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"It's nice to see you again, Francisco."
"It's good to see you, too," the older man said gruffly, "but damn you for making a fool out of my security system."
"I prefer the term'quality control tester.'"
"Quality control, my foot. Are you at least going to tell me how you snuck in?"
"I would if there was a point, but we both know there's not."
Francisco pretended to grumble over this even though he knew Ezio was speaking the truth.
Slippery like a damn eel, that was how Ezio had always been. Francisco could still vividly remember how the boy, forced to attend summer camp during his twelfth year, had managed to give his bodyguards the slip every damn day.
"Does Giancarlo know you're here?"
The smirk on the younger man's lips was answer enough, and Francisco's mood brightened considerably. No one was supposed to enter or leave Boston without Giancarlo's knowledge or express permission. Or at least no one except for Giancarlo's youngest brother, and this made Francisco feel much better about the security lapse in his own abode.
Francisco's stomach grumbled at that moment, and this had him asking if Ezio wanted to join him for breakfast.
"Only if it isn't too much trouble."
"Give me a few minutes to whip something up," the older man said gruffly.
Francisco didn't bother asking what Ezio wanted to eat as he headed to the kitchen. He had a hand in raising Ezio and his brothers, and since manners were everything to a Marchetti, Francisco knew Ezio would not be the kind to demand anything. Whatever he would prepare, the boy would be sure to appreciate.
The garlicky, buttery smell of toasted bread slowly filled the kitchen as Francisco chopped fresh onion leeks, and his thoughts drifted back to Ezio's eldest brother as he started mixing everything together to make an omelet.
Giancarlo was expecting him at the office after breakfast, and the older man could already imagine how the Marchetti firstborn would react to his youngest brother's return.
Giancarlo took his role as the protector of hisfamigliaextremely seriously, and rightly so. Danger would always lurk in the corner when one wasfamiglia,and the wealth the Marchettis had amassed, and the power they presently wielded over the city, had not come without a price.
Rivalries and betrayals betweenfamigliehad led to the murders of the Marchetti patriarch and his only son. A plain housewife had been forced to transform herself intoLa Strega.And her young grandchildren, thrust abruptly into a world of darkness, had been forced to trade their innocence for a violent rebirth.
Grown men would've been completely broken by the training Francisco had subjected them to under their own grandmother's orders. But the four boys had instead thrived, and as time passed, subtle differences that distinguished them from each other had also become gradually evident.
Giancarlo, the eldest, was like Arthur wieldingExcaliburin battle; honor was his greatest strength, but it was also one he would never relinquish even to the point of death.
Cesare, on the other hand, was the brute enforcer of his family, and his weapon of choice could be anything from a heavy-duty machine gun to a barbed whip. Whatever it took to prolong his enemy's torture before completely destroying him.
Or at least that was how it used to be,Francisco mused,before La Strega found his missing bride.
Falling in love with Penelope had not just changed Cesare. Nearly losing his wife had turned him into a new man, and it was withLa Strega'sblessings that Cesare had turned his back on his old and violent ways.
And then there was Massimo, whose extraordinary charm also hid his extraordinary streak of cruelty towards those he deemed unforgivable.
This particular grandson ofLa Stregawas more like a magician with an armory of potions and sleight-of-hand tricks, and Francisco couldn't help but wince when he remembered how Massimo had been in his younger and more violent days.
He had been at his most wicked and most charming in those years when the Marchettis' enemies were still aplenty. And that was why all Massimo had needed that time was a moment.
Just one moment to slide a knife between another person's ribs. Slip poison in his drink. Or push him over a cliff.
All it had taken was one moment, just one moment to make his opponent draw their last breath.
But that was then.
Now, just like Cesare, Massimo had also changed after being reunited with his first love Ysabel. Their wedding would take place in a week, and while that would certainly explain why Ezio was back in Boston...
Francisco's gaze turned pensive as his gaze flicked back to his unexpected guest. Ezio might already be in his late twenties, anda billionaire in his own right, but Ezio and his brothers would always be boys in Francisco's eyes.
