~Chapter 72~
ROO
After my Nonna’s display of emotionless blackmail and fake acting skills, which totally didn’t work on .
Nah, I’m lying, my Nonna’s acting skills were top-notch, and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker.
Not soon after I uttered the fateful words, "I’ll get a bride," that freaking old hag exclaid like a kid who had just been handed a giant lollipop.
Her eyes sparkled with unbridled joy, and she was over the moon and sun, her enthusiasm radiating.
Squealing like a high school girl as she dragged into her arms for a bone-crushing hug.
I was shocked by her strength, considering her advanced age. Her bony fingers dug deep into my skin, making wince, and I didn’t know when a small laugh escaped my lips at her joy.
The hug was so tight I thought she might suffocate .
Her voice began to hurt my eardrums as she went on in planning every aspect of my impending wedding. The irony wasn’t lost on .
I hadn’t even found a bride yet, and already she waxing about the venue, the ti, the color sche for the wedding the, and even the font style for the invitations.
The old woman was getting ahead of herself but I let her have her ti.
My ti would co when I definitely break her poor lil heart, saying I didn’t find the bride, because that’s what I’m ultimately going to say.
But what really caught off guard was when she started brainstorming nas for our future offspring.
"If it’s a boy, we can na him Alessandro or Leonardo," she mused, "and if it’s a girl, we can choose between Giulia or Sophia." I listened, as she rattled off an exhaustive list of potential nas, each one more elaborate than the last.
She had already envisioned my entire future together, down to the smallest detail when I don’t even have a bride.
Hahaha.
I couldn’t take it anymore and I politely excused myself from her clutches, my mind consud by thoughts of a certain sleeping beauty.
Making my way to my room, eager to escape the chaos and clear my head. But fate had other plans.
As I turned a corner, Antonio spotted and stopped in my tracks. "Roo," he called out and I sighed inwardly, wondering what the fuck he wanted now.
Can’t these people just leave alone? My mind was consud by thoughts of my little kitten and I wanted to see her.
But it seed like everyone was conspiring against to keep away from her.
What a sha.
"Si?" I asked, facing Antonio fully, my expression neutral, but my tone slightly showing my irritation.
What did he want?
"I would like to have a word with you," Antonio’s expression was serious and what the fuck is he waiting for?
Spit it out already, my patience wearing thin. Just say it, old man. Don’t beat around the bush.
But he didn’t so I did "Ok, then talk," I voiced out a little sharper than I intended.
I was tired, and I really needed to go to my room and clear my head. Antonio’s hesitation was starting to get on my every nerves.
"Follow ," Antonio commanded as he turned around, walking away with an expectation that I would obey.
How dare he!, my pride bristling at being ordered around like a subordinate.
Stupid old man, who refused to die. I muttered under my breath, my feet moving of their own accord to follow him.
I wouldn’t have followed, it’s just my feet taking with him, as if they had a mind of their own.
We turned a corner and I rolled my eyes in both frustration and resignation while taking in the bar.
The old man was a heavy drinker, and he only drank when he had sothing important to say - sothing that might just piss off.
The estate bar was his domain, a place where he held court and dispensed wisdom, often laced with a healthy dose of scotch.
I had a feeling that this conversation was going to be an unpleasant one.
So, the man wants to get a little drunk and not kill him, I thought, a devilish smile spreading across my face.
Antonio, Antonio, Antonio, what a smart old man. He knew too well, knew that a drink or two would take the edge off, make more receptive to whatever it was he wanted to say.
And, of course, reduce the likelihood of killing him on the spot.
But what he doesn’t know is that I wouldn’t kill him even if I wanted to,, I respected him a lot and he doesn’t need to know that.
Antonio Leon was a man of great significance in my life, a man who had been by my father’s side during his reign.
He was my dead father’s right-hand man, the one person he trusted above all others.
Antonio was a man of unwavering loyalty and considerable power, soone my father had trusted with his life.
And despite the fact that my father was his boss, they had been best friends, a bond that had only grown stronger over the years.
He was cunning, clever, and always thinking several steps ahead. He knew how to play , how to push my buttons and get what he wanted, just as my old hag.
And right now, he wanted sothing from , sothing that required to be in a receptive state of mind. Hence, the drinks.
We stepped into the bar and several of my n, lounging on the plush couches or seated at the polished wooden tables, looked up and greeted us with a bow.
"Don, Boss Antonio," they all said in unison and I acknowledged their greetings with a slight nod of my own, my eyes scanning the room briefly before returning to Antonio walking form.
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