Cosa Nostra
Fandom: The Borgias
Summary: Modern setting. The power of the nation lies in strategy, money, corruption and violence. It's time for Cesare Borgia to realize his ambition and get what he really wants.
Note: "Cosa Nostra" is a phrase referring to the American mafia, translated to "Our Thing"... I think. So, this phrase refers to not only the mafia, but also Cesare/Lucrezia. At least, that's my justification and I'm sticking to it.
Prologue
Pulling the trigger was like breathing to him. It didn't take any extra effort, it didn't strain his body in any way. There was even an inexplicable thrill that shot up his spine as he pulled the trigger, forcing a bullet into Giovanni Sforza's chest, point blank range.
The light in his recent victim's eyes drained and his corpse unceremoniously slumped onto the cold hardwood floor. Without hesitation, he made his way to the front door, where his right-hand man was standing guard.
"Micheletto," he spoke softly as he walked past the red-headed man, "Let's go."
Micheletto matched step with him and quickly made their way down the fire escape, to the black Maserati parked in the dark alley. They started the car and drove quickly.
The stars were covered with scattered clouds by the time Cesare arrived back home. His parents' home, a tall two-story mansion of iron gates and cream plaster walls, was only lit with a few outside lights, illuminating the grounds just enough to witness any potential suspicious movement.
They parked the Maserati in the underground garage, next to a line of ten other cars of different makes and models. Both men parted ways after greeting one another 'goodnight': Micheletto to the west wing of the complex, and Cesare to the main house.
The mansion was dark; the employees of the house were asleep long ago, Cesare assumed. With the assistance of dim moonlight, he strode across the marble entrance foyer, up the marble staircase and entered his room, second door to the right.
He began his ritual of undress: black blazer off and slung over a high back chair, pistol out of its holdster and onto the bed, leather holster thrown on the high back chair. He collected a few pieces of cotton, a small bottle of cleaning solution and small cleaning cloths from his bedside drawer and placed it all beside his gun. He reached for a palm-size remote that he had left on his bedside table; one press of the power button and the room filled with Italian opera on low volume.
He slowly disassembled his gun in its parts and began to soak a few pieces of cotton with cleaning solution. Just as he began cleaning the barrel, he saw his bedroom door open right in front of him. A blur of white and wavy gold entered the room in a rush, and then slowly she shut the door, trying to keep her visit quiet from the rest of the mansion.
"Welcome home, Cesare," she smiled at him, holding her white robe tightly closed with a fist.
A smile formed on his lips. "You're still up, Lucrezia?"
She leaned back against the body of the door, simultaneously letting her robe drape open, revealing the matching short lace white nightgown underneath. "You left right after dinner without telling a soul where you were going."
"I did tell someone."
"Besides Micheletto," she arched an eyebrow.
He smirked at her and a glimmer formed in his dark eyes. He tried to return to his task, but as Lucrezia walked to join him on the bed, he couldn't help but notice how her nightgown barely left anything to his imagination. How her peach skin peeked out from the material, how the thin fabric clinged to her body. He had to close his eyes momentarily to focus.
She joined him on his bed in silence for a few breaths, watching him begin a task she was so used to him doing. As he finished cleaning out the barrel, she laid her chin gently on his right shoulder and she softly asked, "Who was it?"
"Who?"
"The poor person who got finished off at the other end of that gun."
"No one important," he answered her.
"Is that so? I heard Papa in his office earlier, talking to someone on the phone," Lucrezia whispered in his ear, tickling it with her warm breath. "He heard something happen at the Sforza apartment."
Cesare slowly turned his head to her. "You're asking, but you already know, it looks like."
She smiled at him, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "I just want to make sure that I heard things right." She paused for a moment and then continued. "You know, if Papa finds out, he's going to be mad. He was hoping Giovanni would make a good ally."
"Giovanni is a pig and doesn't deserve you," Cesare spat.
Lucrezia giggled slightly. "You can't shoot every guy Papa wants to match me up with."
"I can if they're assholes who don't deserve you."
"But you don't think anyone deserves me."
"Then I guess you'll be alone," he shrugged.
She looked at him thoughtfully, her body pressed against his frame, chin still on his shoulder. "Hmm... I don't think I'll be alone. Not really." She reached her hand up to his cheek; he closed his eyes at the sensation of her touch. She moved her hand back, fingers gently combing through his curly brown hair, before caressing his neck and settling right at his collar, where she undid the top button of his black shirt.
Cesare opened his eyes and placed the gun frame on his lap. He reached for her left knee with his right hand and touched the smooth skin before rotating to the base of her inner thigh, gently squeezing the soft flesh of her upper leg. He took a deep breath and they slowly closed their eyes, relishing in the company of one another for a few brief seconds.
Moments like these, Cesare thought, were so dangerous. Full of danger, indulgence, wanting...
"Thank you, though," she said to him. "He was rude, obnoxious, cold...and he was an asshole."
"Just doing my duty," he pulled his hand away, back to the cold unyielding black metal before him.
"Your brotherly duty," she mused. "Your loving duty..."
"Exactly," he turned to her again and noticed she was still staring at him. Her steely-blue eyes locked with his and he unconsciously held his breath. He could feel his insides warm as she continued her gaze on him, her fingertips gently playing with his shirt collar.
She flashed one more smile at him before she said, "Bedtime for me. Don't stay up too late."
He didn't say anything, only nodded as she placed herself up with one knee on the bed and a hand to his thigh to prop herself up. Lucrezia leaned towards him, and they simultaneously kissed one another on the cheek. She angled her head sharply to the right; her lips gently brushing the corner of his. Lucrezia kept her eyes forward to the door and she ever so gently opened it and tiptoed out of the room.
As soon as the door closed shut, Cesare took a deep inhale. The air still had that sweet smell of his sister, a soft mix of vanilla and soap. He grabbed a cloth and refocused, buffing and polishing the metal gun feverishly.