I think I didn't make this clear before (or at all). This takes place five years from the present, and yes, Aria is dead.
Short chapter because I am lazy and JENSEN ACKLES HAS A NICE BUTT.
Yolo.
I sigh and lick my lips. That was a lot of talking. I was about to continue when I noticed Aryana was leaning on me too heavily. I turned my head and shook her gently. She only slumped further onto me, as did Carina when I moved. Were they-? I smiled, and held them a little closer to stop them from falling completely. Just when did they fall asleep? And right at the good part too. I looked up to Vittorio, who was cleaning his glasses, a small smile on his face (seems he didn't forget the nose twitch either). "When did they fall asleep?"
He put his glasses back on. "Ten minutes ago." I frowned. That probably meant thirty or forty minutes ago. Vittorio had a horrible sense of time. How the hell he'd managed to secure the position of heir was beyond me. Even the Chinese dweeb was more qualified, and he barely had connection to the family.
"Help me out, would ya?" He sighed and got up, picking up Carina gently and carrying her over to her seat. I slung Aryana over my shoulder and set in her in her seat, in front of Carina. She yawned and rolled over, curling into a ball. Hmm, adorable. I stretched my arms above my head and yawned too. Damn, how long have we been sitting?
"Few hours."
I look at Vitti. "What?"
He sighs and runs hand through his hair - just one of many things he got from his mother. "You voice you're thoughts way too much."
"Hmm." I scratch my back and flop back into my seat. Vittorio yawned and took his place back in front of me. "Where did you get the board? The writing looks Arabic."
I settle my finger on the edge of the board and tap it. "Close - I got it Iran, hand made. And the language is Farsi."
"And the jewels?" I started putting the pieces back in their case. "Jade, amethyst and mother of pearl. The rest is just fancy wood carving." I close the case and set it down on the floor and fix my feet up on the table. "Say, shouldn't we be there yet? Its been more than a few hours."
"Well, we're nearly there. We had to take a few detours you know - this is international air space."
"That so..." I frowned. How long would we even be staying? The funeral was tomorrow. I looked to Vittorio and he seemed to know what I was thinking, strangely. "Our schedule allows us to stay a ten hours, ten and a half tops. After that we'll go straight to Italia for the funeral, which will happen shortly after we arrive."
I shake my head, switching to English under my breathe. "Fookin' mind readers..."
A/N: Irish accents man. Yeaaaaah.
"Huh?" I grinned. Seem Vitti didn't know English (or maybe he hadn't heard?). Well, good for me. I get up and stretch my legs. "You wait here. I'm just gonna walk around for a bit."
He nodded and opened his book. The cover had some overly muscular man holding a stick thin girl in front of a raging storm. Were all romance novels like that? It looked like it was in German too. Weirdo.
I go take a look into the back door, opening the door cautiously. Aratoni, was snoozing in his chair, but he jumped up with his right hand in a salute the moment I opened the door. I smiled. The cabin he was in was simple enough, standard air craft staff cabin, with too many drawers for food we were going to eat and some coat hangers in the back. "Sit down, I'm not here to interrogate you."
He nervously averted his eyes and sat. "Y-yes sir."
It made me a little sad to think that one my men was still shy around me. But then again, Aratoni was a newbie. Why else would he listen to Vittorio? Number one unofficial rule of Carcassa Combat forces: Do not listen to Vittorio. He wears Armani. (So do many other people, but listening to Vittorio is boring).
I walk over to the rack, flipping through the suits. I recognized some of Vittorio's, other's simply screamed Armani, and then I found my good old Westwood. Three piece, black and pinstriped. Only formal clothes that are even worthy of my sexy bod. I think I have a shirt tie in my bag, so it'll be fine. I pick out the suit and turn to Aratoni. "Hey, where's the bathroom?"
He fumbled along with his words. "I-its the door to your right, sir."
"Thanks."
I open the door and set the suit on the counter, kicking the door closed behind me. Needless to say, I looked fookin' marvelous in Westwood. I picked up my jacket and fished around in the pockets for my piercing. Does purple look better with gold or silver? I both types up to my face to compare. Yeah, definitely silver. I put the gold ones back in their cases. I winced as I put the labret piercing in. None of the others hurt nearly as much. I took a look in the mirror, deeming that yeah, I looked fookin' marvelous. Though I'd need a coat. It snowed a lot in Hungary. The plane started wobbling. Were we descending already? Vittorio was right, despite his crap time sense.
Okay so maybe I didn't have a coat. That resulted in me being a constant 'grouchy face', as dubbed by Carina when she woke up. We went in separate cars of course. Just like we had business, so did they, apparently. Though whatever the hell they were doing in Budapest was beyond me. Sightseeing? Well, there wasn't anything you couldn't find anywhere else, but hey, thats their problem. Right now, mine was glaring at Vittorio while he tried getting me out of the car. But unfortunately, he is and asshole and I am cold and this car has a heater that happens to be in very good condition.
But of course he used to 'What-if-I-die' excuse and that made me leave. God damn fricking heirs. Vasi would murder me a thousand times over if he found out that Vittorio died while I was in the same continent. He would literally do that. He's actually tried. He got to twelve before Stephano stepped in. I winced as I remembered that. Not exactly the most pleasant memory. Vittorio snorted. "You remember that."
I swear to god I am hooking this man up with Reborn. They would have the time of their lives trying to figure out what the other was thinking. Vittorio mentioned that he liked men in suits anyway. Now all I needed to do was convince Reborn he was gay and then he'd never have time to hit ever again. Sweet freedom, here I come.
Until then, I'd have to put up with walking a snow covered sidewalk. Vittorio was holding out his phone in front of him, probably following whatever directions he'd been given. Damn it, this was far too suspicious. Fucking Hungarians. The burning white of the snow was starting to hurt my eyes, so I dug into my jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. I was supposed to pretend to be Vittorio's bodyguard as the meeting. Well enough, since we hadn't brought enough men and there was no way in hell I was volunteering my newbie to do it. I'd rather have him survive for a while and figure out why exactly I know his name (and everyone else's).
He stopped suddenly in front of a building and I nearly bumped into him. Does the man keep forgetting I have a gun in my pocket? Next time he does anything mildly stupid I'm shooting his foot, whether Vasi will kill me or not. I growled a little and turned around, looking at the security guards. Vittorio gave them the goofiest smile he could manage. "I'm here as a representative for the Carcassa Famiglia."
The security nodded and opened the door for us. We stepped, and thank God, they knew what heaters were. The hallway was minimally furnished, just a long carpet (Persian?) and a few paintings occasionally. Hmm, this place was barely mediocre. And to think we have to act like complete fools.
We were put into a room at the end of the hallway. Overly extravagant bright red furniture all over the room, with eye-burning gold trimming. Ugh, Hungarians have no class what so ever. And seriously, this was so cliche. Vittorio sat down on the couch, opposite from a woman in a very skimpy cocktail dress. What from the way the guards constantly bowed, I'd assumed she was the Don. She gave us a sugary sweet smile. Fucking old hag, she's too gross to be wearing something like that. I grind me teeth together and stand behind Vittorio.
"Its a pleasure to meet you, Lady Antoinette." Wait, that wasn't a Hungarian name? "The pleasure is mine, Sir Carcassa."
Ah, an Austrian accent. I suppose I should be surprised, but I guess I'm not.
She leaned forward a bit (oh God, ew) and spoke first. "I'm not exactly happy, you see, with the current trade agreement. I feel like we're not getting enough on our side of the bargain."
I had to stop myself from shooting her brains out right there. Oh, the bitch was getting plenty on her side of the bargain. Autrichienne. The rest of the discussion went along in a much more polite version of: "Give me money." "No, fuck you." And then it turned into a literal version of that, not surprisingly. Vittorio leaned forward, smiling. "No, seriously, I ain't changing the fucking deal."
A few of the security guards pulled out their pistols. Oh my God, is she serious? I held back a snort as the old hag smiled. "Oh come on now, my family deserves much more money than you paid."
Before Vittorio could even reply, I spoke for him. "Lady, we've paid using the international value of heroin. If you think we're ripping you off, then get in fucking line."
A loud bang was heard, and I felt something digging into my back. Yawning, I took off my suit - agh, a perfectly outfit ruined - and shook until the bullet fell out. My skin started to itch really badly as the blood floated back and the flesh closed itself. I grinned. "Now, ma'am, would you care to reconsider?"
We were out of Hungary with four hours. Turns out the girls did go shopping. And they bought me a nice new suit from a company I don't even know. If I didn't have a hole in my Westwood I would have burned it on the spot. Didn't there mother teach them to never buy anything from brand's they don't recognize?
Skull, your Italian is showing.
Skull.
SKULL.
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