My Future Brother-In-Law

Chapter3

It’s a hot day, sunlight burns the courtyard of my family estate but the breeze kept me from melting into a puddle. I listened to Billie Holiday croons from a nearby speaker. That silky voice dripped like honey. I could smell food mixed with the scent of roses heaving at the memories I’ve long lost

I sat there, feeling so awkward out of place, pretending I felt among. They were chattering around me so loud and so.. absurd. it felt like background noises. The tension was louder than anything, the way Tony gaze flickers to Marcino then away, the way Aria talks over everyone.

Marcino Scuderi. I catch his profile across the table, the sharp cut of his jaw, his tattoo showing under his sleeve. “Ace” I was curious though maybe I was scared. Definitely he's my future brother in law, if all goes according to plan. Something keeps bothering me. Marcino a man you don’t piss off, yet am here staring at him too long. f**k!

Aria voice stopped my thoughts, she is halfway some wild story talking about cops and drugs. She is so loud and completely unfazed by the world.

“Aria!!” Marcino voice rumbles warning, his eyes flash her way, she rolled her eyes but kept shut.

Drinking from my glass of water, everyone seems to be too calm, trying to ignore the heat climbing up my skin, I looked at the rose lining the courtyard. Mom planted those years ago. Beautiful they flourished in spite of everything. A familial façade. Beautiful on the outside but underneath are thorn.

"I watch the chaos, wondering where these people come from. Aria laughs loudly, switching topics to horse races. But no one else is laughing. The room stays tense."

Shifting in my sit, I looked at Marcino again, I shouldn’t be looking at him. The tattoos in his arms showed again beneath his sleeves. He was so controlling. The way he moves, makes my heart race for all the wrong reason

"I shift uncomfortably, aware I shouldn't be looking at Marcino His presence feels dangerous. His tattoos and tailored suit are a jarring contrast. Every move he makes seems deliberately controlled, and it unsettles me."

"Our eyes meet across the table. My heart skips a beat. I try to look away, but for a second, nothing else matters. Then I snap back to reality."

"Uncle Manuel's voice cuts in, sharp and inquisitive "Meralda, your recital's coming up, isn't it?

“Yeah,” I mutter, now aware that everyone’s looking at me. The eyes feel like a spotlight, and I’m exposed. Especially with Marcino still watching, always watching.

"Aria speaks up again. "Hey, teach me how to dance, okay? I desperately need it!" She chuckles at her own joke. I force a smile, feeling like I'm pretending to be someone I'm not."

"The conversation takes a dark turn when Dad brings up his new shooting range. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, my stomach hurt as the men talked about guns.

Damn! Tony is too quiet. That’s when I know something is wrong, his usual smirk is gone and his eyes with intensity. Dante Scuderi, Marcino’s cousin says something under his breath. Sarcastic. I could tell by the tone.

“Don’t think I caught the joke, Scuderi,” Tony’s voice is soft, but there’s a deadly authority to it.

Dante leans back in his chair, unfazed. “Just got better things to do than watch a bunch of D’Luca’s’ miss targets.”

The insult, A threat. I know Tony. I know he’s not letting this slide. My hands tighten in my lap, nails digging into my skin as the tension around the table sharpens else, into something dangerous.

Before I can even process what’s happening, Dante moves. In one smooth motion, he grabs me, yanking me up from my seat, pressing something cold and hard against my temple. My heart stops. A gun.

I was sacred, everything went blur, the family’s voice melted into a dull roar. The metal dug into my skin and all I could think of is how this is about to end.

“Put it down, Dante,” Marcino’s voice cuts through the chaos, calm and deadly, like he’s ordering a drink, not diffusing a situation with a gun to my head.

“He killed Piero!” Dante’s voice shakes, but he keeps the gun steady. I feel the tremble of his rage against my body.

I close my eyes, focusing on the soft rustle of the roses. If this is how I die, at least the last thing I see will be beautiful.

Then there’s a loud bang. Everything freezes. Warm blood splatters my face, its metallic stench filling my nostrils. Time slows as Dante's lifeless body collapses beside me.

The smell of gunpowder and sweat hangs in the air, the sounds of chairs scraping as everyone moves, but I can’t. My ears are ringing. Marcino’s gun is still smoking, his expression calm, unbothered, like he’s done this a thousand times before.

“Sit the f**k down,” my father barks, fury coating his voice. “We’re finishing this goddamn lunch.”

I sink back into my chair, blood trickling down my cheek, tasting like iron. I pick up my fork and take a bite of tiramisu, but it tastes like nothing. My hands shake as I lower the fork, staring blankly at the dessert.

Above me, the sky is a perfect blue. It shouldn’t be this beautiful. Not after what just happened.