Chapter 5 The fiancée

CESARE

"She's not even Italian!" my father snapped, pointing to the door. "And pregnant? Are you going to have a bastard with an American?"

"I'm going to marry her. My son will not be a bastard," I corrected him, my own voice sounding steadier than I felt. My father's face turned even redder, and I braced myself for the backlash. "You yourself told me to get married, have a family..."

He started pacing back and forth, swearing a few words. The tension in the room was palpable, every heavy step echoing like a warning. My heart pounded as I watched him, knowing that any wrong move could unleash his fury. At no point did my father specify that I should marry a pure Italian woman. Yes, I knew what the rules were, however, when he insisted that if I didn't get married and have a child soon, within a year at the most, I would lose my position within the Organization, he didn't say anything about me having to follow those rules. It was very careless of him.

"Do you think that because you're older I won't give you a beating?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. I didn't answer out loud, knowing better than to challenge him directly. Yes, I had no doubt he would give me a beating if he so desired. My father wasn't a man who softened with age; he was as ruthless as ever, and I knew exactly what kind of man I was dealing with. He was, after all, the Don of the Camorra.

"Father, I did what you asked me to do. Wasn't that the condition for me to remain your Sottocapo? So that I could continue to lead the V&C Pharmaceutical Research Center? And, of course," I clenched my jaw before continuing to speak. "So I could be the next Don?"

I watched as his face twisted with displeasure, the red flush of rage coloring his skin. Every fiber of my being told me to back down, to stop pushing him, but I had no choice. This was the only way forward-to secure my place as the future Don.

My father slapped the wooden table top, glaring at me. Then he pointed his index finger in my direction.

"Don't act smart, Cesare. Don't you dare!", he exhaled and ran his hand through his hair, which now showed some gray strands. "Who is that woman?"

"My fiancée," I replied with a neutral expression.

My father came closer to me.

"Fiancée? Or an actress?"

"She is my fiancee. We're getting married soon, especially now that she's pregnant," shit, I'd have to convince her to marry me. She was quite fierce...

"Why the hell are you smiling like that, Cesare?" My father closed his eyes. "Okay, I can accept that she will be your wife. Did she accept to be part of our Organization? Because there's no way in hell I allow her to become a Varricchio without swearing loyalty!"

"Of course, or I wouldn't have got her pregnant," what a lie. Poor, not-so-sweet Melanie had no idea what she had gotten herself into.

Closer to me, my father took a few seconds to analyze me and, finally, gave me a hug.

"Finally you seem to have figured it out. It wasn't an Italian, but..." he shook his head. "Atanasia won't take this very well. From the way she reacted, you didn't say anything."

I frowned.

"With all due respect, I never gave Atanasia Mimma Bisignano reason to think she could be the next Mrs. Varricchio."

Atanasia. The name itself grated on my nerves. She was exactly the kind of woman my father and mother would want me to marry-obedient, connected, and most importantly, Italian. But I could never picture a future with her. There was something too calculating, too cold about her.

"Cesare, as far as I know, you and her were dating."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. My father hated it.

"I never went out with her, I can tell you that. Even if I wanted to, dad, she's the Consigliere's daughter. I would have to marry her if I laid a finger on that woman and, as much as Ezio is a man of honor, I'm sorry, I can't stand that woman."

"I know... but your mother had hope. She likes Atanasia, Cesare. Get ready to listen your mother talking in your head for a while," he said and picked up a cigar. "And if I were you, I would take care of this wedding as quickly as possible."

I smiled and gulped.

"Tomorrow we will be married on paper, father. And... the religious ceremony needs your authorization. I want to get married before Melanie's belly starts to show."

As I forced a smile and excused myself, a knot tightened in my chest. Tomorrow, I'd have to convince Melanie to marry me-for real this time. And after tonight, I had no idea how I was going to make her agree to it.

I was excused to leave and stuck two fingers between the tie and my neck. Now, I just needed to find Melanie. Magno was nearby and I looked around, but there was no sign of my 'fiancee'.

"Magno, where is Melanie?"

He turned to me and lifted his shoulder.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean by 'I don't know'? I left her with you!" Damn, she didn't know those people! And after some heard about her pregnancy, fake or not...she could be in danger!

"Our mother took her with her... I think she wanted to get to know her future daughter-in-law better."

I cursed my brother and went after Melanie, because Bibiana Varricchio wasn't one to play around!

MELANIE

As soon as Cesare walked away, I found myself alone with Magno and the woman who, if you looked closely, could only be their mother. Magno's lips and the shape of his eyes were hers, even though the amber color the two brothers had inherited from their father.

She smiled at me, however, I could tell without a doubt that she was not at all pleased with the news-no, with the outright lie that Cesare told minutes before. Her smile was polite, but her eyes told a different story. I could feel the judgment in her gaze, a silent challenge as if daring me to prove I was good enough for her son. A part of me wanted to run, to escape this charade that Cesare had pulled me into.

"I'm Bibiana, Cesare's mother," she spoke in a soft voice. "While they talk, why don't you come sit with me?"

I wish I could say that we had nothing to talk about, because Cesare and I weren't really together. And I definitely wasn't expecting his child. However, I made a deal with that man and I knew better than to provoke him, so I followed Bibiana to a table in the corner. Since they were the hosts, I doubted this was the family table.

She almost clicked her tongue before speaking, forcing herself to smile.

"Melanie, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Was your mother Italian?" she asked and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

"No, ma'am." I could see her frown, the subtle disappointment in her eyes. My hands clenched slightly under the table as she asked if I was Italian. It was clear to me now-whatever Cesare had said about this engagement, it wasn't enough for her. I wasn't enough. The realization sent a chill through me, but I tried my best to smile. I couldn't let her see me flinch.

"Aren't you... half Italian?"

"No. My parents are a hundred percent definitely American" I replied, wanting to get up from there. That woman may not have been rude at all, but she was clearly using a tone that said: you are not worthy. Just because I wasn't Italian? How absurd could that get?

She looked at something behind me and before I turned around, the blonde from before appeared, with a tearful face and stared at me.

"Hello," I said, not really knowing what to do. "I'm Melanie! And you?"

"This is Atanasia Bisignano. Cesare's real fiancée."

The words struck me like a blow, my mind struggling to process what I'd just heard. Cesare's real fiancée? I looked at Atanasia-her eyes were red, her expression heartbroken, but there was also anger there. I felt my stomach drop. What had I gotten myself into?