Death Between Your Lips

Remember Me?

I met him for the first time on the day I turned sixteen. He had been holding flowers and chocolate, had on big glasses, freckles, acne, and pants that were two sizes too big.

Now, I met him again at twenty-six. He had a tattoo on the side of his neck, a gold ring pierced into his lower lip, his eyes thin, his thumb hovering above the trigger of the gun he was toying around with as he held my gaze.

"Remember me?"

I could barely breathe as I watched him. Memories of that first meeting filled my head, and I stood there, my hand resting on the gun strapped to my thigh, but something wouldn't let me pull it out.

He had been the overweight nerd who stammered one too many times. Who could never bag any girls, much less someone like me.

But that was then. The man who stood in front of me was nothing even close to that boy, and I could tell from the way he watched me.

His eyes had been tender back then, then full of tears, and then closed with bruises. Now they were filled with a sense of hatred, like he could snap me in two.

"Ginevra."

I turned, my chest heaving. My father, Don Matteo was standing by the door, by his side, an even taller man, who sported the same sort of neck tattoo that Leone had, and the sort of attitude that made it easy to know he was most probably Leone's father, even without the semblance.

Leone laughed, and slowly, he put his gun away, then took a step back.

"Don Matteo," he said, venom lacing his words. "We meet again."

I blinked, taking in a sharp breath as my father slowly walked down to us.

"We meet again, Don Leone."

Leone never replied my father, and the taller man came between them.

"You seem to already know Leone. He is all set to be announced as the official Godfather. He has also taken over all of Brave Hearts."

My lips parted as I slowly turned to Leone. Brave Hearts? Putting aside the fact that he was just another scholarship boy who was never involved with the mafia, and could never have gotten the guts overnight to just scale up the ladder this way, he was with Brave Hearts? Our very own enemies?

"Let's sit," my father said, his voice low and polite, more polite than I have ever seen him in my life.

He was, for one, rash. Powerful. He was never the type to submit, never the type to care about the other person. And that is exactly how he raised me too.

I took a seat as my father came to sit opposite me, then rested a hand on my thigh.

"This is my daughter, Ginevra. She has been assisting me with the cartel, and is getting ready to lead too."

Leone was silent, but I could feel his stare piercing through me. I could feel the sting of his eyes, and despite everything, I could not bring myself to look up to him.

"She is beautiful, but of course. Shall we order and then enjoy a pleasant atmosphere while we discuss the way forward?"

I swallowed hard. Am I supposed to wine and dine with Leone sitting away from me, staring at me like if our parents had not come back when they did, he would kill me? Am I supposed to wine and dine with the people from that group? The people who gave me my biggest scar?

I had come here at my father's behest, thinking that it would be a meeting to discuss the recent killings of our men and the stolen diamonds. Now, sitting here, I wasn't even sure what I am supposed to be doing. What I am supposed to be saying.

"Why am I here?" I asked finally, my eyes looking up to meet Leone's.

His eyes were calm, so dead that he looked asleep.

There was a bit of awkward silence, before my father leaned closer and gently patted my back. "Let us eat first."

"I need to know," I insisted, turning to my father.

He had this hesitant look that only agitated me more, and I stood up, shrugging his hand off my back.

"I will take my leave. You know of everything that has been going on in the cartel, and the men that we have lost. I shall try to find a solution for that, and you can, by all means, enjoy a meal with our enemies."

Leone gave a small scoff, and his father fully laughed, clapping his hand like I had just told one of his favorite jokes.

"She is feisty. I believe it will be one beautiful union."

I didn't reply, and grabbed the clutch purse that I had come with, then started to walk away.

"They are not enemies anymore, Gine," Father said, his voice low.

I stopped and turned to him, and he was standing now, his eyes solemn, his lips slightly pursed.

"What does that mean?" I asked, facing him fully. "Brave hearts have always tried to ruin us. Did you forget about the accident that cost us mom?! Have you forgotten that brave hearts was behind the stack of diamonds we lost? Uncle Alessandro. Did you forget?"

My emotions were heightened, and I could feel all of the anger I felt towards Brave Hearts and everyone in there resurface again. I do not care if I have wronged Leone before, but if he is a part of Brave Hearts, then he is my enemy too, and he will always be. Always.

"Things like that happen in business, Ginevra," Leone said, bringing a cigar to his lips as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs.

I looked past my father to Leone, who had lit up the cigar now, his right brow arched.

"Business? What did my mother do? What the f**k was the business with my mother?!"

"You are still inexperienced," he said, still very calmly. "In business, there are casualties. Your mother may have been one, and you are about to be another. At the very least, I can believe that your father knows that business should not collapse due to sentiments."

My eyes widened, and all of the inhibitions that had stopped me from drawing my gun on him a few minutes ago immediately fell away.

I pulled it straight out of the garter belt on my thigh and covered the distance, the round edge of my gun aligned with the space between his eyes as I looked down to him.

I could hear the annoying laughter from his father, and it only made me want to pull this trigger even more.

In hindsight, taking the enclosed VIP section of the restaurant was the best choice for this ill fated meeting, or we would have more than just a few pairs of eyes watching us.

"Say that again," I hissed, my jaws clenched. "f*****g say it again!"

He looked up to me, his eyes hidden by his dark lashes, the smoke from his cigar humming around my gun.

Silence fell between us for a minute, before he suddenly stood up, covering the distance to me, till my gun was actually touching him, till he towered above me.

"Your mother was a casualty. Collateral damage if you will. And you, sweetheart, are about to be yet another."

"Ginevra, enough!" Father yelled suddenly, then turned to me, a small breath escaping him. "Your mother died due to an accident."

"Because they blocked every path in the city! Because they took the sick man who agreed to donate his heart! Are you really going to overlook that?"

"Yes," he said simply, like he was answering to something as simple as wanting extra sugar with his customary afternoon tea.

"Dad," I said, my voice low.

He closed his eyes. "They are our last option, Ginevra. If I do nothing, more of our men will die. More of our fortune will be lost. The enemy of an enemy is a friend, Ginevra. That.... that is the first rule you should know."

Leone's father finally stood up, then cleared his throat.

"You should have convinced her before we came, Matteo. We are extremely busy men."

"No," my father said, his eyes holding mine. "She is professional. She wouldn't put emotions above everything she has sacrificed for the business."

My lips parted, and a single tear ran down my face, my left fingers clenched hard.

"I do hope so," Leone's father said again. "We are not very good with second chances or forgiveness. My mood has been ruined, so talk to your daughter and communicate the date of the wedding. I shall have an assistant get all of the details ready once that is done."

Leone's father walked away, and Leone slowly let his gaze meet mine.

He raised two fingers and moved the gun from his face, then pulled a ring out of his pocket. He balanced it on the edge of the gun, then broke into a smile.

"Consider us engaged," he said simply, then walked away, trampling on the pieces of my world that they had just shattered.