Love, Leclerc (Complete)

8. Ordered to Sicily

(Warning: chapter a bit scary)

Many days had passed since the incident, and you more or less hadn't talked to anyone. You remained friendly with Charles through text, but you both agreed a short break was much needed. You came back to live in your appartement in Nice and took to yourself as the gruesome days had gone on until any repercussions surfaced.

They finally did though, exactly one week after everything happened.

And it changed your life forever.

You were walking the compact streets of Nice alone for some morning exercise. The sun was barely up, leaving the secluded spaces between the large buildings under a shower of shade.

You had begun to lightly jog, excited to reach your destination of a small breakfast cafe on the water's edge; when you heard the confident footsteps of a man approach you. The vibe immediately felt off. You looked up to see him standing directly in front of you, blocking your path forwards down the cobblestone street.

He was a tough-looking burly man built like a hulk; with mean beady eyes and hands the size of an ape's. You had immediately recognized him as one of your father's dangerous henchmen.

You looked up to his face atop his massive figure, dreading what this encounter would mean.

"Shall we get to somewhere more private, Miss Ferrero?" He said in a voice of a thousand cigars.

He gestured to a small pub, only a few feet away from where you two were standing. In a few short strides he had reached the heavy wooden door and thrusted it open.

You silently complied, ducking under his arm and through the narrow doorframe.
You werent one bit scared of him, even with the fact that he had enough bullets in his pocket to massacre an army.

You were The Boss' daughter. Therefore anyone within the system treated you like a glass sculpture which could shatter at any moment. You liked the dominion.

The whole place was deserted and dark; obviously closed with no owner in sight. Except for one table in the back corner with another recognizable one of your father's men. And he looked even larger than the first one. You went to sit down at the table and immediately your gaze fell to your lap. Nobody in the mafia is ever alone.

"We have come to deliver a request," started henchman #2 in a very thick italian accent. "From Andresano. He wants you to come to Sicily immediately with escorts."

He looked to you, awaiting your response.
You gulped and retorted confidently, "is this all?".

A simple "Yes," piped in henchman #1 standing by the cash register; his pockets stuffed with euros. You looked at him and snickered. Your father certainly did not become the richest man in Italy by sharing wealth with his minions.

Surface level conversations were carried out from there, and then you were told to go back to your apartement and pack for Sicily, telling no-one.

You knew the drill; your father would call you over every so often if he was angry at you or had a task you could perform; most times he was just angry.

The three of you boarded one of Andresano's jets in secrecy and embarked on a short flight down to Sicily, where you were sure you would meet your fate's end.

Right now Andresano inhabited a small condo in the outskirts of Sicily under intense classification. You had never been to this outskirt before, and upon arrival you were surprised this such rundown place was temporary residency for the richest man in the country.

He was always moving around. In fact, he had just gotten back from a six month long embarkment in Moscow without even thinking to inform you first. He didnt trust the phones.

At this time it was the dead of night, and the back streets were very dimly lit. The old buildings to each side of the narrow alleyway seemed to be unfriendly and closing in on you as you walked past them. Looming shadows ascended to monsters at every imperfection. Tugging on your hair and clothes, and making your eyes dart all around.

There was no sound except for the crisp Italian wind eerily whooshing through the alleyway, and a faroff sound of a hound's muffled bark.

You were chilled to your core.

You had reached the condo, with a henchman at each side. After a few minutes of knocking nobody answered; and you were frightened it was the wrong address.

Finally the metal door swung open, and were escorted in by another henchman who wasnt trying to hide the large gun strapped to his waist. Your stomach began to feel uneasy about being here in the unwelcoming alleyways of an outskirt alone at night with three lethal men. You tried to shake it off and continue into the condo, not knowing what lied ahead.

You found Andresano inside surrounded with his buddies, full glass in one hand and cigar in the other. He had aged quite a bit since you had last seen him; with streaks of gray sweeping through his hair and a let down face, and eyes that could tell a thousand stories.

His eyes followed you as you entered the small room and addressed you politely, clearing out a space for you to sit down. He then ordered everyone leave you two alone in the room; I couldnt describe you his voice if I tried.

Judging by the looks of the other men's faces this was a rare occurrence. They left, and to your surprize Andresano got right to the point he wanted to make. His toungue was eminently Italian,

"Laurent came to complain to me about you and what happened. Your boyfriend? Or is Charles, girl?"

Your eyes immediately went wide at the magnitude to what he had just said. How did he know? Your actions seemed to have answered the question alone for your father. He let out a chuckle and raised a bushy eyebrow.

"And mentioned my Ferrero name along with yours. Several times." You knew where this was going,

"And we have taken care of Laurent along with all traces of him. None of his silly threats to my company or empire will resurface."

Your lip quivered, "Laurent is....dead?"

Andresano replied in all seriousness. His black eyes staring directly into your soul, "We took care of him."

You gulped, accepting the fact.
"And Charles? Please tell me he is alright father, please." You begged.

"He is alright for now, but we will take care of him as well if he causes any trouble. You have to realize that your stupid relationships get in the way of everything I have worked hard for to build. And things that get in the way must be extingushed, darling." He then turned to re-light his cigar.

These were the confidential little details you would always leave out with conversations with your friends, and Charles. Nobody knew about these mafia relations; the secret life of Julia Ferrero.

Nobody except her; and me; and now you, dear reader.