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Authors: S. W. Frank

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #United States, #African American, #Romance, #Anthologies

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BOOK: Aftermath
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Their contract was
airtight. A
n explosion of liquid heat
burst forth
and
the greedy woman’s
pussy sucked in
every ounce of
his cum. In this war, he emerged victorious. A killing man prefers not to talk
. Ari lost the minute she thought to entice him with her weak flirtations. He’d seen straight through her ploy and considered ignoring her until he spied those damn breasts and then the game was on. Exclusive access and a key.
She was a horrible negotiator under dick pressure
. She’d
given him
carte blanche
to fuck her anytime
he
wanted
,
and she couldn’t take off and run this time,
he chuckled.
He
planned to take full advantage of what he won
!

 

 

 

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

 

Sophie heard the commotion in the front of the house and excused herself from the kitchen where she was showing Maria the ingredients needed for one of the dishes she liked. The children were asleep and the adults had gone off to God knows where, as adults often do.

Before she reached the door, it flew open and Giuseppe came barreling through like a mad bull. He was topless and barefoot and one look at him confirmed Geovonna acted on her threat.

The bodyguards moved in the house, looking from mother to son, waiting for instruction on what they should do and she waved them away with the flick of a hand. “Leave us!”

“Mama,” her son said walking toward her, “who is my father?”

“Carlo is your father.”

His steps were those of a dangerous animal let free from its cage, stalking a prey. He held her gaze but in his approach, reached out and knocked the expensive vase Carlo had given her on their twentieth wedding anniversary off the marble stand in the hall. It crashed to the floor and shattered as did her heart.

Maria ran from the kitchen and seeing the
fury in the massive man, she hurried over but Sophie without hesitation waved her back. “No, Maria. Do not intervene. This is a day of reckoning for me. This is between me and my son.”

Giuseppe continued forward, punching the wall and a priceless painting dropped and the frame cracked, but he did not care. He wanted the truth!

Maria rushed to the kitchen and frantically searched in her purse for her phone to call her son. Alfonzo needed to be here, he would be able to calm the man, she believed with all her heart. They had a special bond those two.

There were more crashes and a booming voice filled with rage that made her quake fearing for Sophie. Alfonzo was on the line and he heard it, too. When he told her he was returning, she tossed the phone down and went to Sophie’s aid.

Mother and son were face to face. The man Giuseppe towered there, but Sophie was not a diminutive woman in stature or spirit and tilt her chin to her son’s angry face. “Luzo is your biological father, but Carlo is the man who loved you like his own son!”

Maria dropped to the sofa.

“Mama! Mama!” Giuseppe wailed and he too dropped, but it was on his knees in front of the woman he loved and trusted since he was born. His dark head drooped in abject defeat and his shoulders
rose and fell as he cried, “Who am I mama…am I the bastard son of a lover who was my uncle?
Tell me…what I am…do not lie anymore!”

Sophie bent to touch him and he flinched. She straightened and cast her eyes to the ceiling looking for strength from above. It must have come because she spoke in a tone ethereal. Almost a whisper, one had to strain to hear, “I was not married when Luzo and I loved. He was with Gina and their marriage was troubled. I loved him Giuseppe as I love you, but it is Carlo who won my heart. He knew, all these years he knew you were Luzo’s son, but he did not love you less or me. You were loved from the moment you came into the world. My crime is believing it would not matter who your biological father was when the man you called papa is who held and nurtured you like a son.”

The manly sobs quieted and Giuseppe rose to his feet. “
These years I have loved you were wasted on a mother-whore.”

Sophie’s hand cracked across his face, but it did not stop his words.

“You are a prostitute hidden inside the doors of a lovely estate with expensive things!”

Another slap resounded, yet he failed to cease.

“Your lies to me are the workings of a bitch more cunning than an assassin’s gun!”

He let her slap at his face with both hands and none woke him from the nightmare of his life. He wanted the pain to go away and it grew into a fiery ball of anger that torched his flesh. When he looked at Maria, his eyes were sad, broken and in wretched sorrow said, “Alfonzo is lucky to have you. It is unfortunate that you are not my mother instead of this whore!”

Sophie’s hand stilled in mid-air. She
sighed and let it fall to her side in defeat. “You are my son and I will always love you Geo. Your words are my punishment.”

He gave her a disgusted look and hurried from the house leaving Maria sitting in shock. Sophie fathered a child with Luzo. She couldn’t believe it. No wonder the woman wanted her gone. She wanted Luzo to herself. Maria clasped a hand over her mouth in mortification. How could this woman do this to her family, how could she?

Maria leaped to her feet and slapped the pretty face, “You evil woman. You were not concerned for my safety, you lied. You wanted him…” Maria gripped her rosary beads for aid, “Tomorrow morning I am taking my family from this home. I will not allow them to be tainted by your wickedness!” Then she rushed upstairs and slammed the door and Sophie stood there.

Alone.

 

 

 

                                           ****

 

Alfonzo had Lou turn around after receiving the frantic call from his mom,
and then
he put a call to guards to find out what the hell was going on. A dispute, involving Giuseppe and his mother. Whatever, altercation transpiring in his absence was his goddamn business, especially when his kids were under the same roof.

Selange sat at his side, unusually quiet and when she said, “Alfonzo I need to tell you something.” He put up his hand to answer his ringing phone. “Hold on babe, one sec.”

It was his mother, ranting in Spanish
, r
equesting he have the pilot take the
ir
family home. He tried to calm her and she wouldn’t listen. The woman made no sense when she was mad. They were pulling into the driveway and he was out the car still clutching the cell to his ear. Men converged at his side, as if he required protection from what he’d see. The door was opened
without his having to ask and he stepped in Sophie’s house, slipped his cell in his pocket and cursed, “What the
hell
is this?”

Fragments of colorful glass were strewn on the floor
and
pictures were smashed
. The
place was a mess. He didn’t care to know the reason for Giuseppe’s outburst
. What he did was unacceptable and Alfonzo
saw red.

Selange came running up behind him and he stopped her
by putting out his arm and she was unable to pass.
“Get somebody to clean this shit up before someone gets cut on the glass!” He said to the men in earshot.

“Alfonzo, please we need to talk….” Selange’s distressed voice cried at his
back.

“Not now babe,
watch out and don’t get cut. W
e’ll talk later. Vamanos Lou, let’s go find my motherfucking cousin!”

He passed in a blur of dark shadow. The Armani three quarter length cashmere overcoat blending with the night. Selange closed her eyes and prayed he wouldn’t hurt Giuseppe, the man must have recently found out about Sophie’s lie. She was caught in the middle, a place she didn’t want to be. She stepped around the broken glass and went upstairs to check on the children. Thank God they were fast asleep. Later she found Sophie, sitting in her bedroom sifting through family photos with a wistful expression.

“He called me a whore,” she said softly upon Selange’s entry. “My son called me a whore.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER
TWELVE

 

 

Giuseppe finished off the nasty Russian liquor then threw the empty bottle at the window and it shattered. He laughed
. It was funny seeing how easily things can break, even people. He
was cognizant of the body
guards
, yeah his protectors
standing in the corner of the room
. They kept their
distance
with emotionless faces as he vent through drink and destruction
.
Furnishings
are replaceable
but what about the spirit of a broken man?

In his drunken state, thanks to the poisonous drink he wobbled about, pushing over anything in his way. A bull in a teashop his mother often scolded whenever they went shopping
in one of her fancy stores when he was a child. He’d break things. He was a kid and those were accidents, his actions today were a deliberate rebellion against all of her rules.

He flopped on the sofa, not feeling the broken glass in his feet or
his heart skip a beat. The sadness sunk him low and the hard booze left him unable to think rationally. He saw the lights dancing up the drive
.
They’d come for him, his mother’s goons, to kill her only son. Giuseppe reached
under the cushion of
the sofa for his gun. The first bastard through that door
he planned to
put a bullet through his chest.

 

 

 
                                         

                                           
****

 

 

Alfonzo’s polished leather shoe touched the cobblestone,
and then
the other as he emerged from the car and surveyed the tinted window.
A
large gaping hole
with s
pider web cracks ran the length of it and he frowned at the destruction Giuseppe unleashed
.

One of
Giuseppe’s men
came into view and Alfonzo asked, “How is he?”

“Not good. He’s drunk.”

“Make sure security’s tight around the house. Tell your guys, don’t slack off
or they’ll answer to me, comprende?”

“Yes, Mister Giacanti.”

Alfonzo didn’t bother correcting him. Diaz he preferred
,
but presently he had no time for debates. Lou and another burly soldier flanked Alfonzo and waited for his instruction. “Lou, wait here. Don’t let anybody in that
house;
I don’t give a shit what you hear, understand me?”

Lou nodded, “Yes, boss.”

Alfonzo reached for his sidearm and gave it to Lou, “Hold that for me.” Then he marched to the door, twisted the knob and he heard Vincent in his head saying, “A
n angry
drunk
is a dangerous drunk. Always use precaution.”

He listen
ed to the advice and moved to the side of the door, twisted the doorknob and pushed it open. Gunshots rang out and they would have struck him had he remained
there
. “
You
’re
shoot
ing at
your cousin
now
Geo,
what happened to not getting shot?”

“Alfonzo?”

“Who else were you expecting?”

“You should have told me it is you and I would not have shot at you!”

“Can I come in?”

“Of course…
fratellino
.”

Alfonzo stepped into view
. “
Have you gone crazy,
what
the hell
happened
cugino, eh?”

Giuseppe
scoffed, “
My little brother…c
ome here
.
Sit and drink with me.”

Alfonzo spied the gun and the men in the shadow
s
. Why hadn’t they removed the weapons, he wondered? He kicked aside broken glass, noticed the blood pouring from
Giuseppe’s
foot and said
aloud to one of the bodyguards,
“Bring a first aid kit.”

Giuseppe
slapped the
cushion next to him.
Red rimmed brown eyes laughed. His speech
was
slurred
when he g
ave Alfonzo the news. “My mother is a whore Alfonzo. She l
ay with a
married m
a
n and ‘voila’ here I am. Giuseppe, the son of a slut!”

BOOK: Aftermath
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ads

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