Smoke must still have been coming out of my head when I got home because I wasn't any less fuming by then. Reading the letter over and over again, trying to find a clue, a something, anything to tell me that this was not, I repeat not, meant for me. I didn't find any. It did help to keep the anger up though. But after that I had dinner and a shower and mother took forever to show up so I was more reasonable when she showed up.
I was sitting in the living room, in front of the television, while eating ice-cream angrily. Well no one can eat ice-cream angrily, I mean, it's ice-cream, but the idea is there. But that's when mother walked into the living room. She glanced once at me once before she walked further. This was not exactly like I pictured this confrontation.
Wait where did I leave this letter again? I had it right before dinner, and during dinner, but obviously I left it when I took a shower. If I was having dinner before I took my shower, then I left it on…
The table. Mother saw it before I did. A ripped open envelope on her usually so organised and pristine table. We're barely allowed to breath near it, which really undermines the whole purpose of having such a table in the first place. Furniture is there to use, right? She picked it up.
"Maxime, what is this?" She said as she took out the paper inside.
I put down the empty bowl of ice-cream. "It is a letter." She glared at me. "That Vongola guy gave it to me." I saw slight surprise on her face, but there was a glimmer of hope, glee even.
Her high hopes were answered by the letter. "Dear, this is fantastic!" She dramatically let her hand flutter in front of her face, as if she was trying to keep in tears of happiness. "We have to get you new clothes, a dress of course. A first impression is everything. We need a beautician, for sure. This meeting is soon but your hair definitely has to get extensions. And…"
Here we go. It's even worse than for the wedding today. I know how important outer appearances are in this world. The more important a person is, the more important it is what people hear about and think of you. And she was obsessed since day one with making me look like this perfect feminine doll. But more importantly time to step on the brake here.
"Mom." Nothing grabs her attention than calling her that. She considers it 'disrespectful.' "I'm not going to anything. Did you actually read what this thing says?" I almost tore it from her hands and held it up in front of her. "You are trying to marry me off? And you tried to do it behind my back? That's low, even for you! How many of these did you send? How many?!"
Her lips became a bright red, thin line. "This is the only reply that came. You're not that beautiful Max, and that youth of yours isn't going to stay forever. The sooner you marry a good man; the sooner your future is secure."
"For god's sake, mom, I'm twenty! I'm fucking twenty years old! Just because you married when you were eighteen doesn't mean the whole world has to! And I know I'm not a model, I'm not feminine and I like it that way. And my future?! You pulled me out of college the moment dad wasn't around anymore to stop you! I was this close to a bright future, but you decided you wanted to turn me into an airheaded trophy wife!"
My mom was shaking with anger. I felt secure in my argument, but mother had a nasty way of turning arguments in her favour in the end. She pointed to the letter. The long, red painted fingernail shook in the air. "You are going to that meeting. This letter doesn't give you a choice and we both know that we are in no position to refuse the Vongola family of all families."
Dang, she was right. But even so. "The letter only talks about me going. It is addressed to me. Even if I have to go, you're not. You can't control my life forever." I pray to the heavens she can't.
The day of the meeting mentioned in the letter came and I sat outside on the steps, waiting for some car to show up. Being as fancy and rich as they are, they were coming to pick me up. Believe it or not, I was waiting outside in the cold with only my hood to keep most of the rain away voluntarily. Being inside increased the risk of getting stuffed into a dress exponentially.
If I was going to go to this meeting and meet whoever I was going as myself. Dressed in a hoody, a t-shirt and jeans. They wanted this meeting to get to know me? They better not get their hopes up. They're getting exactly what they are asking for.
It took a while of regretting not to bring an umbrella before I heard the sound of tires on the gravel path. A large black car, elegant rather than bulky. Somehow it reminded me of cars used by funeral homes to transport coffins. Ugh, an overactive imagination is so troublesome at a time like this. Trying to make the best of things and my brains thinks about funerals and bringers of death.
The car stopped right in front of me. The first person to get out of the car wasn't a surprise. It was the silver haired man from the wedding. He was wearing something other than the Italian suit the other day. Although he was still dressed in all blacks, most of his outfit appeared to be made out of leather. He scowled at me when he saw me sitting on the stairs.
"Voi! Woman! Get in!" He's a lot louder when he doesn't have to lay low. So much for niceties, uh? I rolled my eyes, but I had little other option than to swing my backpack over my shoulder and get in. When I got in I could see the driver. Some large guy with a rather ridiculous appearance, his facial hair in particular.
"So this is the girl?" He said after he looked at me in the rear view mirror.
"She isn't what you'd expect, right?" Squalo didn't bother to introduce me to the driver, or vice versa, but from the causal way the talked to each other, about me no less, gave me the idea that they must work rather close together. Great. Now I'm in a car heading to some sketchy meeting I don't want to go to with not one, but two assassins. Doesn't seem like either of them will bother talking to me. I'll just stare out of the window.
Even though I tried to ignore them some shreds of their conversation still penetrated my thoughts. Most conversation concerned 'the Boss.' I don't know how to feel about this but I'm sure my not-quite-maybe-fiancé is either another assassin or this 'Boss' person. Am I glad I haven't agreed to anything yet… Let's hope mother didn't do it for me.
I wish I could complain about this place. Well I can, but it's kind of hard. It was a gorgeous mansion. Not as extravagant as mobsters usually seem to like. I personally prefer them even more minimalistic but this was better than most of those palaces. The two men simply headed for the door. I assumed I had to be here so I trailed behind them. I wasn't wrong. Nobody questioned me as I walked through the halls and when Squalo opened a large door at the end of one of them, he nodded towards the room to signal that I was supposed to follow him inside. The other man waited outside.
Squalo went in first. He must think himself more important than him. Can't challenge him on that, doesn't make him any less of an arrogant bastard though. Behind a large desk made of some expensive looking wood sat a man old from age. He smiled at me when he saw me but I wasn't a warm smile. It unsettled me for some reason, more than usual when people give you unmeant smiles. Something was off, but I don't know what...
"Max. Every bit as feminine as I heard." He said, obviously sarcastic. A pair of jeans, sneakers and a t-shirt at least two sizes to big don't make for a good female stereotypical way of dressing. He stood up behind his desk and offered his hand to me. "I am Timoteo, the Ninth boss of the Vongola family."
I shook it. "It's a pleasure to meet you." I have manners, I just don't use them very often.
"Sit down. Sit down." He said as he himself sat down. He motioned towards one of two big armchairs sitting in front of the desk. Everything in this office was well picked, it all matches and comes together. I did as he said. Squalo remained standing by the door, which he had closed after stepping into the room.
"I'll call my son Xanxus over in a minute so you two can get to know each other," the Ninth said. "You've never met before, am I right?"
"Xanxus? No." I tried to keep calm, but he sensed my tension.
"Don't worry. It's just a meeting, if either of you doesn't want any of this to happen you can say no. I just want you to meet first." He smiled again, but this still seemed unconvincing to me. Even so, it felt good to know that at least someone was going to let me make my own decision in this matter. And no matter how horrible this Xanxus person is, I should be able to survive one simple meeting.
For the next half an hour he asked me all sorts of questions. Mostly rather standard ones. Where did I go to college? What did I study? What were my interests? Pretty basic and all that. Still I couldn't feel but be nervous as hell. After all, this man sitting in front of me was one of the most important and powerful man in all of the mafia, if not the world.
I told him what he wanted to know. I explained how I never even finished my first year in college since my mother refused to continue funding my studies after my father passed away. It needed no saying that the relation between mother and me was bad. I didn't bother to hide it. When he asked about my interests I kept it short. I preferred to spent my time in solitude, I liked to hike and read and when he asked if there was something I had always wanted but could never have I could only think of a pet. For as long as I could remember I wanted to have a dog to play with or a cat to keep me company, but mother never allowed it. Either because she claimed to be allergic or because she was worried somebody else was allergic. I suspect the actual reason was because she didn't want a 'messy animal' around. I didn't tell that to the Ninth of course.
"I can't promise you that you are allowed to keep a pet," he smiled a half smile, "but that doesn't mean you can't get any benefits out of this arrangement yourself." It caught my attention, naturally. Thus far the only one who could benefit from this arrangement was my family, or rather their standing in relation to other mobsters. But me individually? That was something that actually concerned me.
"If," he emphasised this, "you agree to this proposal and marry Xanxus, we could give you almost anything you want. You'd receive a small allowance to spend at your own discretion, you'd have access to a variety of services the Vongola provide and naturally you'd be under our protection from any threat imaginable." None of this was something I didn't see coming. The allowance was a small surprise though.
It was what he said next that really grabbed my attention.
"And I would be willing to free up the funds to put you through college." I could feel how my eyes widened. He continued talking but in the meantime I could only think about this. I could continue to study. I'd have never imagined that I'd have to marry someone in order to achieve that kind of independence. Such a contradiction, but I could chase after the financial independence I wanted, get a job after I finish my studies. They probably won't accept me trying to repay the money, but I could always just donate it or get rid of it in some other way to even out the balance.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'd still have to marry someone who I haven't even met.
"Of course we expect some things in return. As the wife, or future wife, of my son" - Did he say son? Are they seriously considering me as the future wife of his son?! Don't they have any other candidates or something? - "you are expected to attend all major social gatherings and events by his side, displaying the appropriate behaviour expected of you. You can fight out all and any other details amongst yourselves, as long as you appear like a couple respectable to all and any outsiders I have no other demands of you."
Alright, why are these demands so… reasonable? There is something really wrong here with this whole deal and I don't know what. There has got to be a catch. And since there is only one part of this whole 'deal' that I don't know yet it has got to be the guy they want me to marry so badly.
"Can I say no to this?" I said.
For a moment the Ninth looked surprised. He blinked a few times, before answering. "Don't worry," he said, but I could find no gentleness in his face people usually have when they assure people. "If either of you say no, the deal is off." When I didn't immediately react he continued. "I don't expect an answer anytime soon. Although our patience has a limit naturally, we're no rush for you to say yes. Or no."
I have to say that although I'm still no fan of this whole thing happening over here, it is a good way to get out from under mother's influence. I would be doing exactly what my mother wants, marrying an important mobster, but I can't live my entire live rebelling against her. I would be basing all my actions, my entire personality as a negative of hers. And a negative definition is, scientifically speaking, not a definition at all.
Halfway through all this he motioned to Squalo. I didn't bother to look behind me to see what he did, but I could hear the door open en close. After a while I heard some shouting and even the faint sound of something shattering in the distance. Glass. A window maybe? The Ninth didn't pay it any attention so I didn't either. Weird things happen around here for sure.
Then I heard heavy footsteps. These weren't just any footsteps, it felt as if the trembles made by the footsteps shook the whole building. I must be imagining things, but that was really how it felt. I only realised they were heading towards us when the door slammed open. Without thinking I looked behind me, at the door.
That was when I saw … him.
People always said that when they meet the love of their life they just know; they get all warm and fussy on the inside or something. All I could feel was blood draining from my face – although I must admit my situation was quite different. He was intimidating. From the scars on his face, the nonchalantly tied tie, his piercing glare that looked right trough you, this man radiated authority.
I tried to meet his gaze as head-on as I could, but after a moment I averted my gaze. The thing about predators is that they know when someone's afraid, no matter how much one tries to hide it. I can try to sound though, but I was intimidated at least, if not scared or afraid. He almost ignored me as he sat down in the one remaining empty armchair in this office.
The Ninth's lips tugged up wards. "Max, meet Xanxus, my son, leader of the Varia and hopefully the next boss of the Vongola." Did I hear that right? This guy is not only the Boss of those assassins, but also the prospected future boss of the Vongola family? Jesus Christ, shit just got complicated.
I glanced over at Xanxus, who didn't even bother to move after hearing this. He stared rather bored at some point on the Ninths forehead. I couldn't get any kind of words past my lips. Not that this Xanxus seems like the kind of person who cares much about niceties.
The Ninth repeated a few small summaries of answers I had given. At least he knows his son well enough to know there is a snowball's chance in hell he's going to ask me about those things. It'd be rather pointless to tell him stuff he was going to find out on his own.
"Well, I'll leave you to alone for a little bit." The Ninth got up from his chair. "Xanxus, whisky I presume. Max, anything to drink?" Strong liquor? Now we're talking.
"Vodka. On the rocks please." Rather unconventional way to drink vodka; it's usually drunken neat. Xanxus gaze rested on me for a moment, I could see, but his expression remained unchanged and unreadable. If he knows his liquor, we at least have one thing in common.
The Ninth left, Squalo followed him out the door and the two of us were left in silence. I looked at Xanxus, who stared out of the window with a gaze focused on nothing in particular. He was thinking and after a while a small smirk appeared on his face. It was ever so slight, but whatever he was thinking about it was something that made him happy.
A man knocked. When he entered he excused himself. He set the tray he was carrying – two glasses with ice, one filled with vodka, the other with whisky – down on the small table in between our two chairs. Xanxus grabbed his glass off the tray the moment the man had turned around. He took rather big gulps, good thing they didn't bring in the bottle. I picked up my glass after the door had closed again. I sipped. Liquor is there to enjoy, not chug down in an attempt to get drunk. But maybe that's just the excuse of someone who doesn't drink that regularly.
During all of this I started to wonder: Why would this Ninth even consider marrying me to his son? And why on earth would he bother to say yes? I'll admit that with some dressing up I can look more feminine, but it's nowhere near trophy wife level. So marrying me for my appearance is not exactly a good reason.
The next best reason to marry someone off, or actually the best reason in mob world I guess, is to establish some kind of alliance. Well, when my father died or last alliance kind of … ended, so there is room enough to for a new alliance I suppose, but well … that only explains why my family would do this, but that doesn't explain a thing about why they would even consider this. They're more powerful by themselves than ten of my kind of family combined.
So ... why?