Chapter 106 My Fault {Rosie}

Chapter 106 My Fault {Rosie}
“For five years, Rosetta.”

Papa began, slicing through his medium-cooked steak with the precision of a man and the anger of a wounded father. He didn’t even spare me a glance when I came down with Berlo. 

One might think that all those years away from home, away from him, would make me impenetrable to his harsh treatment, but his coldness towards me still hurts like a bitch.

The dining table was round and large, but it felt so small and tight; every sound of utensils scraping the plates made me flinch. My dad could be described as a man explosive in nature. You could never tell when he would throw a knife at you or put a bullet through your head.

I attempted to take a sip of the orange juice in front of me, but my trembling hands were prone to making a mess of things, so I decided against it.
The two men ate comfortably, not minding my presence. No, I just wasn't significant.

My dad finished his meal, dropped his utensils and cleaned the sides of his mouth with a napkin.
He then unbuttons a few buttons of his suit and leans back into his chair while watching me with wrinkled eyes that still radiated enough heat to sear my mind with fear. I just had to look away. 

“You dare show your stupid face after what you did?” He spoke calmly, but it didn’t mask the hatred in his voice.

“I have you everything, Rosetta. Everything.” He emphasised. “I treated you like a priceless gem; you never had to work for anything in your life, and then I ask you to repay me—” he scoffed. 
“Repay me? I was doing you a favour. I set you up with a man that will forever protect and provide for you even when I’m gone, but you!” He suddenly rose from his seat, the force pushing the chair back with a screeching sound.

My chest seized. I squeezed a handful of my gown in my fist as I tried to calm myself. Berlo did not pause his eating; he nodded, smiling in satisfaction. He was enjoying this. A dinner and a melodramatic show.

Papa pointed a finger at me. His face was red and swollen with anger, but I could see the hurt in his blue eyes. 

“You took my Angela from me!”
I blinked quickly to dispel the tears. Crying would only make things worse. This was all my fault; Mama died because of me. His anger is justified.
“You bastard! I knew your birth would one day bring destruction. You should have never been born!” He began pacing around in circles, his hands tugging strands of his hair.

“I can’t believe I mourned you. You made us believe you died, Rosette. Did you even feel any remorse when you ran away, knowing your mother’s heart was failing?”

I shook my head slowly, fighting back tears. “I-I didn’t know.”

“You lying slut!” He turned and slammed his hands on the table, squeezing the tablecloth. “If you weren’t so busy looking for some American cocks to suck, you would have noticed your mother’s frequent visits to the hospital, but because you were busy planning your big escape, you didn't care about anyone else but yourself.”

I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They were hot against my skin as they ran down faster than a leaking faucet. 

“I’m so sorry.”

Papa ran his hands down his face and sighed before he returned to his seat. He opened a bottle of whisky and poured himself a cup. “Your sorry won’t lift my wife from the grave.”

It was then Berlo decided to intervene. He clapped once, and maids immediately came to clear up the plates.

“There is one thing she could do.” He said, resting his hand over the top of my chair. I remained quiet.

Papa downed his whisky in one go and told Berlo to continue in Italian. 

“Well, as you know. Donatello was able to grant us access to Boston for a few months so we could operate in exchange for Kieran.”

I tried not to react to the mention of his name, but my heart skipped a beat.
Papa scoffed. “It seems we have a common enemy.”

Berlo nodded. “We do, but Donatello is too much less of a man.”

“What do you mean?”

I could feel Berlo’s gaze on me before he spoke.

“He simply wants to expose Kieran’s dealings with the mafia and have him exiled, but that wouldn’t do, would it?”

My nails were now digging through the satin fabric of my gown and pierced my skin.

“A man like Kieran will not go down that way.” Papa mentioned, picking out a cigar from his chest pocket. “When it comes to the Ferraras, it is better you chop off the head. If my father had killed him when he was just a boy, the Zanna Rosta would cease to exist.”

“Exactly.” Berlo chuckled. “I said the same thing to Donatello, but he somehow believes he calls the shots of this operation.”

My father grunts. “Stupid American. He’s just a pawn. It’s better we discard him.”

“We can’t. At least not yet. Without him, we wouldn’t be able to operate freely in Boston.” Berlo lifted his hand off the back of my chair so he could lean forward and rest his hands on the table.

“The smart bastard did not disclose his government official’s name. At the moment he is our only green card to continue operation without interference, but if we don’t give him what he wants, he will have us sent back.”

“What does he want from Kieran?”

“The high-tech military weapon that could guarantee wins for America for every battle.”
Papa scoffed. “It’s impossible.”

“Impossible or not, Donatello wants it.” 

The back of my dress was drenched with sweat from how nervous this conversation was making me. Neither my father nor Berlo was staring at me. 

My eyes darted between the two of them; uncertainty mixed with fear made me want to throw up even though I had not touched a thing on my plate.

“Fortunately for us, Rosie here was Kieran’s slut and personal assistant. Getting the Veil would be as easy as taking life from a druggie.” Berlo snorted.

I swallowed a gulp.

“It’s time to redeem yourself, Rosie.”