THE MAFIA FAKE FIANCE

ANDREA The car smelled like new leather and the faint trace of my father’s signature cologne which I had grown hate. I have been out of the country for two years and nothing about the black Mercedes waiting for me outside the airport suggested a warm welcome back home, It screamed “business as usual” Marco the old and loyal driver who had practically turned to family smiled at me in the rearview mirror when I slid into the backseat. “Signorina Andrea, you’ve grown.” He said with a chuckle. “Or maybe you’ve just shrunk.” I replied with a forced smile. He chuckled again while he started the engine I leaned my forehead on the window as I watched the city roll by. It was loud and bright and alive so different from the clean and polished streets of London where I had spent the last few years. “Phewww” I puffed out air. I was home whether i liked it or not and I knew the second I had stepped foot on this soil, Dad was not going to be proud. He never was actually. When I was nine, I remember handing him a report card with all A’s. Literally all A’s. I was beaming, chest puffed out, like maybe this would finally be the day he looked at me like a daughter instead of an obligation. He took the paper, skimmed it once, and said, “Could’ve been better.” I laughed nervously. “They’re all A’s.” He folded it in half, set it aside, and didn’t even look up when he said, “You still lost the spelling bee last month. You embarrassed me.” Embarrassed him. That was the theme of my childhood. That particular memory had stuck with me all my life always ready to surface when I needed a reminder of why my chest always felt heavy around him. Why “congratulations” was a word he had ever said to me. And I knew the second my phone buzzed with his text at the airport -COME HOME AS SOON AS YOU LAND- that this homecoming was not going to be balloons and hugs. It was going to be another reminder that I can never be enough. “Long flight?” Marco asked with the intention of starting small talk which I really had no strength to make. “The longest actually, I kinda need a lil bit of rest before we get home” I replied trying to give a hint that I wanted to be left alone, so I leaned back and let my head rest against the leather. I tried to distract myself so I pulled out my phone and began to scroll through old photos from school. Me in the cap and gown standing with classmates and laughing. The picture of me holding the certificate “Salutatorian”. Everyone said it was incredible. Everyone except the one person whose approval I’d been stupid enough to crave. “Salutatorian, huh?” Marco said suddenly like he’d read my thoughts. I groaned. “Don’t you start.” He smiled apologetically. “No, no. I think it’s wonderful. You should be proud.” “Yeah,” I muttered. “Should be.” When we finally pulled up to the house, well… mansion, really… it was exactly as I remembered, the tall gates, the perfect hedges and the kind of driveway that screamed, we don’t just have money, we own it. I braced myself, inhaled, and stepped out and before I could even balance well a blur of movement came rushing toward me. “Piccolina!” It was Maria, our nanny. More like housekeeper, manager, second mom, all rolled into one. She wrapped me up in a hug so tight I actually squeaked. “You’re crushing me,” I laughed, but didn’t let go. God, it felt good. She pulled back, tears in her eyes. “Look at you. So grown. So beautiful.” “Don’t cry,” I teased though my own throat was tight too. Behind her, a few of the staff were lined up politely from the drivers to the cleaners and cooks, basically people who had been around my entire life and few new faces. They all smiled warmly, and for a tiny bit it felt like coming home for real. I heard his footsteps before I saw him, he didn’t hug me, he didn’t even smile, he just stood there in his suit, tie perfect, posture stiff like I was late to a meeting. “Salutatorian?” The word rolled off his tongue like poison. Here we go. “Nice to see you too, Dad,” I said dryly. “You should have been valedictorian.” He said and scoffed. “Top two at one of the best business schools in the world. That’s not good enough for you?” “You have never made me proud.” The words sliced just like always, no hesitation, no remorse, I clenched my jaw trying to force myself not to let him see how much it hurt. “Thanks for the warm welcome.” “Go unpack,” he said already turning away. “We’ll talk in the morning.” That was it… just a reminder that even at twenty-four years with two degrees and achievements he could brag about to his mafia friends… I was still nothing in his eyes. The next morning at breakfast I sat at the giant table, the sun rays directly on me, I pushed scrambled eggs around my plate because I had no appetite. Dad sat at the head while scrolling through his phone the silence was thick enough to choke on. Finally he set it down and looked at me. “You’ll start tomorrow as Head of Administration, Enzo is already CEO.” I blinked. “Head of Administration?” “Yes.” He took a sip of his coffee. “That’s not what you promised.” My voice shook, but I didn’t care. “Before I left, you said COO. That was the agreement.” “You are not worth COO.” My fork clattered against the plate. “Excuse me?” “You heard me.” He stood up while smoothing his tie like he hadn’t just gutted me. “Be at dinner tonight. Seven o’clock. There’s important news.” And just like that he walked away and he left me there, I was still staring at the doorway long after he had gone my fingers were still tight around the fork. COO. Head of Administration. Salutatorian. Valedictorian. None of it mattered. Nothing would ever be enough for Massimo Costa. And something in me told me dinner wasn’t going to be about promotions or congratulations, It was going to be worse… way worse.