Page 6 of Bones

I run a hand through my hair and take a good long look at him, take in all his features. Why had I not noticed this before? The dark circles under his eyes, the tired look of his gray gaze, the weight loss. Have I really been so preoccupied with my side businesses I’ve missed it all along? I know my father well. If he brought me in to tell me he has cancer, it’s because they are out of options.

“How long?”

He shrugs. “Four to six months.”

The sadness nearly consumes me, as the memories of this office assault me. I was only a six-year-old boy when my dad built this office. I remember spinning in his black chair that seemed so much bigger back then. He had the same pictures he does today hanging on the wall. A large one with my mother, my father, and me and my brothers. My sister wasn’t born yet, so she’s the only one missing.Dad always said it was his favorite, because my mom’s smile touches your heart. The black file cabinet, which I have access to now, was a forbidden place for me back then. And the curiosity ended with a belt to my ass more than once.

I lean back in my black leather chair on the other side of his ‘U’ shaped Italian marble desk and clench my fists. “Why are you telling me now?” I bite, because I’m pissed that he’s waited until he’s dying to let me in on our future. If my father is gone, it affects all of us. If he dies and no one is in charge, our entire family is at risk. We’ll become easy targets.

Technically, as the oldest of my brothers, Psycho would be the one to take over, but that would be a dangerous decision. We don’t call Massimo ‘Psycho’ for no reason, and my father knows this. Hell, everybody does. With him calling the shots, we’d have a mob war on our hands in no time.

He lights a cigar, and I open my mouth to tell him he shouldn’t be smoking but decide against it, because he’s a dying man. He should indulge in whatever he chooses to.

Puffing out a cloud of smoke, he says, “I am prepared to make you head of the family.”

I arch an eyebrow with obvious interest as he continues, “With a few stipulations.”

Attempting to appear like I’m calm and collected, I cross my left leg over my right. “And what exactly are your stipulations,Padre?”

He takes another puff on his cigar and exhales slowly.

“You must take a wife. It’s time to settle down.”

I chuckle loudly. “You are kidding, right? This has to be a joke. I have never wanted a wife.”

He takes a gulp of his whiskey sitting to the right of him. “No, but you want to be the head of this family. Has that changed,figlio?”

Shaking my head, I admit, “No, that hasn’t changed. ButPadre, a wife? I don’t even have girlfriends.”

He chuckles quietly before he coughs loudly. “You like fucking, yes?”

I nod slightly, because everybody knows that not so hidden fact about me.

“Find yourself a wife you’ll enjoy fucking for the rest of your life. If I die before you’ve become a married man, other arrangements will be made.”

“Is that all?” I ask, knowing I could argue with him, but it will change nothing. Once my father has made his mind up about something, it’s final.

He nods slowly. “Yes, I look forward to meeting your future wife. You’ve never let me down, Luca. I don’t expect you to now.”

Rising from the chair, I walk to the door and I pause. “Father.”

My voice comes out embarrassingly thick with emotion and, of course, he doesn’t miss it.

“I know, Luca. Me too. I’m proud to call you my son. Go find her.”

I sigh audibly as I walk through the door and out to my car. This is impossible.

I, Luca ‘Bones’ Bonetti, certified playboy, am to take a wife. That’s the definition of insanity right there. And where am I supposed to find a wife?

Finding a woman to fuck is easy, but meeting one that I could stand to have around for a year, let alone the rest of my life? Fuck. This is the worst fucking day ever. My father is dying, and I have to get hitched. If I thought I could talk sense into him, I’d do it. Rule number one in our family; what the old man says, goes. At home and in business. The moral of this story is I am literally fucked. Of course, I have my pretty little Butterfly, but marrying her would definitely ruin my plans for ending her life. Since the moment I pulled her from the barbed wire, I’ve been fascinated with breaking her, until she begs me to take her life from her. Pleading for relief. And I want that. But do I want to be the head of this family more?

I have four brothers and every one of them is an asshole, not unlike myself. Three of us work for my father, and want to be the head of the family when he steps down. I guess I know he won’t be stepping down. It’ll be his death that forces him out. Kage, Psycho, and I all want the position. I know that without asking any of them. But Reaper hasn’t worked in the business for a long time. Not because he can’t handle the bloodshed.

All he wants is bloodshed.

My youngest brother is a goddamn serial killer, and can’t stay focused on getting anything else done. My father pushed him out of the family business years ago. All four of us share dear old dad’s penchant for violence, but none of us more than him. Which is exactly what brings me to a graveyard at two in the morning. Not just any graveyard, our family cemetery. My little brother is quite skilled at ending a life, but disposing of bodies, not so much.

Our family is all buried here, going back for hundreds of years. There are rows upon rows of headstones. They are all gray, but the writing varies by the generation. I’ve always found it fascinating. The ones that have been buried the longest have things written in Italian. The entire cemetery is surrounded by a tall black gate. That wasn’t always the case, but it had to be installed after some creepy ass kids decided drinking on a mafia cemetery ground was a good idea. It wasn’t. We didn’t kill them, although some families would have. I chuckle to myself at the memory, because we did scare the fuck out of them.

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