Chapter Three

Raphael

It wasn't hard to locate the house; Romano pulled up to the gate, which was long, black, and with a lion engraved. I liked it immediately.

Bruno got out to ring the bell; it was opened by a security guard who looked like he was asleep and rudely awakened by the bell's ring. You can't trust people to guard you diligently; I had a security system. Any wrong move in my house and its grounds, and an alarm will go off, notifying my men and me that there is an intruder around.

We drove in, parked at the entrance, and we all go out. I was the first one to get out, and Sophie was the last. She walked to where I was standing, and I could not help but notice she walked up to me and not Bruno or Romano.

" Wow, this is by far the most beautiful house I have ever seen, and I have seen my share of the" I heard Sophie say.

I agreed with her; the house was beautiful, even Romano whistled, which was the only communication he had done so far, but he was a man of fewer words. Not that Bruno was a chatter.

The two were among my most trusted men, they would die for me, and I appreciated that I might not say it, but I was glad I had them. My life needed people who I knew had my back and could not betray me.

Loyalty is important in my world; people die, killed for lack of it.

"It's as big as I want it,"  I murmured to no one in particular.

" This is too big for one family," Sophie said

"I have a big family cara, trust me, we'll all fit perfectly well here.

"You mean you live with your extended family? You must be really close."

I looked at her to see whether she was serious; oh, fucking shit, she was serious. Who still believes in happy families this day? I didn't give a shit about family; in fact, the only family I recognize is my nonna, which crates at most of my relatives.

They make appointments to see me just like every other person. I do not recognize the of lot them; they're strangers to me.

" Not the family you mean," I said in finality. But the girl beside me was persistent.

" Ooh, you have adopted?" Her soft gaze at me told me how she felt about me adopting; she was impressed, her lovely face glowed, her lips parted with a small smile that melted my heart. But my reaction was priceless; it was an appalling thought. What the fuck would I do with a bunch of children? I hated children.

Before I could come up with a good reply, Bruno threw out his head and laughed, a throaty laugh that I had not heard since he was sixteen when he killed the first time, he shot a rival gang member. Killing changes people. But this is our life; we chose this, we kill and do not lose sleep over it.

Sophie stared at Bruno with a cute confused look. " ours is a unique kind of family, Piccola," he told her; I glared at him,  he glared back; I hated that he called her Piccola, what right does he have to call her that, but then again, what right did I have either to tell him not to? but that didn't stop me from glaring at him

"What?" He asked,

"don't call her that"

" why? you called her care," he argued

I didn't have any defense on that, so I let it go.

And he was right; ours was a unique family. I was a bastard, a bastard in every sense of the word; my father couldn't give a fuck whether I lived or died, my mother raised me on the streets until her death when I was 5yrs, then I lived in different foster homes after that. By the time I turned 10yrs, I was thrown out; I was labeled a trouble maker, a criminal, and a good for nothing boy. I was in trouble. That was a fact; I hated rules; I hated anyone who thought they were better than me. I stole, I killed a man by the time I was 13, knifed him on the stomach for putting his filthy hands on me.

Life on the streets is not for everybody, its survival for the fittest, and I wanted to survive. And I did survive by the time my nonna found out her son had fathered a son outside his marriage; I was too far gone in the world of crime. There was no going back. Yet she still tried to reach out to me, but my father

couldn't have that.

He threatened his own mother, and he would have killed her if she ever went behind his back to help me; she was afraid of him, she still is. He told her I was an embarrassment to him, a blemish to his otherwise well laid out life. Apparently, I reminded him of his one moment of weakness; the irony is, the mafia fucked around,

There no rules in this world, none that cannot be broken. They owned brothels for fucks sake; they treat women like shit, arranged marriages is the norm, he was involved in girls trafficking; according to him, his old clientele wanted young girls, dirty, disgusting old men who thought the world belonged to them. But I should tell them who was the fucking boss

And the fucker had the guts to preach to me about family; what does he know about family. Rumor has it he shot his own wife because she drank too much. A family is a liability; everyone in this life knows that you cannot afford to care, love anything or anyone, and I did not.