Wicked Games: Bishop Mafia Series 1

Chapter 3

The house stood stripped of its former glory. Built in the early 1970s, it had once boasted of wealth and glory. The wide windows with dark purple curtains, looked out on the surrounding lake covered the interior from any prying eyes. The house had once been under the scrutiny of camera flashes and media attention. Inside, the furniture was old but comfortable - rich dark colored leather couches, priceless antique tables bought from merchants trading in Tibetan carpentry. The red velvet deep - stuffed armchairs had held their weight down since the change of owners. It was only not too long ago, that the house was returned to her former and rightful owners, the Triglia family.

With the gentlest of touches, Michel Triglia carried his shivering nephew. Young Pascal looked into the dark eyes of his uncle.

"Papa," the boy's lips trembled. Tiny hands clung tightly to his uncle’s shoulders.

Gently, Michel soothed down the unruly red curls. For a five-year-old, the boy looked exhausted and fatigued. Pascal's eyes darted as though he was expecting someone to jump out from the darkness.

"He hasn't been sleeping well, has he?" Michel asked the man who had cared for Pascal since the night, Renzo was murdered by Dean Bishop.

"Si." The man replied.

Michel's guest wore a dark brown long - sleeved shirt and black jeans tucked into army boots. His hair was hidden under a black cap. He stood in the shadows. No one, but Michel knew who he was.

"Kept having nightmares. Woke up in the nights and would keep crying. I would have come sooner but I didn’t want to raise any suspicions. I have to be careful." The gold skeleton head earring on his right ear glistened in the warm orange lights.

Pascal began to sob. Michel kissed his forehead. He walked further into the house with Gold Skull following. The house was quiet as Michel made his way up the staircase, to Pascal's room.

Pushing the door open, Michel tried to sit the boy on the bed but the child wouldn't let go. "Pascal," he patted the boy's back. Seconds later the red head moved and dark brown eyes now looked at him. "You are safe. I am here."

Pascal didn’t reply. He rested his palms on his uncle's broad chest, leaned back in his uncle’s muscular arms.

Michel was dressed in a black shirt with the top three buttons undone. The little fingers reached out and touched the silver crucifix hanging around Michel's neck. He sobbed again remembering the same crucifix his Papà used to wear when he was alive.

"Papà fell and I fell with him." The boy's balled fists rubbed his own eyes to stop himself from crying.

Michel sat Pascal down on his lap. Taking the small hands in his larger ones, Michel kissed each hand. "Your papa didn’t want you to get hurt."

"That man had a gun." Pascal's lips quivered and the sobs began once more. He remembered those blue eyes - how they were filled with such hatred. "He killed papà!" His frantic cries filled the entire room.

“Pascal.” A shout came from the hallway.

Michel, looked over his shoulders and saw the hall lights switch on.

Living the ordeal in his head made Pascal distraught and hysterical. He began to slap his own cheeks. His mind began to see the blood from Renzo's body and how it had splattered onto his own face. The coppery smell and the warm liquid on his cheeks, felt so real now, that it seemed it was happening all over again.

"Papaaaaaà!" Pascal screamed seeing his father's bloody body lying on the ground. The boy began to gasp for air as the shock of the killing snapped in and seized him once more.

Before Michel could reach him, Pascal fell off the bed as a sensation of pins and needles began to poke him. The child's left hand began to twitch involuntarily as the tears continued to flow.

"Hu...Hu...Hu," Pascal's breath came in rapidly fast, as his left limbs twitched.

"Pascal!" Michel screamed, leaping over the bed to take hold of his nephew. The young one was now under a seizure attack.

Pascal edged away from his uncle. His young mind was unable to purge the gruesome scenes of his father being murdered before his eyes. Dean's eyes had haunted him each time he closed his own to sleep. He wanted to hurt the man who killed his Papà but he didn't know how to. The helplessness the young one endured, terrified and shook him to the very core of his small being.

"What's happening to him?"

Michel didn't look up as he heard his father's voice. He kept a keen eye on his nephew.

"Michel!" Tino Triglia bent side by side with his younger son. Worriedly, he held his grandson’s hands. "Call the doctors, dammit!"

Pascal," Michel's voice softened. "Listen to me. I am your Zio, Michel. You are home." He lowered his head and spoke to boy, without losing eye contact between them. "You are safe."

Both uncle and nephew looked into each other's eyes. Pascal blinked several times. His left arm stopped twitching. The tears stopped. Very gently, Michel, lifted his nephew and held him close to his chest. After a long silence, Pascal spoke.

"He killed papà."

Michel's strong arms hugged Pascal. "I know, Pascal, I know."

"Give him to me." Tino took his grandson in his arms and slowly rose from the floor. "Let him sleep with me."

Tino's face was wrought with emotions. He had lost his first - born in a blood bath. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. That was how they lived and would continue to, so long as the Bishops remained in power.

Tino looked down at his feeble and sickly grandson, he thought about the events that happened when he had been younger. William Cruise had not been skilled enough to run a business, let alone manage a hotel. William was too kind and too soft in his dealings. That's where Tino stepped in to reinforce deals and partnerships. Tino had worked alongside William, with blood and sweat. The Peridot began to flourish. Roberto Bishop had also introduced several Italian businessmen, his family had contacts with, to patronize The Peridot. Though Roberto had fallen out with his father because of his marriage to Liza, the businessmen still held him reverence - all because he was still a Bishop son.

All three had been friends with a common goal in life - to make it on their own and with a zest for living. William and Roberto became the bosom buddies, to a point they swore that their children will marry each other. Tino, had watched by the sidelines, forgotten by William.

It was at this time, Tino had approached William for large sums of money to finance an idea he had for smaller networks of hotel set-ups. William, listening to Roberto had turned him down.

Infuriated, Tino had helped himself to thousands in the accounts and had begun to talk to some Japanese businessmen about financing his idea for the new chain of hotels. One of them, Takei Nozoe, had informed Roberto that he was unhappy with the way Tino pushed for the deal to come through. Roberto in turn informed William. The result was, a very upset William fired Tino and filed legal suits against him demanding compensation. It didn't take long for the press to get hold of the news since The Peridot was a favorite with the rich and famous. Tino was thrown in jail with a twenty - year service term and the properties in his name had to be sold off to compensate William and The Peridot.

With one turn of events, The Triglias faced a devastating downfall from their luxurious lifestyle and since then, Tino had been fueling the fire of vengeance in his two sons. Tino had always reminded both his sons about the disgrace he had faced.

Michel patted his father's shoulder. "No tears in front of Pascal, Papà." He whispered into Tino's ears.

Tino's silver head nodded slowly. He had aged even more since Renzo's death. Pascal was now succumbing to sleep and Tino edged towards the door. The old man stopped at the door as a silent tear rolled down his cheek, watching his grandson sleep with his lips still trembling.

"Send him to hell!" Tino said over his shoulder, in a voice audible enough for his only remaining son to hear. With that, Tino walked out of the room.

Gold Skull stepped out and closed the door. "What are you going to do now, Michel?"

Michel looked out of the window. Dean would force the marriage upon, Elena. He had to get her away from Dean. She deserved better than that animal. “He killed, Renzo in cold-blood. And he won’t let her go until he gets what he wants.” Michel’s tone softened when he thought about Elena. She was an heiress, a princess and she belonged with him.

He had to progressively handicap Dean, bring devastation and destruction to the Family. Yet, the situation had been unyielding. Roberto had been poisoned. The plan worked but Leo had found him unconscious in his office and his life had been saved. But that caused a rage in Dean. A rage that only began with Renzo’s death.

Michel slammed his palms onto the walls. “How the f**k did it go wrong? Roberto should have died.” He was the first in their plans. “You said, Leo wouldn’t be around.” He grabbed Gold Skull by the collar. “It was Roberto who sent my father to jail. Destroyed our family and he is still alive!” Michel roared, his eyes turning stormy. He lifted the man off the floor, as the muscles in his arms bulged. At 1.87 meters, Michel easily towered over him.

Gold Skull gasped for breath. “Mi…Michel…” his arms began to flay uncontrollably. He felt the oxygen drain in his lungs and his legs began to convulse. He grabbed Michel’s wrists. “Pl….ease,”

Suddenly, Michel released him.

Gold Skull fell to the floor with a thud and gasped for air, breathing in and out as fast.

“I need to get Elena away from him. He must never have her.”

Gold Skull rose to his feet, hand still wrapped around his sore, aching neck and throat. He nodded.

Like a passing storm, the dark mood lifted off from Michel. He walked over to the bar and poured himself a glass of whiskey and rum. The sound of the liquid rushing out from the bottle’s mouth and filling the glass was all that was heard in the room. When the glass was full, Michel placed the bottles back. Lifting the glass to his lips, he took a sip. The concoction burned in his throat but it made him feel good. He sat on the huge black arm chair and rested his head on it. He stared at the liquid and watched it swirl around in the glass, as he willed it. “Dean would give up anything for her.”

He hated Dean Bishop, everything Dean stood for, and everything he's done to them. The Triglias had been cast aside, thanks to Roberto Bishop. The Triglia family had a tarnished reputation and had been forced to live a life away from the public eye.

"I want her, even before his finger touches her." Michel said, suddenly angry, again.

The man kept his distance. “I will call you once I get information. I need to go back now.”

"Trying isn't good enough." Michel's tone was cold and sharp as a knife. "Did you see my nephew just now? He used to jump all over the house and terrorize the servants and yet..." Michel's voice shook. He gripped the arm of the chair to reel in his emotions. "Did you see how broken that young child was? Dean didn't give a damn to Pascal when he killed Renzo. And I will take Elena from him. I will not let him touch her." He spoke as the saliva formed at the corner of his lips.

Michel sat on the large armchair. He hadn't expected the turn of events. He smiled with pride, to know that Elena had grown a spine after all and had stood up for herself. Ten years ago, William Cruise had told his daughter that she was no longer allowed to be friends with anyone from the Triglia family. That was the time Elena and Michel had been bosom buddies as he often kept a watch on her, to protect her from the big fat bully called Dean Bishop.

He had loved her once. Being the goody two-shoes, she was, a very young Elena had obeyed her father and had forgotten about the Triglias. Still, Michel couldn’t help but wonder if he were to meet her again, would he be just as attracted to her, just as dazzled by her as he was years back.

Beautiful Elena was hard to resist, but he remembered, notwithstanding, how badly hurt he had been when she had turned her back on him and followed her daddy. She had left Michel standing alone, getting drenched in the heavy rainstorm. He had cried. Pleaded with her to talk to him. Her response had only broken him further.

"I can't, Michel. Daddy said I can't talk to you anymore." She had cried as well, standing next to her angry father. Before she could say any further word, William had taken hold of her hand and pulled her away. "Go away, Michel." Those were the last words he had heard when she had looked over her shoulder. In reply, she had told him to go away, making him feel weak and despicable.

Michel leaned his head back on the armchair. His pulse beat fast, as the excitement began building up in him. Yet he had to control himself. If he let his emotions get the better of him or let his mind swing too far, it would lead to one wrong move. A wrong move would be enough, to end all his plans. Dean was intelligent and a master of all things sly. Michel had to tread carefully. He had lost too much to the Bishops. This time, there would be no mistakes.

"Elena would never marry him." Michel spoke swirling the liquid in the glass. He stood up, walked to a nearby table and sat on the edge, looking at the recent pictures of Elena on that table. "I know her. And I know exactly what to do that will make her hate him even more. Elena must never marry Dean, you have to make sure of that."

Gold Skull nodded. 

Michel got up from the table and walked to the window, looking through it at the lake which was part of the Triglia property.

Over the past three years, Michel and Renzo had made several mistakes and they've had a tough time climbing up the Mafiaso organization. Very few syndicates worked with them, for fear of incurring the wrath of the Bishops. The Triglias had been forced to rely mostly on their own skills and had seen several small - time jobs to completion. Arms sold, diamonds and other precious stones smuggled and drugs delivered.

Michel was hungry for power. He wanted more than what Dean already had inherited through his bloodline. With Leo by his side, Dean was unstoppable. The businessmen feared the duo's shrewdness and how very easily they manipulated their way around in businesses. Their might and strength was evident in the army Leo had built up all over Europe and was now beginning to expand its operations to the Asian countries, namely China, Hong Kong, Thailand, Malaysia and rumors had it, even India.

The only way to get inside was to get someone close to Dean and Leo. Gold Skull, was a trusted Bishop Soldier. But a few hundred thousand had him shift his loyalty.

"You have nothing to fear.” Michel faced Gold Skull. “So long as you don't fail me again. Otherwise I will leave you at Dean Bishop's mercy and we both know he has none of that." Michel raised an eyebrow. "Besides, Dean's busy with his bride, which means a spy is the last thing on his mind right now."

The spy shook his head. "You don't know about Capo. He can do many things at a time and with Leo by his side..."

The spy swallowed the rest of his words. Michel's eyes warned him not to sing Dean's praises in his presence.

"We will have to deal with them both in time to come. But for now, Elena first and then Leo. In both scenarios, I want to watch Dean live with pain, dying slowly each day. He must be broken here." Michel's index finger tapped his temple. "I do not want to hear of anymore of your failures."

With a frown, Gold Skull nodded. Michel had just issued a warning to him. As he stood there staring at the floor, he felt trapped between the deep blue sea and the devil. If he failed once more, Michel will come after him. If Dean found out, he was the traitor in their midst, the price of his betrayal would be deep in Dean's eyes, an act worthy of a slow and torturous death.

"Renzo's soul will not rest in peace if I don't destroy the Don. But for now, make sure the wedding doesn't happen."