Her tears finally spilled over. She reached up and cupped his face, her thumbs brushed his jaw. Luca swallowed down painfully. His hands twitched at his sides. Nothing or nobody would control him. He looked at his mom through tight eyes. A huge part of him yearned from something close to nurturing from Lucille. Deep down, he knew that this moment right here was the closest it got for that.
Everything seemed like a small test coming from Lucille. Kentrell had put Lucille through hell during Luca’s absence. He didn’t respect her and he hardly acknowledged the fact that Lucille was his mother. She still loved Kentrell and protected him the same way she tried to protect Luca without both boys hardly noticing the things their mother did for them to clean their dirty tracks.
There was also the strong part of Luca that learned long ago that closeness could be taken away in an instant. The same closeness he shared with his father was irreplaceable. Just because Dontrell was gone, he knew Lucille was not the remedy to his mourning.
His hands lifted slowly, awkwardly, signing with restraint.
“I know.”Was all he offered up. He refused to lie to Lucille. She wanted reassurance about his temper when it hadn’t changed. If anything it skyrocketed. His brain was split into many different places. Death was also around the corner for a couple of guards that made his life a living hell while behind bars.
He didn’t feel like making small talk with Lucille, but he knew it was what she wanted. That in itself made him angry. Luca’s expectations right now were her providing answers since they were face to face.
Lucille exhaled shakily, relief crashed through her features as Luca continued to eye his mom.
“I’m here now.”He signed again.
Her lips trembled as she nodded and pressed her forehead to his chest again. She pulled him close to her and held him tighter. Luca stared over her head, eyes distant, jaws tight. He felt his mom’s love and all the weight of her secrets that she would keep close to her.
He allowed himself to enjoy her closeness in the moment because he knew that he wouldn’t feel it once he stepped into his role fully. Luca knew his mom better than she thought he knew her. She pulled back just enough to look at him again to search his emotionless face to see if she could see into his mind.
Lucille stepped back first. It was subtle the way she released him. Luca felt the shift immediately, the way her hands fell from his chest. The warmth drained from the room as she turned away, lifting her chin and straightening her spine. She wiped her tears with the pad of her thumb, careful not to smear what remained of her composure.
Lucille Bonetti returned, the mother disappeared. She inhaled sharply, exhaling away all of her emotions that she felt upon stepping in seeing him. With her back to her son, she counted down from three then turned to face him again with coldness. Her face settled into something polished and controlled. She mirrored the same emotional stillness Luca wore like a second skin.
Power replaced grief and strategy replaced love.
“I expected you to go to the estate first. You need a bath. A retwist. The proper clothes to look the part,Don,” she emphasized his new title as a silent reminder. “You don’t have much time to linger,” she stated evenly.
Not expecting him to say a word back, she strutted toward her desk and took a seat. At fifty-three years old, Lucille didn’t look a day over thirty. Her Mexican and Black heritage showed in harmony in her features. Warm caramel skin kissed with golden undertones. Her high cheek bones were sculpted with perfection and intention. Lucille’s full lips rested in a calm knowing curve. Her dark eyes gazed at her son attentively.
She sat behind her desk with effortless composure, posture straight, shoulders relaxed like a queen in control of her domain. Her all-white outfit was immaculate and tailored to fit her like a glove. The jewels adorning her body spoke of quiet wealth and proceeded itself.
“This week alone, you’ll need to sit with the table. They need to see you. Hear you. So they can feel the transition. You’ll have a private dinner with the Santoros. A public appearance at a government funded fundraiser on Thursday. By Friday, you’ll be present with your new fiancé,” Lucille spoke confidently.
“Your fiancé’s name is Serenity Williams. She’s a well-bred woman, stamped with my approval. She is beautiful and submissive, won’t get in your way… she will complement your arm and look the other way when it comes to other things that you consider personal.”
Lucille’s red tinted lips stretched into a welcoming smile as she gave her attention to her manicured nails. When she looked back up to Luca, her smile stretched even wider.
Luca returned her smile and held it for a couple of seconds before signing to her ‘no’. Just like she didn’t waste time withthinkingshe was going to control Luca. He refused to waste time by making herthinkthat shit was going to work in her favor by being the controlling woman she was used to being.
He took one slow step forward, eyes dark and fixed on her. When he reached the edge of her desk, he decided to knock her off her square by using his words instead of his hands.
“Who,” he rasped, “Killed…the Don?’’
The room went still, too still. Lucille’s body sat frozen, her eyes dropped down to her red oval shaped nails. For half a second, her mask slipped as her jaw tightened. Luca caught it, noted it, and waited for her answer calmly. Lucille looked away then forced her eyes to lock with Luca’s.
“That is something we will discuss another day.” She took in air.
“You shouldn’t be worried about that right now. Your focus needs to be on stepping into your father’s shoes. Power doesn’t wait for grief, Luca. A lot of business has been put on pause, bodies have dropped with answers unfulfilled. I have people on that, just so you can focus. Bloodshed needs to be put on pause,” she added confidently.
Luca wasn’t shocked by his mother’s words. He wanted to know in detail what happened to his father. He needed to know about his father’s entire day. What all he did, what he ate, who he entertained the day of his last day of breathing.
Carefully he watched Lucille. She struggled to meet his eyes, and her words moved too fast. He stepped back emotionally first then physically.
“This,” he whispered, voice low and dangerous, “Will be ran…how I see fit.” He cleared his throat, but nothing would fix his voice box.
“All business will be frozen. New blooded men who have proven themselves to me will be brought to the table. Out with the old, in with the new. Whoever don’t like it, will die. House of Angels is what you run…not the Bonetti Mafia.”He signed the rest of his words aggressively.
“Now you wait the fuck a minute, nigga—” Lucille’s anger appeared before she could control it.
