“I know, and I’m sorry!” He slammed his cup on the table, slopping coffee everywhere. He cursed and got a cloth, mopping up the spill as he spoke. “If I could take it back, I would! I know I will never be able to undo the past!”
“So why are you trying to?”
“Because I love you!” He threw the cloth in the sink and slammed his hands onto the counter. “I loved you when I first saw you working in the bar, I loved you when you came to my house and let me cook for you, when we sat in the garden and stared at the stars all night, when you showed me flamenco and I saw you dancing ? I loved you on our wedding day when you were doing your absolute best to be prim and proper, for God’s sake!”
“You didn’t love methatmuch if you managed to find thirty other women to fill some non-existent void in your life! I mean, were you drunk every time, or … orhigh? Or did you just not care about the wife you had at home?” she threw at him, anger in every syllable.
They fell silent, both glaring at one another, and then Antonio sighed and rubbed his face with a hand. Alyssia glared at him, almost daring him to tell her that he didn’t care, that their marriage had meant nothing to him, but he didn’t.
“I’m not about to make excuses for what I’ve done,” he started, looking a lot older than his thirty-six years. “I know I messed up, and Iknowthere’s no taking it back, but I’m not signing any divorce papers!”
Alyssia sat in silence for a while, angrily sipping her coffee, and then put her cup down with a decisive thud.She looked at her husband, the rage and betrayal still evident in her eyes, and shook her head.
“You know what?” She snorted. “My father can deal with you. I’m done with the whole sorry saga. You want us to stay married? Go tell my dad what you did. See whathethinks!”
Antonio stared at her for a moment, realising that she was deadly serious. He finished his coffee, put the cup in the sink, and went to fetch his coat and briefcase. As was his habit, he went to kiss his wife goodbye, before catching himself at the last second as she turned her face away from him. Instead, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing himself to at least try and calm down.
“I’ll text you when I’m at your father’s house,” he told her, and she waved a hand in acknowledgement.
He walked out of the house, dread starting to form a pit in his stomach. He’d very rarely had dealings with his father-in-law, mostly because the man was dying of cancer, but it didn’t make the journey any easier. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Alyssia’s brothers would give him a beating - and that was if he was lucky, and they didn’t shoot him on sight. One of the harsher things about being part of the criminal underworld was the likelihood that yourown relatives would shoot you for any infraction, no matter how big or how small.
“Ready for work, sir?” his driver asked as he stepped into the car.
“Not yet, Simeon,” he replied. “I need to run a personal errand first.”
The drive to the Richardson house felt like it took them forever, even though it was only a ten minute journey. As he got out of the car, Antonio straightened his jacket and offered up a silent prayer, hoping that he would at least come out of the meeting alive.
Matthew was standing at the door as he walked up the path, arms folded and a thunderous expression on his face. Antonio guessed that Alyssia had called ahead to warn her siblings of the impending showdown, and he felt the blood start to drain from his face. It didn’t matter that he was thede factohead of his family, or that he was a prominent figure in their world. This was personal, and it would be handled as such.
“I’d wipe that look off your face if I were you, Blackwood,” Matthew snapped, glaring at him. “You’re lucky it’s me answering the door and not Damon, or you’d be dead before you left your car.”
“I know that, Matthew, and I’m grateful,” Antonio bowed his head, waiting for his brother-in-law to hit him. The blow, however, never came, and he looked up to see Matthew laughing derisively at him.
“I’m not going to hit you, Blackwood,” he sneered. “You’re not exactly worth the jail time.”
With that, the two men walked through the doors, and Antonio prepared himself to face his fate.
3
Michael Richardson was still a very intimidating figure, even though cancer had ravaged his body and stolen a lot of his former physique. He was at least six feet tall, with grey hair and steely blue eyes, and he still had the presence of a man used to command. Despite being in a wheelchair, he still wore a formal suit and polished Italian brogues, finished off with a pale blue silk pocket square. Typical Mafia don, just without the cigar and goons holding rifles.
Antonio walked into the room and immediately knelt to kiss his father-in-law’s hand, a gesture which earned a scoff from his brothers-in-law. He deliberately kept his eyes on the floor, not daring to meet his father-in-law’s gaze.
“Antonio Blackwood,” the words were spoken with more than a hint of disgust. “For all your status, you come before me like a worm that should crawl on the ground. What say you in your defence?”
“I have nothing to say in my defence, sir?” Antonio kept his eyes on the floor. “I have no defence.”
“Nowhe shows respect to our family?” Damon snorted, spitting at him. “After everything he’s done to our sister,nowhe wants to come begging forgiveness? I should end your life on the spot, dog!”
“Damon, enough!” Michael’s voice was stern. “Let him speak.”
Everyone turned to stare at Antonio, who remained on his knees in the middle of the room. The tension was so thick you could have swum in it, almost like wading through treacle. All around him, disgusted expressions rammed home the enormity of what he’d done. He could have sworn he heard one of the staff tutting, although he didn’t dare point it out.
“Sir, I have spoken to Alyssia?”
“Youdarespeak my daughter’s name in my presence!” Michael hissed through a sudden bout of coughing. “You who have broken her heart, made a mockery of your marriage vows, defiled the sacred marriage bed … youdareto speak my daughter’s name? You should beashamedof yourself, Blackwood!”
“I am, sir, believe me, I am,” Antonio stuttered. “I don’t even know how to start apologising for my actions, or how to earn your forgiveness.”
