Precious Legacy (The Notorious Legacy #1)

Chapter 15

FIFTEEN

F amily dinners have never been a tradition for the Bonannos. Once in a blue moon, you might catch us under the same roof, exchanging pleasantries for the sake of a nice meal, but that only lasts for about an hour before chaos ensues. We’re not exactly known for our calm approaches to conversation within the family, which is why I try to avoid visiting my parents as much as possible. As much as I love them, there are certain situations I prefer to steer clear of.

Unfortunately, I haven’t managed to get out of it today. My mom turned up at my front door this morning and practically dragged me back to Brooklyn. She might have a soft heart, but she won’t take shit from anyone, and in turn that means I don’t give her shit. Sometimes I wonder what made her that way, but then I take one look at my dad and my question is answered.

He doesn’t like to be challenged, and my mom is the only person he ever allows to do that. Even my brother and I don’t have that sort of relationship with him. Perhaps he made Mom that way? Or maybe she was always that way and thrived being in my dad’s company. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that those two are a match that should never have happened. Yet I can see how happy they make each other, so maybe sometimes, the wrong person can also somehow be the right one.

Flicking through the pages of my mom’s ‘House Living’ magazine, I tune out the conversation in the background. Something has been happening at the docks and my brother isn’t too happy about it. Usually, it takes a lot for my brother to get disturbed by anything, and being the leader of our family, he would be taking matters into his own hands. Whatever has caused him to discuss it with our father must mean it’s bad. Nobody seeks out advice unless they really need it, and I know that firsthand.

“Why do you look like someone killed your dog?” Varo heckles as he enters the kitchen. He perches on the stool beside me, picking at the steaming carrots in a bowl in front of him.

“I don’t have a dog, dumbass,” I mumble back boredly, I know he’s trying to bait me, which means he must be in a worse mood than I thought. This is going to be a fun dinner.

“Leave your sister alone, Varo.”

I glance up at my mom who’s stirring a pot on the stove and smirk at Varo. Sometimes it’s nice to have her on my side. Especially when my brother is acting immature and mimicking mom’s words.

“Varo,” Dad warns as he enters the room, and my brother bristles. “Listen to your mom.” He comes to drop a kiss on my head before capturing me in an awkward side-hug, but he’s focused on Varo.

I stick my tongue out at my brother because I’m not mature enough to let a win slide. It’s not that I can’t fight my own battles, but it’s kinda nice when the family disappointment gets preferential treatment over the golden boy.

Rolling his eyes, my brother snatches the magazine from me with a scowl. “Roman says he’ll be here soon.”

“What?” I frown. “Since when?”

Varo smirks, and I hate that he can immediately tell what’s running through my mind. We don’t have any psychic twin abilities or anything like that, but after being in each other’s space for two decades, we know each other too well.

Roman and I haven’t really spoken since the other night. He disappeared shortly after taking Haven and me back to my place without any explanation as to what was happening. Now, I’m slowly piecing things together, and that has me slightly worried.

“I invited him,” my mom supplies as she wipes her hands on a towel. She turns to greet our dad with a kiss before returning her gaze to us both. “He’s been back in the city for a few weeks now and we haven’t even had the chance to see him.”

Varo flips the pages of the magazine over, loud whips of paper breaking through the air. “I would have told you, but I know how much you enjoy surprises. Plus, we need to discuss business.”

“Ass,” I mutter, snatching the magazine back from him. It’s not like he was even reading it, but he still whines as I flip the page to a spread that looks similar to our own living room. One guess as to where mom got her decoration inspiration from.

Despite our family name and everything it stands for, we live in a humble little neighborhood, in a two-story townhouse that sits on a quaint street. It depicts the exact opposite of what this family is, but I know that’s what we need when you’re running the businesses our families do.

Apparently, our house has been in the family for a few generations, dating back to when my great-grandfather lived here. A lot has happened in this place, and I mean a lot. My great grandfather died here, along with my great aunt. Then my grandfather and uncle died here before my dad took over. It should be haunted with the amount of death it’s seen, but the only times we’ve been scared is when my brother and I used to prank each other. Most of the time, we would hide in each other’s closets and make sounds or move each other’s stuff. In our life, there are far scarier things than ghosts and ghouls, so jump-scaring each other is child’s play in comparison.

There’s so much history clinging to these walls that my dad has never been willing to let go of it. My mom once said that this is my dad’s safe place, despite the pain this house saw. Maybe that’s why they never left; because she felt just as safe as he did. We’re the only family mom has, so it’s understandable that she might feel some familial connection here, too. She used to tell me that things only get better because we want them to be, and I try to embrace that saying as much as possible.

“You still got your bike, Lani?” Dad asks from the other side of the kitchen, where he’s staring out the window that faces the street.

“Yes,” I reply, arching a brow.

Dad sips his whiskey, deep in thought. He’s focused on something outside, though I don’t know what. It can’t be my bike—I don’t have it with me since mom picked me up.

“You getting it serviced regularly?” he asks.

“Dad,” I sigh. Sometimes he’s about as subtle as a fire alarm.

“What?” He whips his head around to face me, an innocent smile gracing his lips. He approaches the kitchen island and strokes his hand lovingly over my hair. I can tell he’s making an effort, and for a second, I forget that we’re worlds apart from understanding one another. The thought doesn’t even cross my mind that we’re still battling my previous life choices.

“It’s old,” Dad states with a hint of condescension. “I want my precious girl to be safe.”

My heart squeezes in my chest. It’s rare my dad shows fondness for me. Most of the time we’re at each other’s throats, but this kind of affection definitely helps me forget about our warring personalities. I know I should put my differences aside for my mom’s sake. After all, she’s always been on my side. But it’s my dad; we clash. We speak our minds and we’re quick to anger. We don’t hold back and we certainly don’t let our emotions rule us. Me and dad are too alike, and that’s why we butt heads so often. We’re stubborn and hot-headed and until one of us backs down, we’ll never see eye to eye.

“Yes,” I heave a gentle sigh. “It’s up to date with all its services.”

“Why don’t you get a new one?” Varo chimes in. “It must be rattling by now.”

“It’s not even that old!” I laugh, though the look my dad gives me tells me I’m not fooling him. Aunt Lexie gifted it to me a few years ago. It’s in perfect condition, and I’ve never had any problems with it. Hell, I’ve not even had an accident on it, but there’s no denying that every time I mount that bike, I’m risking my life.

“Lani,” my mom admonishes playfully. “It’s like twenty years old!”

Yeah… she’s right. The bike is old, and if I had the money, I’d buy a new one. One like Roman’s with a shiny new trim and sexy wheels. But that’s just a dream because until I start working, I can’t afford shit.

Okay, that’s a lie. My parents have always provided me with whatever I’ve needed. Not in a spoiled way, but a way that ensures I know where the money came from. I respect them, I respect the hard work they’ve both put in to making sure me and my twin have everything. I understand it couldn’t have been easy, which only makes me want to earn my own money; make my own way in the world.

“Well, I can’t afford a new one right now,” I mutter, eager for the subject to drop.

“You’re not in trouble, are you?” Dad asks, placing his glass on the countertop. His hands grip the edge, knuckles whitening like he’s trying to contain his worry. “Because if you are?—”

“No, I’m not in trouble. I just need to be sensible with money. Besides, it was a gift from Aunt Lexie.”

Dad scoffs before pushing away from the counter. I sense that he’s trying not to force the subject, which I’m grateful for. For once, he’s letting me make a decision despite his bumpy relationship with my aunt.

Unfortunately, my brother doesn’t get the memo. “You could afford a new one if you had a job,” he comments as he steals another carrot from the bowl. “Or if you came to work for me.”

Mom slaps his hand, scowling before she moves the vegetables away from him. “Ignore him, sweetie. If you’re struggling, you can always move?—”

“No, he’s right.” I grimace. Even saying the words out loud makes me want to wretch—sometimes I hate that my brother has good points. Since he’s now leading the family, my dad holds more respect for him. Don’t get me wrong, my brother is a good leader; he learned from the best, after all. But sometimes, I wish he’d just shut up.

“Cori said that Haven is excelling in her clinic,” Mom mentions as she takes the roast chicken out of the oven. “Have you thought about doing something like that?”

“What? Slicing and stitching people? No thanks,” I wince. Just the thought of cutting people open makes me queasy. Sure, I could probably handle blood and violence, but holding a knife to someone's flesh just doesn’t appeal to me.

“Not a doctor,” Dad supplies. “But something professional.”

I feel his hand rest on mine, where my fingers grip the corners of a page. It’s folded and worn from where I’ve let my nerves get the better of me without realizing. All this talk about professional jobs is leading down a path I’m not sure I’m ready to navigate just yet, but with only two weeks to go before I actually start my training, I probably should tell my family.

Inhaling deeply, I try to calm the nerves that feel like frayed edges rubbing against concrete. My palms are sweaty, and I have to wipe them over my jeans so I don’t ruin Mom’s magazine even further. “Actually, I have thought about it.”

“You have?” Varo gapes, his eyes wide with surprise. “You want to be a doctor?”

“Oh!” Mom claps her hands together excitedly. “That’s great, honey!”

“No. Not a doctor. But… umm…”

Dad exhales loudly, intrigue pasted across his dark features. His face looks relaxed, which only worries me more because it’s like the calm before the storm. One wrong gust of wind could turn the tranquility into a tempest. Resting his hand on mine again, he offers me a comforting look, as if I can tell him anything.

Except I can’t.

“Whatever it is, we’ll support you. As long as it’s not something ridiculous,” he says, winking at my brother.

Suddenly, it’s like my nerves have turned to static, one spark away from catastrophe. Anger replaces my anxiety and my fists clench in my lap.

“Like what?” I ask, trying and failing to maintain some semblance of composure.

“The army,” Varo snorts. “The feds.”

I snap my gaze to him, brows furrowing. “Why would that be ridiculous?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Varo!” Mom warns.

I look to my dad, though I don’t know why I think I’d find his approval on the matter. I already know the direction of this conversation, and it doesn’t end well for anyone. “Dad?”

He peers down at me sternly, his lips thinned like he’s holding onto his words. Odd, since Dad’s never really been one to hold back when it comes to me and my life choices. But I’m trying this new thing where I don’t dwell on the past. It’s only been two days, and up until now, I was doing pretty well.

“Tell me!” I fire back. “Why would it be ridiculous if I did any of that? Is it because you don’t think I can do it?”

“Sweetheart, that’s not what your father is saying.” Mom slaps Dad’s arm, scowling at him. “Is it?!” Though I know she’s trying to calm the situation, this conversation has already hit a raw nerve.

With a huff, Dad takes Mom’s small hand in his, never once taking his eyes off me. “No, Alanis. You are capable of anything you set your mind to.”

“But?”

“Chill, sis! It’s not like you’re going to become a cop or something.” Varo’s laugh fills the tension. Whether he’s trying to aggravate the situation or not, he’s about two seconds from getting a black eye. Mom said we’re never to hurt one another, but I’m sure I can convince her to let this one slide.

Glaring at my brother, I ask, “Why not?”

“Because,” he shrugs.

“Because then you’d be the enemy,” Dad growls.

My body freezes, suspended in shock and disbelief. I look into my dad’s dark eyes, where coldness sits staring back at me. There’s no warmth lacing his words, just a warning that makes my blood run cold.

Silence envelopes us. The only sound is that of the boiling water on the stove and the extractor fan whirring maniacally. For what feels like minutes, I stare up at my father.

He knows. He has to. Why else would he put such a threat in those words? Maybe he’s just trying to control me and this is his way of keeping me in line. Maybe he just wants to remind me who our family is. Like I’d ever forget.

For a tense few minutes, the world is silent, and I’m staring at the spark that might be my destruction.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Mom interjects. “Lani, your father is in a weird mood and your brother is just… Vee go set the table!”

We all move as one. My brother grabs cutlery from the drawer, the metal clinking as he leaves the room. My dad busies himself, pouring another drink while my mom fusses over the chicken.

Grabbing my phone, I push up off the stool. I feel sick, hot and nauseated. It’s not just the heat of the kitchen, but my father’s glare as the metal of my chair scrapes across the floor.

“Lani?” Mom spins around, soft eyes gazing back at me. “Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here.” My footsteps echo in the silence as I leave the kitchen, marching towards the front door.

“But we’re about to have dinner!”

“I’m not hungry!” I call back, and I don’t give anyone the chance to chase me down. I slam the door behind me and pull out the Uber app. The further I get away from here the better.