SLICK

by Peavey Marshall

  "Tell me..." he mumbled softly on her ear. "Tell me that it was hard, that you were terrified, that you wished you never met me. Tell me that and I'll forgive you.”

  Callista bit her bottom lip as she shook her head. "N-no. Never," she cried as her chest squeezed. "Meeting you was the closest thing to a miracle that I could imagine. I would never regret that. And to me...there's nothing scarier than losing you. I deserve all your hate, your anger, and your disappointment. Don't hold back on me, Castor.”

  "You're so unfair." Castor dropped his right hand to tighten his embrace on her. He buried his face against her hair that his words came out muffled. "You know, that's not how my majesty would answer."

  "I know," she said. "But that's how I feel."

  ***

  CHAPTER 34

  Franco twirled his fork, mixing the sauce of his carbonara evenly. The food tasted great but eating alone in an enormous dining table tended to dampen the mood.

  He gave up the pretense of eating, the utensil clink against the porcelain plate. He leaned back, sighing in boredom and annoyance.

  Franco's mind was filled with Callista's proposal. He supposed she was right that merging their assets would result in more power. But he had doubts that his father would hand his seat that easily.

  His fingers tapped against the mahogany table. Francisco Castellano had forged ahead and continued with his drug dealings. Franco had expected Luciano to fight back but they had been on the defensive ever since the incident at the port.

  Franco scoffed. Winning used to be his goal. Callista had offered the prize herself and he only had to say 'yes'. But fuck, he couldn't even do that. He had asked for time to ponder the question.

  Why was he doing this anyway?

  Althea Castellano entered the dining room that caused him to bolt out from his thoughts. His mother's bob cut was sleek and shiny as she adjusted her favorite Chanel fur coat. She cast him an annoyed look before eyeing the food.

  "Esther! What junk is this?" she yelled.

  Franco remained quiet as his mother showered the maid with uncouth words. She hadn't tasted the food but her complaints were unending.

  Franco began to wonder if his family was worth fighting for. He stood up, trudging to where the older woman was. It was time to confront her.

  He nodded to the maid and she left the mother and son.

  "Mother, aren't you going out? There's no need to complain," he said. He towered over the woman but Althea wasn't intimidated.

  Her crimson lips stretched into a sardonic smile. "Did I ask for your opinion, child?" She shooed him away with her manicured nails. "Go and follow your father around instead of minding my business."

  Althea turned to go but Franco seized her arm. She visibly swallowed in fear as Franco's grip on her shoulders tightened. "Don't you think its time for a heart to heart, Mother?"

  "Get your hands off me, filthy child!" she screeched, backing away like she was on fire.

  Franco clenched his jaw at the piercing pain in his chest. He took a deep breath so his voice remained level despite the tremors of emotion that sparked in his skin. "What did I ever do to you?"

  For the first time in years, Franco saw her mother's pretty face crumble. Her brown eyes watered though she blinked it away. "What? What are you talking about?"

  "Tell me the truth. Why do you hate me?" he asked.

  The woman smoothened his features. She shook her head and spun on her heels.

  "Mother, don't I at least own an explanation?" he shouted after her. "Did I do something wrong to you? Why can't you l—"

  "Because you're not my son!" she shrieked, facing the younger man with turbulence in her eyes. Althea Castellano took a deep breath. "That's why I can't love you.”

  "W-what?" Franco's knees buckled. He leaned against the edge of the mahogany table.

  "You're your father's bastard," she spat out. Althea flicked the strands of hair away from her face. "I only have one daughter and she died long ago."

  Franco let out a heavy sigh, forcing out the emotions that threatened to engulf him. "Who's my mother then?"

  "Celeste Luciano.”

  "What?" he croaked, feeling the air leave his lungs.

  "You look so much like her," Althea exclaimed. "Your father may pass it off but I can see it! My own child died and now, I'm forced to take care of a child that came from sin?" Her voice shattered. "Can you blame me?"

  "B-but... why am I here? I thought..." Franco ran a hand over his face. "This is fucked up."

  "Celeste managed to hide her pregnancy when she married Nicholas Luciano. But your father was convinced you are his son. That's why he started the fire." Althea's eyes hardened into steel. "Truthfully, I wanted you dead. But my damned husband took you in!”

  Franco let out a chuckle. His life was fucking ridiculous. His parents had lied to him. The flickering hate he held for the other family wasn't even real. Did his father really wanted to raise him? Or did he want to hurt the Lucianos that badly?

  "Franco..." Althea's voice came out like a soft caress. He had never heard her talked like that before. "Francisco would kill me for telling you the truth. But I can't do it anymore. I cannot give you what you want. So after this, stop asking me for it."

  Franco felt the edge of his eyes burn. He might not be his real mother but they have been living under the same roof for as long as he could remember. He had remembered running around the house to let her praise his silly drawing only for her to sneer at him.

  He would be lying if her rejection didn't hurt. Because for half his life, he had asked her love, no matter how impossible. Now he knew why she couldn't give it.

  He released a long breath. "Yes. I understand."

  "Good," she let out a small smile. "If there's one thing I like about you, Franco, it's your obedience.”

  Althea Castellano left the dining room. Franco took several deep breaths, fighting off the arrows of grief that made his throat constrict.

  I'm proud of you son. Always.

  "Liar." He curled his fingers into a fist and threw a porcelain plate to the wall. It shattered loudly that several maids rushed in. Franco threw another one that some of the paintings fell off.

  If there's one thing I like about you, Franco, it's your obedience.

  "Obedience, huh?" Franco growled in disgust and fished out his phone. He called the one person that could help him.

  "Callista? Can we talk?" he asked.

  He heard her sniff as she coughed. Sad music played in the background. It was an acoustic version of ILYSB if Franco had remembered correctly.

  "Ah, sure. What is it?" she mumbled.

  "In personal."

  "No, Franco. I have—"

  "Please..."

  She sighed. "Fine. Text me the rest."

  ***

  CHAPTER 35

  Callista felt like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. She and Castor had reached an agreement to give each other space for a while. Of course, she readily accepted. She didn't know how difficult it would be.

  But she strengthened her resolve.

  Everything was her fault for lying and hiding secrets. It was right that she would take the brunt of the consequences.

  Callista rolled on her bed, yanking the sheets to her nose as sad songs permeated the air. Her mind kept ticking. A montage of disasters appeared before her eyes and her fingers itched to do something, something nefarious.

  She didn't like pain. She hated pain.

  But she knew. She fucking knew forgiveness and trust couldn't be forced out of someone.

  The sun had finally risen without her getting an ounce of sleep. She walked to her bathroom and washed her face. Callista glared at her reflection. Puffy eyes and red nose greeted her along with a tiny pimple on her chin. Well, fuck. This was the consequence of eating two dozens doughnuts in one week.

  God, when did everything go wrong?

  Her self-pity was cut short when she heard Amanda's voice. Callista donned a robe and went ou
t. The scene in the foyer turned her gobsmacked.

  Amanda pleaded with his father who was tugging a suitcase. She ran down the stairs, heart against her throat.

  "What's happening?" Her voice cracked at the end. "Dad?"

  Caesar Genovese refused to look at her. He set his luggage to his side. "I'm sorry, Callista."

  "You're leaving?" she asked, controlling the tremble in her voice. "You-You're leaving me?”

  Her father stepped forward, caressing the side of her cheek. "You'll be okay. I set the wedding deal up so you would have someone to protect you."

  "Protect me? Castor and Franco?" Caly yelled in fury. "Protecting me is your job! You're my father!”

  "I'm sorry, darling," he muttered and took his bag. He turned his back and Callista clenched her fists. Her aunt Amanda was murmuring words of comfort but she couldn't hear anything.

  She ran after her father, seeing him place his luggage on the back of the car.

  "Dad!" she cried out. "Please don't do this." Callista grabbed her father's cuffs with both hands. "Please..."

  "Caly." He shook his head and clutched her daughter's hands together. "You'll be fine.”

  "That's it?" Tears welled up in her eyes and dropped one by one. The skin under her eyes was tender and sore after crying for almost a week now. Callista had never felt this pathetic.

  "D-dad... I know that you're—you're a busy dad. And that's okay... I understand. I'm not asking for much!" Callista exclaimed, uncaring of how desperate she sounded. "I know that we barely have dinners and that we barely see each other. B-but still... I need you! You're my dad. I will always need you!”

  She couldn't breathe. Caly wept as her father rubbed her back. Her father had told her long ago that he would leave. And she had prepared herself. How come it still hurt this much?

  Her father embraced her. "You'll be okay, Callista. You're strong. You are so much wiser and stronger than me.”

  She returned his hug and cried harder on his arms. They stayed like that for what seemed like hours but Callista's tears hadn't stopped. Her fingers gripped at her father's hands before she was forced to let go.

  Callista fell on her knees as Amanda wrapped her arms around her. She watched as her father's car left the gates of their mansion.

  ~~~~

  Callista Genovese had remained in musing as another week went by. She had fired their servants until Amanda and Thomas were the only ones left. Eula had wished to find another employer in case things would turn bad. She couldn't blame her.

  Her father wasn't the governor anymore. It meant that the gangs of New York were free to turn to each other. Or worst-case scenario, exact their revenge on her. Unless of course, she would go through marriage and merge with the families who could enforce new rules and protect her.

  Callista felt hopeless before she felt insulted. Why couldn't she just take her father's spot? Why did she need to have someone's protection?

  Well, she didn't want to rule over anything either. Her dilemma remained and she tried to push it away as she checked her bank accounts.

  Her father had left her a lot of money especially the shares he had on Starix. And even without that, Callista had several modeling contracts to answer to. She didn't have a problem in this area that she began to consider another solution to her problem.

  What if she ran away and leave this behind?

  Her father did the same. Their enemies would probably chase them but she doubted they would want to waste their time and limited resources. After all, there were only two families who have the power to find her or her dad.

  It sounded music to her ears that Caly began searching for travel destinations. Paris, London, Tokyo, or maybe the Faroe Islands? Mancora in Peru? Her unending prospects excited her.

  Callista continued mapping out her plan when her Auntie Amanda cleared her throat. "Caly, I'll go ahead. I fixed your dinner for you and stock your fridge."

  She looked up from her laptop and smiled. "Thank you, Auntie. I appreciate everything."

  The older woman placed a soothing hand on her shoulder. "Are you sure you don't want me to call Mallorie? She could stay with you."

  Callista shook her head. She didn't think she could face Mal or Tori without breaking down. And she was tired of crying. She didn't have time to pity herself anymore. "It's okay, Auntie. I already told them I'm okay."

  Caly occupied herself for the next hour when Thomas entered. "Miss Caly, you have a visitor."

  Callista didn't look up as she answered. "Who?"

  "The blond kid.”

  "Franco?" Callista stood up from the couch and marched to the door. She spotted the man and his car by the gate. "Okay, let him in."

  She prepared some tea for them in the living room. Caly arranged the statement of accounts, bills, and travel brochures in a neat pile as Franco came in. He slipped off his jacket and revealed a black turtleneck and slim-fit jeans.

  Franco immediately went for the tea that Caly raised an intriguing brow. She sat next to him and almost chuckled at her attire. Pink cat hoodie and grey cotton shorts. A blatant distinction to his outfit.

  "What's wrong?" she began. Caly had been crying about Castor when he called. She hadn't been in the right mind to talk that she decided to invite him over. She also wanted to tell him about calling off the proposal.

  "Well..." Franco swiveled his head to her, blue eyes gleaming with dread. "I have never told anyone this but..." He licked his lips, searching for the right words. "I'm..."

  Caly grew frustrated. She crossed her arms. "Just spit it out."

  "I'm adopted.”

  "Oh?" She frowned, not knowing how to react. "And...?"

  Franco took another deep breath. He played with his fingers before he spoke again. "Apparently, my biological mother is Celeste Luciano."

  "What?" Caly blinked a few times. "Are you joking?"

  "I already confirmed my mother's story. I only need a DNA test to further confirm it." His words didn't waver as he took another sip from the tea.

  "Uhm... what help do you need from me?" she asked instead. She sucked at comforting people. Caly often wondered how she had friends when her empathy was so limited.

  "To marry me, of course," he declared, turning his body to hers. Franco rested a hand on her knee.

  Callista swallowed, raising her head at him. "That won't be possible anymore."

  "And why not?" Franco's voice had risen that she winced. He seized her wrist, blue eyes wide with desperation. "You promised me."

  Caly grimaced at his tight grip. She pulled her hand back, shooting up from the couch. Wrath coursed on her veins. "You're not the only one with problems, Franco! You're not the only one with a shitty family!" She pacified herself without losing the venom on her words. "And don't forget that I have no obligation to help you!"