Mr. Mysterious In Black

by S. Ann Cole

  What century was I in again? What country?

  My teeth sank harder into my lip as I tried to suppress my threatening laughter. But I had to let my lip loose from the grip of my teeth when I tasted the metallic tinge of blood.

  I was seated between Natalio and a plump, chattering aunt. Across from us sat Trevillo and Lovello. Their ascendant of a father sat at the head of the table, with Melinda on one side and Princessa of the other. The table was laden with fruits and delicacies, crystal glasses—no less, and the finest silver wares. The waiters came around filling our glasses with water and wine while the heavy commanding voice of Marcello Nelson welcomed and wished all the enjoyment of their monthly family dinner…

  “The family that prays and eats together, stays together. We must never be too busy, too wealthy, or too proud for family. Because after everyone has failed us, we can always count on family.” He took a sip of his water and continued. “And to my children, you all know I love you dearly and I want only the best for you. This verse I shall continue to preach to you at every Third Sunday Dinner until I breathe no more: ‘My children, listen when your father corrects you. Pay attention and learn good judgment, for I am giving you good guidance. Don’t turn away from my instructions. For I, too, was once my father’s son. My father taught me, “Take my words to heart. Follow my commands, and you will live. Get wisdom; develop good judgment. Don’t forget my words or turn your back on them. Don’t turn your back on wisdom, for she will protect you. Getting wisdom is the wisest thing you can do!” My child, listen to me and do as I say, and you will have a long, good life. When you walk, you won’t be held back. When you run, you won’t stumble. Take hold of my instructions, don’t let them go. Guard them, for they are the key to life. My sons, guard your heart above all else, for it will determine the course of your life.”

  The last sentence made me wince, as those were the same words Natalio had said to me when I’d begged him to take me back. And I began to wonder, Was I bad for him? Was I not best for him?

  So far no one seemed to approve of me, apart from Natalio’s brothers and his mother—maybe. Who said I could see their hearts? All other family members either gave tight smiles or downright sneers. I felt like Anne Boleyn seated at a table with the Tudors.

  “Stop,” Natalio whispered against my ear. “He repeats this at every damn dinner. Stop reading into it. You are what’s best for me.”

  How did he know what I was mulling over? Were we so connected? Gosh, I loved him.

  The rotund middle-aged man entered the room and banged a smaller gong this time. When all the chattering had ceased, he spoke. “We now serve you the first course of the evening.” As he said this, maidservants marched in with trays. “Chilled broccoli soup with seared scallops, salt cod mousse and broccoli sprouts.” And then he departed.

  Leaning into Natalio I whispered, “Seriously, is all this really necessary?”

  Biting his lip to suppress his smile, he brought his index finger to his lips in a ‘shh’ gesture.

  I rolled my eyes and eyed my soup dubiously. It was green.

  “It’s delectable,” Natalio said. “And healthy. As matter of fact, I’ll be banning you from pizza. Now eat up. You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast—which was pizza.”

  Ignoring him, I took a taste. It was indeed toothsome. As I lifted another spoonful to my mouth, the chilling voice of Marcello Nelson sounded. “Miss Francé.”

  Inwardly preparing myself for whatever was to come, I looked to him.

  “My son has informed me that you two are to be wed.”

  My lips curved in an insincere smile. “Yes, Mr—”

  “Tell me about yourself,” he demanded. As if he didn’t already know everything about me. If he thought I was going to put up with his bullshit he had another thing coming. I was not one of his offspring.

  Natalio’s hand found mine and squeezed, but I barely felt it, because I was preparing for a match with the oh-so-feared Marcello Nelson.

  “Sadie Elizabene Francé. Twenty-four years of age—Oh, what the heck. I’m wasting my time, aren’t I? It is without doubt that you have already conducted a background check on me, Mr. Nelson. There is no need to audit my veracity. I am candor personified.”

  Marcello sucked a breath at my audacity and his eyes grew colder, his face harder, and his framed squared in his high-back chair. Natalio squeezed my hand and narrowed his eyes in warning, while everyone else at the table stared at me as if I was an asylum escapee.

  Marcello spoke in a steady, ice-blowing tone. “Indeed, Miss Francé. You are correct. I have executed such a task. Your father is deceased. What of your mother?”

  “My mother, at the moment, is battling with her own mortality,” I replied, composed. “You see, Mr. Nelson, HIV was the accolade my mother received for being wedded to an abusive, dominant husband of incalculable infidelities.”

  There was a disrupting clatter ensued by a cough as Melinda’s soup spoon ‘accidentally’ fell; her face was flushed a bright shade of crimson. And I watched as Marcello’s hand subtly disappeared under the table, and a second later Melinda’s eyes flew to his face on a gasp. He was no doubt sinking his fingernails into her thigh as a warning for her to contain herself. It was a famous move of my father’s. But he didn’t even look at her, he was looking at me. Whatever pain he was inflicting on her beneath the table was enough to set her in place. Melinda’s hand shook as she recovered her spoon and resumed eating.

  Abuser. Yes, this man was everything like my father. How could he be preaching goodness and all that’s holy when he was everything opposite?

  With his eyes never leaving mine, he spoke again. “I have come to the conclusion that you are not worthy of my progeny, Miss Francé.”

  Progeny! How old was this man? I pulled my hand away from Natalio’s grasp that’d grown tighter around my wrist with every word I spoke. There was no way in hell that I was going leave this house with downcast eyes. If I was to leave, then I’d be leaving with a bang. All my life I’ve been antagonized. And at this point in my life I think I was immune to antagonism. His harsh tone or his cold stare didn’t scare me. My father was just the same, so I’ve had training enough to stand up to this double-ass.

  With mock disappointment, I slumped my shoulders and peered up at Natalio who was glaring at me. “Oh no. You mean to tell me that I’ve gone through all that trouble to sink my claws into an eligible bachelor so my future would be secured and now…and now it will be thwarted? I won’t get to marry you without signing a prenuptial agreement, then divorce you twelve months later taking a chunk of all you own? Shucks! Well, that’s a bummer.”

  Natalio eyes threatened to roll from their sockets, while everyone else gaped at me. I averted my gaze to Marcello whose demeanor hadn’t changed a bit. He was indeed a hard nugget to crack. I had work on my hands. “I’m ascertained your progenies’ posteriors will be ecstatic that you’ll be too wizened or crippled to dictate to them. I can already taste their elation, Mr. Nelson,” I said without batting an eyelash.

  Marcello leaned forward, bracing an arm on the table, his steely gray eyes pinioned mine. “Miss Francé, a prudent person foresees danger and takes precautions. The simpleton goes blindly on and suffers the consequences.”

  So now he was threatening me through bible verses? How low! Game on Marcello Nelson, because I read the bible, too.

  I held my composure, and his gaze. “Like a fluttering sparrow or a darting swallow, an undeserved curse will not land on its intended victim.”

  Almost imperceptibly, his head jerked back as if he couldn’t believe I could quote the bible also. But only I noticed, because all widened eyes were transfixed on me. Natalio was fuming but I didn’t give a hoot.

  Marcello tightened his lips. “My child, eat honey, for it is good, and the honeycomb is sweet to taste.”

  I inwardly rolled my eyes and retorted, “And yet, in the subsequent chapter it warns, ‘It’s not good to eat too much honey, and it’s not good
to seek honors for yourself’.”

  Marcello blinked.

  And at that instant, Natalio pushed back his chair with a loud screech and grabbed my hand pulling me from my chair. “Enough, Sadie! We’re leaving.”

  “No,” ringed Marcello’s voice. “Dinner has already begun. You shall stay.” He leaned back in his chair, tracing his index finger across his lower lip as his gaze remained locked with mine. “You’ve got a pair of balls on you, Miss Francé.”

  I daggered his steely grays with my cognac browns. “Perceptive you are, Mr. Nelson. Heavy balls. And at the moment, they are itching.”

  A stifled laugh came from across the table and I needn’t look to know it was Lovello.

  Marcello narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you deliberately trying to exacerbate my psyche, Miss Francé?”

  “I wouldn’t dare at an attempt of rattling your indecipherable oddity of a psyche, your grace,” I said, adding a reverential nod for emphasis.

  The corners of his lips seemed to twitch, but it was hard to tell, for one’s eyes tend to play tricks when they stare for too long. Marcello failed at another utterance. He just stared deathly at me, not blinking, neither did I.

  Who the hell did he think he was? I’d been abused from ear to ear by a father who was just as dominant. Came face-to-face with death on numerous occasions. Had my life threatened innumerable times. Had guns pressed to my scull and all things similar. I wouldn’t back down from his stare, he didn’t scare me one bit and so I held his gaze, neither of us backing down. My eyes threatened to water and I hoped he’d give in sometime soon.

  Then he blinked. But he didn’t break the gaze and I assume he blinked thinking it would galvanize me into blinking, too, but I didn’t. He blinked again. I didn’t, even though my eyes started to water. With a third blink he targeted his gaze to the eldest son. “Trevillo, tell me about this new project of yours.”

  For a moment, the entire room was quiescent, as if no one could believe what they’d just witnessed. Then, like the snap of a hypnotist’s fingers, everyone started chattering at once. I dared not glance at Natalio, because his fury was tangible. Of him I was afraid.

  A lone grape rolled across the table towards me, prompting me to look up and I caught Lovello’s eyes. He grinned at me and mouthed, “I love you. Marry me.”

  Natalio tugged my fingers and hissed, “Eat up,” all the while glowering at Lovello who didn’t seem the least affected by his brother’s anger.

  Dinner continued in tedium with the occasional gonging to introduce ensuing courses. Marcello neither looked nor spoke in my direction again, in pretense I wasn’t at the table, I guess.

  Soon, the dishes of the last course were cleared and the rotund middle aged man appeared announcing that it was time for entertainment.

  Entertainment?! When will this be over?

  We entered another sumptuous and extravagant room where there was a cellist, a violinist, a jazz band and a group of ballets dancers. And I realized that I’d be stuck here until all these performances were finished. Natalio was right, this was punishment. I couldn’t help the thought that the first gate we drove through was a time machine to an earlier century. The cellist began his performance and Natalio took two glasses of champaign and handed one to me, staring down at me phlegmatically. What’s he thinking? Was he still mad?

  Just as I was about to ask him, Lovello joined us with mock seriousness. “Natalio brother, Sadie was quite audacious. And her behavior to father is unacceptable. Please, do not pardon her. Break up with her so I can take her for myself and marry her at midnight. Please.”

  Natalio glared at his younger brother. “How would you like to die, Love? Asphyxiation of decapitation? Choose.”

  Lovello held his hands up in defense with a grin. “I’m just saying, brother. I wished Nicole had balls like her and hadn’t allowed Father to scare her away. I adore your brazenness, Sadie. Whenever this asshole screws up—because we both know he will—I’ll have a ring waiting for you.” He winked a slate-gray eye at me, disregarding Natalio’s glare.

  We were a minute later joined by Trevillo and a tall, broad-shouldered, dark-blond guy, Paul, who I was earlier informed was Princessa’s husband. His lips were perpetually pursed and his cleft chin tilted upwards. Maybe he thought that gave him an intimidating look? It didn’t. It rather made him look constipated.

  “Father hasn’t chased you away, Sadie,” said Trevillo. “Which means he’s either intrigued by you and plans on toying with you further to see if you’ll crack under pressure, or he’s in love with you—which he’ll never admit to.”

  Not knowing how to reply, I just smiled at him.

  “How’s that frog experiment of yours coming along?” Lovello asked Paul.

  “Well, it’s in its embryonic—”

  “So are you enjoying the evening, Sadie?” Trevillo continued, as if Paul didn’t exist.

  Natalio and Lovello choked on stifled laughs and I immediately noted that they weren’t fond of Paul.

  Paul flattened his lips and excused himself, then all three brothers broke into laughter. There were so…childish.

  “Look at him,” Lovello chuckled. “Not even God can convince me that that dude isn’t queer.”

  “Walks like he’s got a dick up his ass,” Trevillo commented. “Or wearing a diaper loaded with shit.”

  “And that’s the man Father approved of for Princess,” Natalio added.

  “Serves the witch right,” said Lovello.

  A short, corpulent woman, with trimmed black hair and sunken eyes, walked up to us with a curvaceous brunette next to her. She gave me a curt nod then turned to the brothers. “My, my, I can bet you three are up to no good.”

  Trevillo answered. “Oh, you know that’s a rather a loose comment, Aunt Lina. You know how productive we are. Never idlers. In fact, we were just discussing the process of coitus, when the priapus enters the…um, sheath. We were also commenting on the male species’ elation of fellation during copulation.”

  My mouth fell open and gaped at Trevillo. This was his aunt! I sooner realized that this was more jesting when the woman smiled adoringly at the trio and said, “Oh, Marcello raised you boys so well. I could never understand your big words and you boys always talk like that just to show off.”

  Or to humor you…

  She turned to the brunette. “See, I told you they were intelligent braniacs. They make us proud.”

  In order not to laugh, I sucked in my cheeks.

  The curvaceous brunette—who clearly didn’t understand the smuttiness of Trevillo’s words either—fluttered her eyes at Lovello as he took her hand and kissed it.

  “Aunt Lina, how related are Suzie and I again?” asked Lovello, his eyes never leaving the brunette’s copious bosom.

  “She’s a fourth cousin of yours. The relation is obscure.” The woman looked between the two and snatched the brunette’s hand from Lovello. “But you are related. So no, you can’t sleep with her. This is not the fourteenth century.” With that, she bounced off with Suzie.

  Natalio laughed hard, tossing his head back. “Aunt Lina knows damn well she’s lying through her teeth.”

  “I know right,” dipped Trevillo. “That girl is not related to us in any way, shape or form.”

  “Family or not, I’m squeezing that curvy derriere tonight,” averred Lovello as he winked at Suzie who gave him a coquettish glance over her shoulder.

  “Typical you, Love,” muttered Trevillo. “Just don’t get her pregnant in case she really is family, for your child might be born with two noses and one eye.

  They all laughed.

  “Damn, did you see Aunt Lina’s triple stomach…?”

  All the while I stood there staring in disbelief at the three—smoking hot—miscreants as they commented and jeered mercilessly at their family members like a bunch of college students. They made me laugh until my eyes watered and I allowed myself the indulgence, for their crudeness was much more entertaining than the lusterless ente
rtainment of violinists and cellists provided.

  I’ve survived in the house of the Nelsons.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  We drove home from the dinner in complete silence. I’d slump with exaggerated exhaustion once we’d exited the second gate of the Nelson residence. Natalio had emitted an ephemeral chuckle and then heavy, uncomfortable silence ensued. He hadn’t mentioned anything about the tense bicker between his father and me, and I couldn’t gauge just how angry he was with me. He’d laughed and talked animatedly with his brothers, but never with me.

  What was the depth of trouble I was in? What was he thinking? Would he leave me because I showed no respect to his father, his idol? If so, then I was now beginning to suffer deep remorse. I didn’t want to lose him. My apprehension grew onerous as we neared his home.

  Natalio pulled into his garage, parked, pulled up the handbrake, and then turned to look at me. His expression was unrevealing and I tried to brace myself for his imminent explosion. Peculiar, that hours ago I’d stared down the one man he, Natalio, was afraid of, yet I was so intimidated by him. What was it about him that made me so unnerved?

  Natalio didn’t speak, he just gazed at me with stolidity. I tried to hold his gaze, I really tried, but my eyes fell to my fingers that restlessly ruffled the edges of my purse.

  “Look at me, Sadie,” he commanded. “You just stared down one of the most domineering blood I’ve ever known. A man who has intimidated some the most powerful business men to have his way. Why can’t you look at me?”

  I didn’t look up at him when I asked, “Are you still mad at me?”

  No sound came from him, and the silence extended. When I risked a peek up at him, the apathy remained in the depth of his blues. And even then, he was still irresistible. My tongue flicked out and wet my lips, for they were dry—and because my libido was awakened by the sensuality he oozed. My body was instantaneously and inexplicably warm. Because of the confinement of the jeep, maybe—even though the air conditioner was on full blast?