I squeezed the steering wheel as I thought about what I learned about Francesco. I had a tough decision to make. Do I tell my father? If I did, I knew it meant that the upcoming deal we had with the Russians would be fucked. Francesco was part of that deal; we couldn’t back out now. The Russians would grow suspicious if we told them that Francesco was no longer a part of what we had already discussed.
They would pull the plug on everything, and I wasn’t going to risk that. I had no choice but to stick it out and leave Tomasso in the dark about what I found out. At least for now, I’d fill him in on everything after.
I squeezed my forehead; the feeling of being mentally drained took its toll. At times, being in a family that dealt in organized crime was fucking exhausting. There were many mornings when I woke up, all I wanted to do was hop on a plane and take my ass to a country where nobody knew who the fuck I was. Then it would be easy for me to start a new life; hell, I may even change my name.
Most of the day had already gone by. I called my restaurant and let them know I wouldn’t be in and that they needed to hold down the fort. I decided that I needed to go home and deal with my insolent wife for not listening to me. Then,when I was done putting her ass in check, I would bury my dick deep inside of her and fall asleep with my body weight crushing her until the morning.
The ringing of my phone was a welcome distraction. I cursed softly when I saw it was my father calling. I was tempted to ignore it and let my voicemail speak instead. However, I decided against it and took his call.
“Tomasso,” I said, waiting to hear what he wanted.
“That woman will be the death of me. I love her, but she’s trying to kill me.” My father and mother, even though they seemed like the perfect married couple, had rough days like any other couple. However, those days were something else, which often left my father sleeping in a hotel. Now that I was married, I had the pleasure of meeting the same fate.
“I’m not going home tonight; Victoria isn’t about to see me for the next week or more.” I made a face as I listened because he was fucking lying. He couldn’t bear staying away from my mother for more than one night, tops.
“I hear you, Tomasso,” I replied, shaking my head, knowing he was just talking shit.
“You think I’m joking?Guarda e basta(just watch)!” He shouted, knowing damn well he wasn’t going to do what he said.
“I hear you, Tomasso,” I repeated, about to end the call, knowing he just wanted someone to vent to.
“You should come with me. I’ll book you a room. I’m going to make my reservation now,” I creased my forehead in confusion because how am I in it?
“What? I’m not about to sleep in no damn hotel as if I’m fucking homeless. Don’t get me involved,” I told him. He had a lot of nerve wanting company to stay away from his wife.
“Put your foot down, son! That is what us Ricci men do. Dior defied you, running to Victoria and doing exactly what you told her not to. You need to let her know there are consequences for not listening to her husband.” I rolled my eyes because my father could be really dramatic at times. I had no plans of doing what he suggested. I had my own ways of dealing with my hard-of-hearing wife.
“Tomasso, I’d rather fall asleep next to my wife than a bunch of pillows in the Hampton Inn,” I explained.
“Ok,figlio(son), but you’ll regret not listening to me.” Immediately, my conversation with Catalina replayed in my head. Maybe leaving my father alone in a hotel wasn’t such a good idea.
“You know what, Tomasso, you’re right, book me a room and try to get me one on the same floor as yours,” I told him, slowing my car down because now I needed to turn and drive in the other direction.
“Perfetto(perfect)! I’ll make the call now. We’ll show those women,” Tomasso said right before he hung up the phone.
“I hear you, Tomasso,” I said to myself, shaking my head, knowing he would only last one night.
I adjusted the pillows under my head for the hundredth time, but nothing worked. I was having trouble sleeping, which I already knew would happen. I knew being away from Dior would be difficult when it was time to sleep. It didn’t take me long to figure out I slept better when she was next to me.
So trying to get some sleep on this hard-ass bed in this hotel room was difficult as fuck. Tomasso and I were down at the hotel bar. We both drank until we could barely walk in a straight line back to our rooms.
We sat and talked about everything, but the conversation always came back to Victoria and Dior. He complained about my mother, and I complained about Dior. It was kind of comical how much my life had changed in such a short time.
I would have never thought in a million years that I would be sitting getting drunk with my father, as we both had marriage problems. This shit was fucking hilarious. Dior had no clue I was here because I didn’t bother to call to let her know I was spending the night at a hotel with Tomasso. Giving women the silent treatment was always effective.
After years of extensive research, and by research I meant listening to other men talk about their relationship problems. Because I was never one to be involved in relationships, I learned women hated it very much when you gave them the silent treatment. Yelling and arguing would only give them an excuse to go on and on. The silent treatment drove women insane because they couldn’t do the one thing that they loved doing. Which was talking their fucking mouths off. If they had nobody to argue with, then they had no choice but to shut the fuck up.
To make matters even worse, my phone had died. I only realized it when I got back to the room after drinking at the bar. I was so faded that getting my charger in my car was something that I absolutely wasn’t about to do. Dior had probably tried calling by now when she saw that I didn’t come home. I already know she would ask my mother, who would then tell her what hotel I was staying at.
I knew my father all too well; he would have called my mother to give her a heads-up that he wasn’t coming home. No matter how angry he was and how much he tried to act tough. My father would never stay away from my mother without her knowing his exact location. My father didn’t even know how to put his foot down correctly. He was a softy when it came to my mother. I understood, though, love would do that to you.
“Love?” I said out loud, shocked that the word even entered my head. What the fuck am I thinking about love for? I’m not in love with Dior; I was more intoxicated than I thought. Let me try to take my ass to sleep.
The next morning, I woke up before the sun came up. My head hurt, as did my back, and my mouth felt dry as hell from the alcohol. I was ready to check out of this fucking hotel and take my ass home. I got out of bed, walked to the mini fridge, and took out a bottle of water. I drank the entire bottle in one gulp before heading to the bathroom to shower. By the time I was done, the first signs of sunrise were peeking through the blinds.
I bought a pack of boxers before I got to the hotel, so I wore a fresh pair as I made a pot of coffee. As soon as I poured myself a cup and was about to go sit on the balcony, a knock sounded at the door. Placing the coffee cup down, knowing it would be my father, I walked over to open the door.
Standing on the other side of the door was Dior. Her arms folded, her eyes glaring at me as though she was about to commit murder. If I said I was shocked to see her, I would be lying. I knew this was my mother’s doing. Casually, I leaned against the door and looked at her. Her hair was a mess; she wore oversized sweatpants, a white tank top with no bra, judging by the way her nipples were poking out, and a pair of mismatched Crocs onher feet. One side was black and the other white, two completely different styles.
