s daughter?”
The room fell silent once more. All eyes darted between the four patriarchs. The silence was deafening, a moment stretched out for an eternity. Finally, Tomaso broke the silence.
“I dispute it,” he spat venomously across the table. Every gaze in the room sharpened towards me, their expressions a shared anticipation of my retort.
“On what grounds, Tomaso?” I asked. My tone was sharp, cutting through the heavy silence like a knife.
“On the grounds that you manipulated her,” he shot back, leaning across the table, his face red and contorted with anger.
Gianni suddenly interjected, “Tomaso, this isn’t about vengeance. This is about maintaining stability within our alliance.”
The tension in the room was palpable as Tomaso and I locked eyes. He finally threw himself back in his chair, looking begrudgingly at Gianni.
“Stability…” he muttered under his breath, pouring himself another glass of wine. “When there has never been stability with a Moretti at the helm.”
The room slid into another uneasy silence, and I leaned back in my chair, a thin smile crossing my face. “Then perhaps it is time we adapt to the changing tides,” I said, raising my glass to him.
My mind was a swirling storm of stress after the intense meeting between the four powerful families. I had confidently slipped into Leone’s shoes, but now that I was actually walking in them, my nerves were on edge. It felt as though if I made one misstep, the ground could give way at any moment.
Fuck it. I was more than capable of handling Leone’s affairs. My capabilities are unmatched and there was no reason whyI should be letting the other geezers get under my skin. I would prove them wrong with every successful business deal and strategic decision. I was Ettore Moretti, and I would not be brought down by anyone.
I made my way back to the apartment, feeling a surge of confidence with each step I took. The lock to my apartment door beeped as I ran the keycard over it, and I was not expecting what I saw when I opened the door.
Liria had the oven door open and was fanning out thick, black smoke from the oven.
“-supposed to bake it for ten minutes!” she yelled at Felix between bouts of coughs.
The man’s face was smeared with dark, gooey substance that I could only assume was chocolate. It coated his lips and chin, leaving traces of brown on his skin. Even his shirt bore patches of the sticky treat, as if he had been indulging in it for some time.
“What is going on here?” I said loudly, ripping the two out of the chaos they were in.
Both began talking at the same time, each one giving very different stories.
Liria was gesturing wildly, “He set the timer for an hour instead of ten minutes!”
Felix, meanwhile, was adamantly defending himself. All while attempting to wipe his face clean with his shirtsleeve and only succeeding in smearing it further around. “I swear on my grandma’s grave, Ettore! She told me an hour!”
“An hour for a cookies?” I questioned dubiously. I turned to my wife with a raised eyebrow.
“I said ten minutes! He didn’t listen,” she countered, propping her hands on her hips.
Felix muttered something along the lines of how he liked her better when she didn’t talk.
With a sigh, I shrugged off my suit jacket and tossed it onto the back of a chair. I rolled up my shirt sleeves and moved to the oven to assess the damage. An acrid smell hit me as I opened it, only to find a blackened lump that had presumably once been an attempt at dessert.
“Why were you even baking cookies?” I asked.
“I thought it would be nice,” she explained, her voice sheepish. “A... welcome home gift from me.”
That confession made me pause. Her words were simple, yet they had a profound impact on me. I turned to look at her. She was standing there, the light from the kitchen illuminating her face. The faint smudge of flour on her cheek, her slightly disheveled hair, and the nervous twitch of her fingers all added an endearing quality to her overall persona.
“Thank you,” I said finally, giving her a warm smile that seemed to put her at ease.
Felix grumbled a goodbye and left the apartment, leaving Liria and me alone in the smokey mess of a kitchen.
I reached out for a dish towel and started waving it around, trying to disperse the lingering smoke. “Well, let’s clean up this disaster before it gets any worse,” I said lightly, a hint of humor in my voice.
For the first time in our marriage, Liria giggled. It was a soft sound, barely audible over the hum of the hardly functioning exhaust fan, but I caught it and my gaze snapped back at her. But just as it quickly as it happened, it ended.