Inizio (COMPLETED)

29. Flower or Weed

"Excuse me," asked Natalia. Stephan leaned onto the table, peering at this man who called himself their blood. Mrs. Fiorentino shifted in her seat, anger seeping from her as she eyed Francesca. Mr. Fiorentino dabbed his mouth, the wine having spilt out onto his chin at the confession.

Amico rose from his seat, both hands perched on the table. He fixed his suit, glanced at a pleased Francesca, and faced the man.

"What are you doing here," he asked.

"I don't think that's the right question. Who is he," Marco asked his father. Mr. Fiorentino rubbed his temples and I caught him peering at his wife through his fingers. The man of the hour patted imaginary dust off his leather jacket and smiled.

He walked forward and pulled out the chair Amico was just sitting in. He sat and hung one leg on the arm of the chair, picking up the fork on the table. A few strands of his hair hung over his brow.

I had zoned out, and when I decided to return to reality, I noticed everyone's eyes on Mr. and Mrs. Fiorentino. I instinctively looked at Marco for answers. He was looking at the man in question.

"Ciao, I'm Cane. Nice to finally meet my siblings," Cane said. My mouth dropped.

"Wha- We don't know.. you. We don't know- how are- you're," Natalia looked from him to Marco to Mr. Fiorentino. Cane smiled, a smile that resemble one I'd seen before from Marco.

"Marco, Natalia, Stephan: I'm your half-brother. From the looks on your faces, I'm guessing you didn't know that. Papa here," Cane said pointing at Mr. Fiorentino, " had a few stops on his trips to Italy. Most of them being at my mothers house." The silence in the room was infiltrated by a small gasp.

So let me get this straight. Cane was related to them through Mr. Fiorentino... who'd cheated on his wife. I felt out of place. I shouldn't be here right now. This seemed too extremely personal.

"I guess all isn't diamond peaches and gold berries in your marriage, huh," probed a wine sipping Francesca to Mrs. Fiorentino. Amico stared at Francesca then at his son, Mr. Fiorentino.

"Di cosa sta parlando," asked Amico. (Translation: what is she talking about?) Mr. Fiorentino frowned at his mother. She smiled at him.

"Oh cut the bullshit, Amico," she waved him off. The she directed her attention back to Mr. Fiorentino. "You thought we wouldn't find out? How do you think you didn't hear from that woman for so long? You made a mistake. Hahaha," she laughed. "An irreversible one at that. Say hi to your son," Francesca said the last part whilst looking at Mrs. Fiorentino.

I bit my tongue, watching what was unfolding before my eyes. Marco's knuckles were turning white from his grip on his seat. I could see his vein protruding from his neck. Instinctively, I reached out and grabbed his hand from underneath the table. I could feel his raging pulse. He released a heavy breath at the contact of my hand.

"Tutti si prega di lasciare la stanza," he finally said after the silence.
(Translation: everyone please leave the room)

I watched the guards who'd come with us begin to leave the room. Amico nodded to his guards who began to step out. Before I could put two and two together, Marco squeezed my hand. I looked down at it and then up at him.

His eyes were masking something. I caught a glimpse of his internal rage before he hid it behind pleading darkening blue eyes.

"You too," was all he said. I understood and slowly stood up. I felt everyone's eyes on me as I exited the room. Being the last one out, I turned to shut the doors. In the crack between the shutting doors, I saw Marco stand up and unbutton his vest.