Page 8 of King of Omen

His face was a mask of control, not wanting to fall apart.

He twisted from the front seat, where he’d sat beside Mauri on our way to Bianca’s home from the church.

My brother and I used the drive to catch up.

So far, he’d given me a quick rundown of the latest from the family’s business dealings in the region, which he ran.

I took care of our European division, and Alessio oversaw our North American business.

Our last sibling, Valerio, kept order and ran security for us all. He’d stayed in Naples to keep the peace in a fast-escalating war of attrition between a growing number of antagonists and us.

‘Have you met this M. Kassa who’s been organising the funeral?’ I asked Vitto, my thoughts flitting to the mysterious hatted beauty. ‘The same M. Kassa in our email comms?’

‘Nope,’ Vitto clarified. ‘But I have a number,’ he added. ‘Shall we call them?’

I shrugged. ‘Too late now. So far, they’ve taken charge. The service was elegant, the flowers and casket classy without being over the top, and I imagine the wake will be more of the same: well-organised. I’m impressed, so let’s not bother them now. That said, I’d like to catch them at the house to thank them.’

‘Bene,’ Vitto murmured, relaxing in his seat. ‘Freakin’ awesome to see you, brother.’

‘Et tu,’ I agreed with a wry smile, hiding my surge of love for him. ‘You look like shit.’

‘That’s because I am the shit,’ he quipped back.

All four of us brothers were bound by blood, purpose and deep, earthshaking affection.

We’d kill for each other. We’d die for each other.

We also enjoyed each other’s company. Fraternity, life, and Bianca’s insistence had forced us to bond hard, learn to work together and collaborate when many kinfolks in our world had fractured relationships.

Still, our adult responsibilities meant seeing each other was rare. I realised with a stab of emotion how much I’d missed Vitto and yearned to live near him.

‘I gather Alessio won’t make it?’ Vitto asked.

I shook my head, lips pursed in regret. ‘No, he’s stuck in New York on business. He’s still shocked, though.’

‘We’re here,’ Mauri murmured as our SUV turned into a driveway.

I sat forward, curious, as we drove up the sweeping road, heading to a small parking area full of other vehicles.

Guests from the church service, most of them I’d never met, streamed into the house from the cars.

Towards where I’d imagined Bianca lived - a tiny, enchanting cottage surrounded by lush gardens.

However, my initial impression soon changed.

It was clear, at some point, that the weatherboard home had undergone extensive renovations, combining modern design with rustic charm.

Perched at an elevation offering breathtaking views of the iconic escarpment, the house was less cottage and more an unforgettable mountain retreat. With front-row seats to one of the world’s most stunning natural landscapes.

Lifting a brow at the incongruous nameplate for the property ‘Blue Bliss’, I took in the charming yet surprising sprawling acreage as I stepped out of the vehicle and breathed in the fresh country air.

An unexpected peace fell over me, almost like I’d come home.

I shrugged it off and exchanged glances with Vitto and Mauri.

‘Let’s get this done.’

I led the way as we strode up the purple wildflower-lined path and into the oasis of Bianca’s residence.

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