Deluca

Due

Francesco stood in his basement room of his house, while the large basement kept formally clean, there was a room further inside made specifically for what Francesco came down here to do. Thirty-seven. That was the number of men who died specifically at Francesco's hand. None being good, all of them each had done something to go strictly against him. All people who turned on Francesco to betrayed him ended up dead.

He stood there waiting patiently for the man to be brought into him. He had taken off his suit jacket and hung it on the back of the chair in the room. The lights in the room were dim, focused mainly on the floor of the room keeping everything grim.

The doors busted open as Henri and Louis dragged the heavy body of Paulo into the room. The man was drenched in his own sweat and even had blood coming from his nose and mouth.

"Lasciami andare, bastardi!" Paulo exclaimed as Louis and Henri threw his body onto the floor. He splayed out onto the floor before quickly jumping up to his feet, ready to fight.

"You want to have a go at me?" Francesco asked while balling up his sleeves, "Alright."

Francesco threw a punch, connecting to Paulo's face. He quickly recovered, throw a punch towards Francesco who easily dodge it. He sent another hit, knocking the man down. "Get Up, I don't want to fight you."

The man coughed, pulling himself up slowly, "Coward."

"It's cowardly of me to not cave your face in, Sta 'zitto." Francesco spat. "Tell me how long."

"How long what?" Paulo asked, Henri shoved him over to a chair in the room.

"You've been selling secrets on me, you think we wouldn't notice the new car, or you are moving out of the slums to a larger house?" Francesco asks.

"Who are you talking to?" Francesco demands.

"I'm not talking to anyone!" He lied.

"Not good enough." Francesco hit Paulo on the left then the right trying to stun the man into confessing.

"My patience with you is thin," Francesco said, "Answer me."

Paulo wheezed through his broke nose, blood, tears, and snot running from his face down his neck. Paulo was only twenty-two years old; he had been working for Francesco since he was sixteen though. Francesco had practically raised the kid from the streets.

He found him working the slums and made him a runner, slowly giving him more controls in the business. It hurt him to know that no matter how much effort he put into relationships it wouldn't matter because if someone wanted to hurt you, they will.

Paulo didn't say anything he just shook his head left to right, "I knew you my whole life. I looked up to you. I'm not sharing anything with anyone, but I can help you find out who did. You know I'm small and sneaky, I can get information out of anyone." Paulo pleads.

Francesco contemplated his words for a moment, he raised him, but he can't believe that he raised him so wrong. Paulo knew what Francesco had to do in circumstances like this.

Francesco took in a deep breath, bracing himself.

"Wrong answer." Francesco mumbled right before pulling the trigger, sending a bullet into Paulo's head, ending his life.

Francesco's ears rang loudly in his head as he watched the bullet shred through Paulo's head sending blood splatter all over the back wall of the room, which was covered in plastic. It seemed as if his entire world stopped for a moment, the same feeling he had whenever he ended a life.

He waited for the tightness in his chest to pass before turning to Louis, "Get rid of him. Send his wife Melania some flowers. Tell her I'm sorry for her loss."

Louis nodded his head, making his way to the body.

"Boss, Giuseppe is outside, he's brought the girl." Henri muttered; his voice so deep Francesco could hardly understand him.

Francesco's heart pounded; he didn't even have the time to get himself together before he would be meeting his soon to be wife.

Francesco nodded his head, contemplating if he should try to quickly run upstairs to change or if he should just go outside to greet them. If anything, they had probably already made their way to the door. Francesco smoothed his hair back before making his way up the stairs from his basement to the foyer.

As his foot cleared the last step, he heard the soft voices of Giuseppe and the girl, his eyes met her soft brown ones. Francesco immediately began assessing the girl, just as she was doing to him. She was petite with tan skin, making Francesco assume she was Italian. Her long wavy brown hair matched her eyes, as it hung to just above her waist.

She wore jeans and a white shirt, simple. It was a far stretch from his previous fiancé, too bad she was solely in this for the money. She may not look shallow, but she must've been. Once Francesco was finished with assessing the woman, his eyes darted over to his brother.

"Francesco, ciao! This is Eleanor Shields; she is the woman I've been telling you all about." Giuseppe's English, as usual, was awful. His accent was so incredibly thick that even he had to second guess what Giuseppe had said.

The girl, Eleanor, only shot Francesco a small smile. Francesco opted to keep his distance, not sure if it would be appropriate to shake her hand.

Before Francesco could give his pleasantries the girl spoke, "What is going on? Why was their screaming and a gunshot?" her eyes frantic with worry.

Francesco went to answer but Giuseppe intervened, "I killed a man."

The words were inappropriate, but Francesco said them anyway. The look of shock that rose to the girl's face amused him slightly, had she not known what she had gotten herself into?

"Elenor, can I show you to a room?" Giuseppe offers, but the girl remained star struck on me. Giuseppe pulled her away to the living room, murmuring words. Not long after Francesco heard the soft padding of footsteps up the stairs.

Giuseppe walked back into the foyer and Francesco prepares for whatever speech he would give. 

"You are not to hurt her. She doesn't deserve it." Giuseppe said sternly, forgetting any and all common-sense Francesco was born with.

A knowing look appeared on Francesco's face, "You slept with her, no?"

"No."

"Am I to believe that? You've slept with my wife before." Francesco shot back quickly.

"Jemma was never your wife. And you never gave me the chance to explain." Giuseppe nearly pleads.

What is there to explain? You saw me happy for the only time in my life and you took the chance to sleep with my only source of sanity. I think I have it correct. No matter how many ways you paint the picture it will still be the same damn visual, you are f*****g my wife in my home. Family means nothing to you." Francesco snarled.

"Family is everything to me, I apologize that I screwed up, but I can't change it. I am trying." Giuseppe said.

"New wife? That is certainly not the way to go about it. How old is she?" Francesco asked.

"Nineteen, her birthday is in two months." Giuseppe said.

"Your plan is so flawed it makes me question why I looked up to you for thirty years." Francesco muttered.

"You must admit, it is a good idea, especially with Bates on your ass." Giuseppe said.

"It is, I'll play along. Is the girl okay?" Francesco asked.

"She doesn't yet understand how I saved her from a terrible lifestyle. She adjusts well; she hasn't fought this at all, actually. I believe she will do you well."

A pause.

"Does she know about me?"

"Not yet, you can tell her that." Giuseppe said.

"You're not staying?" Francesco asked.

"No, I have business to attend to in Tuscany, you have two weeks until I announce the engagement, two days after we can host a party, and a month after you can marry. We can make it very public." Giuseppe said.

Francesco sighed.

"Get out of my house." Francesco growled and walked away.

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