Family Business

Summoning

DISCLAIMER:  This book will contain some dialogue in Italian which I have translated from English. So what's the problem, you ask? I don't speak Italian, which will quickly become obvious to those of you who do. I apologize in advance for all the errors. Don't blame me though, I'm at the mercy of Google translate. Please forgive me.

EJ's pov

"Well, I'm here, Father. So what was so important that I had to leave my life in England at the drop of a hat to move here to Italy, into the family mansion?"

"È bello vederti, figlio mio (It's good to see you, my son)." My father Stefano embraced me warmly, smiling as he greeted me with a kiss to each cheek.

"Likewise, Father." I pulled away, still quite uncomfortable receiving any display of affection from this man whom I still considered a stranger despite carrying the distinction of siring me. "Now what's the urgent family business I need to attend to that you couldn't speak of over the phone?"

"We can talk business later my boy. Come join me in the study for a drink."

Following Father into his study, we sat in front of the fireplace, each with a snifter of brandy draped lightly between our fingers. Sipping our drinks in silence, we allowed the liquor to warm us on the inside as the fire glowing in the hearth took care of the outside. It was an uncharacteristically cold damp day for this time of year and the chill in the air cut right to the bone.

After an hour or so consisting of smatterings of small talk interspersed with uncomfortable silences, Father finally got down to business.

"I know you're aware of your brother's situation and why he went into hiding but what you're not aware of is the fact he left a daughter behind."

"A daughter?" I questioned. I had no idea my half-brother was a father. "When did Tony have a child?"

"Francesca is ten going on thirty," my father scoffed, as he tried to suppress a wicked grin from gracing his face. "Anna kept her hidden from Anthony since birth. Had she not passed away unexpectedly a year ago, we never would have known she existed."

"If you've known for a year, why didn't anyone tell me?" I asked, trying to sound offended when in actuality, I knew very well why I wasn't informed. Tony and I have never been close. In fact, we didn't even know the other existed until I was well, Francesca's age I guess. When I found out I had a half-brother and half-sister I shared a father with, I was not only unimpressed but largely unaffected as well. I'm sure the feeling was mutual. Tony was already through with college and heavily immersed in the family business and my half-sister Lexie was just beginning medical school in the States.

My mother "died" shortly after I was born according to my father, whom I've seen maybe a total of five times, six counting today, in the twenty-three years since my birth. The more I investigate the woman who gave birth to me, the more suspicious I become about the events surrounding her untimely demise. I'm almost positive she was eliminated but what remains a mystery is why. From what I've learned about her, she hardly seemed like much of a threat.

Now Tony's ex Anna on the other hand, well, let's just say I'm surprised she didn't "pass away unexpectedly" several years ago. She was most definitely a piece of work, much like her daughter, I would soon come to find out. Divorcing my brother was perhaps the smartest thing she'd ever done. Knowing a child was involved, I can now better understand her fervent desire to break ties with this family. No child should be subjected to this lifestyle. I'm sure my own mother would have done the same, given the chance.

"È stata una decisione di tuo fratello, non mia, e l'ho rispettata (That was your brother's decision, not mine, and I respected it)," my father said matter-of-factly, breaking me out of my retrospective state by answering my previous query as to why I wasn't informed in a more timely manner that I have a niece. Not like I care though. These people are all basically strangers to me. I've been on my own since the age of eighteen. While Father's always supported me financially and still does, he's never been a presence in my life, physically or emotionally.

I was raised in England by nannies and butlers until the age of seven, when I was promptly shipped off to boarding school. The first of many boarding schools actually. After being expelled from the fifth one at the age of eleven, I had the distinct pleasure of meeting my father for the first time. There was only one school left willing to take me so my father flew me home, well, here to his home at the mansion, to impress upon me the importance of completing my primary education at my last resort school without incidence or interruption.

"I see you still have Great-grandfather's strap." I shuddered, recalling the extremely painful memory of my first encounter with my father as I walked over to where it hung, deceptively innocent on the wall. Without realizing it, I reached my right hand back to protectively cover my bottom. Thankfully, that was my first and only up close and personal meeting with that wretched piece of leather. I foolishly thought being paddled and caned at boarding school numerous times would prepare me to withstand any corporal punishment my father could possibly throw my way. Boy was I ever wrong.

Rumor has it Tony received the strap four times. Three times as a teen and even once as an adult. How he didn't learn his lesson after his first encounter is beyond me. Lexie was supposedly privy to the strap once when she was fifteen and stole one of father's cars. I would've loved to have been a fly on the wall during her punishment to witness that stuck up little witch getting her ass striped.

Shaking the memory of my spanking from my mind, I polished off my last swig of brandy as I brushed my fingertips over the rough iron nail securing the strap to the wall of my father's dark, intimidating study. Despite having been here twice since that incident twelve years ago, that experience will forever color my perception of this room and my father, for that matter. I cannot, despite how hard I try, get that image out of my mind of my father clutching that horrid strap while motioning me, a scared little boy, to bend over his desk.

It was literally the first time I met the man and he went from introductions to punishment in the blink of an eye. Zero to sixty in 2.8 seconds, just like my third Lamborghini. I guess that meeting served its purpose though. I finished boarding school without incidence and learned to fear and respect this man with a previously unknown tenacity. To be honest, I'm still terrified of him. No one is exempt from his heavy hand, least of all his own flesh and blood.

"Ovviamente ho ancora il cinturino (Of course I still have the strap), Elliot James. When I'm gone it'll be passed down to Anthony and maybe someday to you to use on your own hellion offspring." My father sounded offended I would even question such a thing.

"You know I prefer EJ, Father," I stated dryly, referring to my father using my given name. Obviously, my mother named me as Elliot James isn't exactly a traditional Italian boy's name.

"Do you really want to discuss that ridiculous excuse for a name your late mother saddled you with for life? I'll regret making her the promise I'd never change it until the day I die. Don't even get me started on the preposterous notion of you wanting to be referred to as mere initials now, Son."

He can be so dramatic at times. Even though Father and I don't see eye to eye most of the time, he's not all bad. He made sure I never wanted for anything, except the presence of a father in my life, by providing not only all the essentials but several luxuries as well.

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate all the financial support my father's provided over the years. The lifestyle to which I've become accustomed is far from cheap. I believe the tabloids like to refer to me as the young wealthy undeserving egotistical English playboy of the Dimerra clan. After attending Eton, I went on to law school at Cambridge, which Father footed the bill for. In a couple more years, I'll officially be qualified as a solicitor and granted full admission to practice law in England.

Father wanted me to become an attorney to assist with the family business. In reality, the area of law I'll be involved in will be private practice, very private practice in that the only clients I'll be representing will be family members and close personal business associates. Mostly, I'll be spending my time giving illegal activities the illusion of being not only legal, but morally upstanding as well.

"I'd rather we discuss the purpose behind me being summoned back home, Father, instead of my moniker. If that's alright?" I sat back down after refilling our drinks, in hopes of getting this meeting back on track. I'm assuming in my brother's absence, my father wants me to take a more active role in the family business.

"Alright, Son." My father hesitated as if searching for the right words. "It was your brother's wish before he went into hiding that you take over as Francesca's primary guardian."

"NO BLOODY WAY IN HELL THAT'S EVER GOING TO HAPPEN!" I shouted, in response to his ridiculous proclamation.