Legacy [bxb]

chapter 2

"I intend to fatten you up now that you're home. You must have spent years starving in Europe with nothing to eat but croissants and crumpets." Roman's Aunt Isabella declared pouring a spoonful of her famous risotto unto his plate. His stomach was already slightly filled with the beef roast and mushroom ravioli he had eaten previously but she was persistent.

Contrary to what Mickey had said, she did let him off the night of his arrival after multiple hugs and prayers spilled in occasional Italian. However, she made sure that he had no choice but to attend the welcoming lunch she had prepared for him. Roman didn't see the need in all of it. All he needed now was quiet time to get re-acquainted with everything once again.

It was enough that he had arrived safe and sound back to the city. All the people he thought mattered enough had seen him and were now reunited.

But Isabella Figorerri didn't believe in small gestures. To her, everything and anything was worth celebrating.

He laughed "That's not true. I ate well enough."

She scoffed "Then why is it that you still look like a thin stick? You young men of today eat little then run off the gym to burn it all out and gain muscles all to impress some giggly ragazze."

Girls.

Roman shook his head. That was not a problem.

It seemed surreal to him as he watched all these people laugh around him. The jovial and rambunctious air made him feel as though nothing had changed all the years he was gone. But everything had changed.

Instead of his parents sitting at the head of the table where they belonged as the heads of the family with he on the side which often used to remind him of a monarch and his queen, his uncle now sat at the head with Roman and Jeremy, Mickey's father at the side.

The regent, the heir and the duke, he though taking a sip of the bubbly Chiavaneska his uncle had brought out for this special occasion. There was usually only one method to drink it so that it didn't end up tasting like sparkling shit. Carry it in both hands to avoid shaking or stirring. Never freeze it; place in the fridge for ten minutes so that it gets only slightly chilled. Pour it in a glass take back only a small sip to savour it each time.

Perfection.

He and his uncle were the only ones entitled to drink it. Everyone else had bottles of red wine which were stored much closer to the front of the wine cellar. The good ones remained at the back far away to avoid easy access for just anyone.

It was a tradition started by his great-grandfather, Marcus Figorerri. His parents often told him that his favourite saying was "The family is equal, but the heads must remain the heads." In his mind, it was to separate the head or heads of the family from the other members while they ate so that everyone remembered their place. It was a confusing concept to Roman, but he obeyed it anyway without question.

"Don't over feed him Bella. There is still much to be done today." Uncle Roberto chastened lightly. His wife huffed but still gave him a small smile in return. Even at their age affections had not dimmed which was such a rare thing to find with couples their age.

"We certainly don't need Roman here running off to the bathroom mid-anything now." Mickey said with a smirk.

"And we also wouldn't like you letting that delicious risotto get cold Angelo." His cousin Catherine teased Mickey with the name he hated the most. Catherine was the daughter of Roberto and Isabella. A mostly headstrong girl, she and Roman got along quite well. When they were much younger, they were often mistaken as twins because of their similar blonde hair and striking blue eyes. However, Catherine dyed and cut her hair at sixteen for a change of identity long after he had left. Roman almost didn't recognize her at first when he saw her at the door waiting to greet him. She had filled into her gangly childhood body and become a solid but sexy young woman with curves in all the right places. Roman noticed that she now had habit of rubbing her ring finger with her thumb most times, as if in wistful thought.