The Mafia's Legacy

Chapter 2: The Russo's

Victoria P.O.V

The rain has finally started falling by the time Victoria arrives home. The freshly mowed bright green grass deepens in color, barricading the long gray driveway leading toward the old Italian mansion which is covered in dark green vines along one side. It reminds Victoria of a beacon stretching high into the thunderous sky.

Halfway down the driveway, with her red umbrella tucked tightly against her shoulder and her bag pulled around to thump across the front of her thigh, she passes the regal statue in the center of the gray brick fountain. The lady stands tall like always, looking like a dancer in the rain as fat drops pelt against her stone white skin.

“Beautiful as always Lady Ludovica." Victoria tips her chin down, a small smile gracing her lips as she addresses the statue. She continues onwards, the smell of wet bark and soil reaching her nose as she nears the staircase. A glance to the left and right of the concrete railing shows pruned red and white roses soaring high above freshly laid mulch with worms swimming underfoot of the two adjacent statues.

Victoria chuckles, making a point to look into the tearful eyes of each statue while climbing the staircase. “Looks like you'll have to do some groundwork once the rain stops, Mr. Leonardo and Mr. Lorenzo."

“Talking to the statues again, Signora?"

Victoria recognizes the deep male voice and instantly rolls her eyes before glancing toward the top of the staircase. Richard, the head of the Russo security team, is leaning against the open double wooden door frame, hands in the pockets of his black chino pants. His lips are curved into a lopsided smirk, but his dark chocolate brown eyes look strained and alert instead of their usual bright mirth.

Victoria narrows her eyes slightly as she lowers her umbrella and wipes her shoes on the mat. “Just because they are made of stone doesn't mean they don't have feelings like you and me, Richard." She shakes the rain off the umbrella before placing it in the stand on the side of the door. “Is the rain starting to chill your old bones? You look tired."

“Just a long day." Richard's smirk is replaced by something softer and he tilts his head inside the house. “Signor Giuseppe is in his office. The Amato's will be here in under an hour."

“Thanks." Victoria leans forward and kisses both his cheeks before heading inside the house.

The warmth of the fireplace in the living room off to the right engulfs the whole house, stuffing if full of the rich smell of burning wood. Victoria pauses at the large marbled table in the center of the entrance to take off her coat so that the sodden ends of the long brown material doesn't trek across the white tiles.

The sound of Richard closing the doors behind her blends in with the whips cracking through the clouds as the lights flicker. She glances between the crystal chandelier directly above her and the one above the crossroads of the staircase in front of her.

“I'll tell Maria to get the candles ready," Richard mentions. Victoria hums her agreement and watches as he heads to the left hallway, past the formal dining room already set for the evening, toward the kitchens. She waits till his footsteps are a distant echoing before closing her eyes and breathing deeply.

The air is filled with electricity, and she suspects it's not just from the storm raging outside. Tiny sparks dance along her arms, making her hair stand as straight as poles along her olive skin. Tonight is either going to go really well, or terribly wrong.

She opens her eyes, hangs her coat in the coat room on the right of the front doors, and ambles up the stairs. She lets her fingers drag lightly against the cool banister, eyes trained on the massive family portrait hanging on the wall. She was ten when the portrait was painted, her silky pale pink princess dress was a younger, more innocent version of her mother's elegant deep red dress. Even her father was matching with them in his dark maroon dress shirt and handkerchief, his emerald eyes sparkling just like hers.

She blinks and turns her head away from the photo, from the memory of the bright sunny day it was painted, and turns right, continuing up the staircase toward the East wing of the house. Her father's office is the first door on the left, the twin Italian wooden doors a dark contrast where they're nestled in the arch against the white walls.

Victoria knocks twice before opening one side of the doors and steps into the room. Immediately intense woodpine and smoky Toscano slams into her nostrils and, for half a heartbeat, she thinks the portrait of her father has come alive and somehow slipped through the walls to beat her into the room. The once striking form of her father with his black Italian satin suit, black leather dress shoes and dark silk maroon shirt and handkerchief she is so used to eyeing on the staircase now sits in the 3D world atop the dark brown velvet lounge which separates the fireplace from the horizontal window in the back right corner.

It's only when dull forest green eyes, etched deep with worry, instead of sparkling green emeralds turn to face her, thin lips popped upon around a lit cigar, does she realize her silly behavior.

“Bella, you're home. How was class?" Giuseppe stands from his seat. He lowers the cigar from his thin lips as his tense jaw relaxes, lifting the tight frown into a smooth smile. His eyes shutter and lighten as if he's blinked the dark thoughts out of his brain altogether.

'Not quick enough,' Victoria thinks as she greets her father with a kiss on either cheek. “Sì, Papa. Class was fun today. Cora says hi, too."

Giuseppe walks around to his long wooden desk in the middle of the room, motioning for Victoria to take a seat in one of the beige wingback cushioned armchairs in front of it. “Ah, Cora, Cora yes. Smart girl, that one. She's doing well in classes too, I assume?" At Victoria's nod he continues. “Well, you're home just in time. The Amato family will be here soon, I believe Elina is already in your room getting your dress ready."

Victoria nods again. She glances toward an open folder on the side of the desk, the red capitalized letters spelling out 'Bianchi in movimento' catching her eyes. 'Bianchi moving,' she muses. As far as she knew, they've never done business with the Bianchi family before. Her father always claimed that family to be 'too rambunctious to move forward in business with.'

She reaches out to twist the pine scented candle around. “Is there anything else I need to know?"

“What do you mean Bella? Eh, anything else?" Giuseppe extends his arms in front of him, guesting around the room. “You want me to, what, tell you how long to have a shower for?"

Victoria huffs a silent laugh, “No, Papa. I'm just worried is all. Everyone seems on edge, even Richard."

“Bah, it's Richard's job to be on edge." Giuseppe starts waving his hands in front of him even before Victoria finishes talking. “Now, listen to me, Bella." Victoria purses her lips as Giuseppe walks around the desk and places a hand on her shoulder, leading her toward the door. “There is nothing for you to worry about, hm. You trust me?"

Victoria wraps her arm around her father's waist, leaning into his side as they stroll to the doors. “Sì, Papa. You know I do."

“Then do not stress, Cara Mia." Giuseppe rubs his hand on her shoulder before giving her a kiss on the temple. “Unless it is about which pair of shoes to wear tonight, hm?"

Victoria laughs in tune with Giuseppe. “I'm sure Mama won't let that happen."

Giuseppe's husky laughs rings out once more. “No, I'm sure she won't. Knowing her, whatever she's chosen for you to wear will match Signor Antoni tonight, as a sign of solidarity."

Victoria's smile falters. Her voice is quiet when she asks, “So, Antoni is definitely coming tonight?"

Giuseppe takes a puff of his cigar and nods. “It should be good, Bella! He's been overseas for so long, so make sure tonight you welcome him with open arms, va bene?"

“Mhm, it's been way too long." Victoria clenches her hands behind her back to hide her shaking fingers as the smell of steel and iron flicks across her memory. She licks her lips and forces a lighthearted chuckle to escape. “I can't wait."