His Mafia Prince
Chapter 33: Shot Glass of Tears

Chapter 33: Shot Glass of Tears

(SASHA)

For the next one hour, I hide with Tyler in the study. It is absurd that I want his company especially now. I’m too emotional to be in front of anyone now. Tyler’s energy however feels comforting. I had noticed that about him before. He doesn’t judge me for being emotional. Part of me suspects he even likes it.

Maybe it comforts him to know I’m not a complete menace.

(SASHA)

We don’t talk much. We stay in silence for a generous amount of time, staring into the flames in the fireplace. I’m scared of the emptiness that will be without my father.

The day I dread with my life has finally come. Father won’t be alive by morning. I know that in my gut. I should go be by his side, alongside Mother and Jericho, but I know I’ll be too overwhelmed and I’ll cry. I’ve tried to get my emotions under control ever since I learnt about Father’s sickness. Father hates when any of us cries. I doubt I’ve ever cried in front of him since I was little.

I know I’ve prepared for this role my entire life, but stepping into my father’s shoes scares me. The Triple Triad Syndicate is a big organization. I have no idea how I’ll begin to run it, especially with Angelo relentlessly planting doubts into my men.

"You kissed me because it is a standard wedding practice?" Tyler asks in a low tone.

"No." I meet his curious gaze.

"Oh, I thought you did because it was expected. And because everyone was watching."

"I kissed you because I wanted to."

A shade of pink works up on his cheek.

"Easy, Tyler. I’m not going to have my way with you. Not tonight. I just wanted to know what you taste like." I rub the back of my neck. "Just a kiss. It’s no big deal."

"Alright. Also, I heard you instruct the staff earlier to move my stuff into your room."

"Yes. I told them to. Like I told you earlier, we need to share the room once married. Everybody will be curious about it, even the staff. It can’t be known that this is a sham marriage. Otherwise, there wasn’t a point in going through with it to begin with.

"Alright then." He swallows thickly and his reaction makes me laugh humorlessly.

"Tyler, I’m not going to fuck you tonight. Not when all I can think of is my dying father.

He looks flustered by my comment. "I don’t know you that well, Sasha. But the little I know wouldn’t lead me to trust you."

"What now, you think I’m a rapist?" I watch him intently. "No. I’m anything but that"

"I’m sorry." He stays silent for a beat. "I can’t help being suspicious. I thought maybe I’d get more time to, you know, familiarize. And to get used to being around you. We’re already married. I can’t believe it."

"Me too, Tyler," I admit reluctantly. "I thought we’d have more time. Turns out we don’t."

His shoulders drop as he sighs. "I’m sorry for what your family is going through, Sasha. This night is awful to me, but I know it’s worse for you. You’re losing your father."

"Mmh...This is going to be a long, horrible night. I could use a drink," I get up and head for the wet bar. My body feels heavy. "You want a drink?" I ask.

"I can’t remember?" I point at my rounded belly.

"Oh, shit. I forgot. What of a soda?"

"No. Thanks. If it’s alright with you I’ll just head to bed." He gets to his feet and then looks at me. "Unless you want my company?"

Oddly enough, I’d prefer his company. It’s the truth. But I’ll die first before I admit that to him. The last thing I want is to give him some kind of power. I don’t want that. "No," I shake my head lightly. "It’s alright. I’d love some time alone." I lie.

"Alright then, you have a good night, Sasha."

"Goodnight, Tyler," I say, still gazing into the flames. One his footsteps recede and I’m sure he is gone, I mutter to myself. "I shouldn’t have kissed him."

It was a mistake. Not only because it gave Tyler a wrong impression but because it felt so fucking good. I run a finger on my lower lip, reminiscing his taste and scent that still lingers in my senses. It’s going to be tortuous not having him by my side. There’s a greedy part of me that wants to use him tonight, but I won’t. I will behave. I don’t want to endanger the frail bonds between us.

I decide it’s time to go be by my family’s side. Much as this is hard on me, I know it is just as hard on them. They need my support too. I finish my drink in a gulp and set the glass on the table then hoist myself up. My emotions are under control, I think. Perhaps I can handle myself now. I’ll try my best to.

I leave Father’s study and head to his bedroom.

Jericho perches by the foot of the bed. He is clutching Father’s fingers between his, holding his chin with them. He looks distraught. Mother too looks beat. The mood here is disheartening. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. I feel bad for Mother and Jericho, but mostly for myself given the responsibility about to land on me. I have to be strong now, for them and us.

Father gives it a brave effort, but by sunrise, he draws his final breath and goes still. Jericho falls on his chest and so does Mother.

He is gone, and now, Mother, Jericho and I can cry. And we do cry. Much as she knew this was coming, Mother is gutted. She is a wreck. I wish there was something I could do to make her feel better, but that is a long shot now considering I am a wreck myself.

The news travels fast, and soon, the men begin to call to offer their condolences. I summon composure that I know I don’t have right now while speaking to them. I have to be strong for my family. With my father gone, I’m technically the head. I have to be just as strong as my father was.

So far, I haven’t received any threatening messages or calls. I haven’t received any concern about my leadership abilities from the men. If anything, they all seem truly gutted by my father’s death as they pledge their loyalty to my family. They seem sincere.

My father was a strong man who had the respect of his subordinates. Some might even say he was loved.

A few hours later, the funeral home director arrives to take father’s body. Jericho offers to accompany him and I’m glad he does. I appreciate his help because I have to make numerous phone calls and meetings to attend. I have to inform the heads of the other syndicates about my father’s passing. I also have to plan alongside others for a huge funeral for people who wish to pay their last respects.

After all he did to get us here, my father deserves a befitting funeral. And that exactly is what I’m going to make happen.