Captured in silk

The morning before

——— Valentina

I make my way downstairs, still half-asleep and seriously regretting my decision that left me with only four hours of sleep.

I reach the last few steps, barely paying any attention to where I’m going, when I suddenly miss the last step.

“s**t—“

I quickly grab the railing before I can fall, stumbling forward as I try to catch myself.

I stand there for a few seconds, my heart beating faster than usual.

Perfect.

Apparently, four hours of sleep isn’t enough to keep me alive.

It’s only been a few minutes, and I’ve already almost fallen down the stairs.

Something tells me that today is going to be full of surprises.

I quickly glance around to see if anyone noticed.

A guard standing near the main doors looks in my direction.

Our eyes meet.

He immediately looks away.

I narrow my eyes.

Damn, did I just embarrass myself in front of the guard?

Did he seriously just pretend not to see that?

I straighten my dress and continue walking like nothing happened.

Yeah.

No one needs to know about that.

Especially papa.

As I head toward the dining room, a few guards standing near the door, speaking quietly to each other, gives me a small nod.

I return the gesture and they open the door to the dining room.

I slow down when I see my father sitting at the far end of the table.

Of course, he is already here.

Papa has always been big on being on time. He says time waits for no one, and sometimes a few seconds are all it takes for everything and anything to go wrong. That’s why, to him, being late is one of the biggest signs of disrespect.

He glances in my direction when the door clicks shut.

His gaze shifts to the clock on the wall.

I follow his gaze.

7:36 a.m.

I know exactly what he is about to say.

“You’re late,” he says.

And, of course, I was right.

I’ve known him all my life. At this point I can probably predict his next move. Then again, Papa is full of surprises.

I pull out a chair and sit down.

“It’s only six minutes,” I say.

His expression doesn’t change.

I immediately wish I had kept my mouth shut and didn't utter a word.

“Seven thirty-six, Valentina”

“I know,” I reply softly.

“And breakfast was at seven”

“I know, I’m sorry” I say quietly.

He gives me a look.

“Good morning to you too, Papa”

For a moment, he just stares at me.

Then surprisingly, the corner of his mouth lifts slightly.

“Good morning”

I smile to myself and reach for the glass of juice in front of me.

At least he’s not angry.

Yet.

He watches me for a moment before speaking again.

“You look exhausted”

I look down at my empty plate.

“I’m fine,” I mutter softly.

“You were up late again, weren’t you?”

I raise my head and look at him, surprised. “How did you know?”

“I’m your father” he says. “ I can tell when you haven’t slept”

I roll my eyes and reach over to serve myself some breakfast.

“Maybe I just didn’t sleep well” I say as I serve myself some scrambled eggs, pancakes and a few slices of apple.

The pancakes remind me of when I was younger, when I got sick after dancing in the rain. They were the only thing I wanted to eat, so Papa told the cook to make chocolate-covered pancakes for me.

She made them every time I was sick.

I smile at the memory.

Most people assume that because Papa is the head of one of the most powerful mafia families in Italy, he must be cold, emotionless and ruthless.

But that’s not the man I know.

He always had a soft spot for me. He had one for Mom too.

But things changed after she died.

Papa became quieter. More reserved. It was as if a part of him died with her.

I glance at him across the table. He’s still watching me, clearly waiting for me to admit that something is wrong.

After a moment, he finally speaks.

“Maybe,” he says, clearly not believing me.

Papa’s voice pulls me back into reality.

I sigh and go back to eating.

A few seconds later, neither of us says a word to break the silence.

Then Papa speaks up.

“You’re about to turn twenty, Valentina.”

I look up at him.

“I know”

“You’re getting older and there are certain things you need to start taking things more seriously.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I am serious” I say, giving him a look.

He leans back in his chair, studying me for a moment. “Are you?”

I take another bite of my pancakes and shrug. “I think so.”

He lets out a quiet sigh.

“I know you think you’re serious,” he says, his voice calm. “But there are some things you need to understand as you get older.”

I nod slowly.

“Like what?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead he reaches for his coffee and takes a slow sip.

I watch him, waiting.

Whatever he wants to say, it clearly isn’t about me staying up late.

A few minutes pass as we continue eating in a comfortable silence. The only sounds are the occasional clink of our cutlery against our plate. Neither of us say much.

By the time I finish my breakfast, I think the conversation is over.

I reach for my glass of juice when my father finally sets his coffee down.

“There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

I look at him.

“What is it?”

He pauses for a moment. “We have guests tonight.”

I frown. “Guests?”

He nods.

“The Volkovs.”