Summary: Vittoria accompanies her father to the opening banquet at his newest hotel, and reminds him that she shouldn't be left alone.
“But I don’t want it,” she huffed and crossed her arms.
Admittedly, her posture was inappropriate for the setting, but that’s what he gets for taking me somewhere I didn’t wanna go! A black-tie event was never fun for her, but when Papa had to make an appearance and didn’t want women fussing over him, she was his date.
The Caesar Hotel was her Papa’s latest finished project. The ceiling was high and bedazzled with small lights assembled in the pattern of constellations. Daddy’s own touch. Carefully curated Roman statues and fountains were neatly arranged in the grand room. She could actually name the scenes and emperors the statues were depicting, a bonding activity she shared with her father. Gold weaved through the white and gray marbled flooring, which came at her own suggestion. It adds sparkle! The room was lavish and the people were having a grand time, while she however was not.
“You don’t even have to eat the whole thing, just finish your vegetables,” Papa said frustratedly, scraping the vegetables to one side of the plate.
“They’re watery…” she wrinkled her nose.
“Vittoria, you’re not leaving this table until you eat all of your vegetables,” he said with his I mean business voice.
“No isn’t a word you say to me,” Papa hissed before waving down Sawyer.
“I have some people to talk to. Stay with her until she eats all of her vegetables and then come find me,” he said dismissively before leaning into Vittoria, “I will throw out that music box if you don’t finish them by the end of the night.”
And with that last threat, he left. He gives up too easily, she thought bitterly. Her face brightened and she smirked mischievously. Sawyer though…would be a challenge.
Sawyer proved, in fact, to not be a challenge. After just a few minutes, he was gone.
Vittoria, objecting to proper society standards, put her elbow on the table and leaned against it. She was bored and uncomfortable, and well, there was no one paying attention to her anyways. Sawyer was annoying but at least entertaining company. I can’t believe he left me! Her finger started making patterns on the tablecloth, triangle, square, heart. Heart, square, triangle. Trapezoid…
Her boredom went on until the table and silverware shook as a large stout man took a seat beside her. He unclasped the button of his suit coat and reclined against the seat, gripping his champagne and taking a polite sip. Vittoria stared at the man who had a nervous energy to him. Stress had stripped away the top of his black, now graying, hair and worry lines engraved in his round features. In fact, the man reminded her painfully of Mr. Bianchi with his olive complexion and dark eyes. Her heart hurt at the thought of the late elder and said a silent prayer for him.
It was a sizable moment before he noticed her staring at him, and it must have caught him off guard because he gave a quiet shriek. “Hello,” she said.
When the redness left his face, he regained his composure and smiled back, pushing his small glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Well hello. How long have you been there?”
“I’m not sure,” she said honestly, “But I was here when you sat down.”
He laughed, “You’re a quiet little thing. I’m sorry to have missed you.”
“That’s okay. I’m small but I’m gonna grow.”
“My Papa’s a giant!” she said, making a big gesture with her arms.
“Is he?” the man chuckled.
“Uh-huh!” she said pleasantly.
The man looked uncomfortable, his dark eyes searching the room for her guardian. “Where’s your mother? I can hardly believe she left you all alone.”
“My Mama’s dead. It’s only me and Papa,” she said as she took a dainty sip of her sparkling cider from her wine glass.
They offered her a cup, but she requested a glass. I want people to take me seriously.
If the man was red before, he turned ghostly white at his misstep. He nervously cleared his throat, “I-I’m sorry…”
Vittoria shrugged. “It’s fine,” she said as she put her glass back down, “My Papa’s talking to very important people but I hadn’t finished my dinner so then he made Uncle Charlie babysit me but he went to get a drink because he doesn’t like me and is an alcoholic.”
He’s not but that’s what he gets for leaving me! “Oh my! All alone?!”
Vittoria nodded sadly to gain some sympathy. “That wasn’t very gentlemanly of him. And I doubt your father will be pleased. It’s wrong to leave little girls all alone," the man continued in admonishment.
“Yes sir. There are perverts and predators everywhere!”
The man’s eyebrows raised but he nodded, “Quite right. Well tell you what, I’ll sit with you until your Papa comes back and if it’s been too long, we’ll go look for him. Deal?”
“Wow, so you’re in, what? Third or fourth grade?’
“Fourth grade sir,” she said proudly, “I think. I’m homeschooled.”
His eyebrows met his receding hairline. “Homeschooled? Well I’ll be da-, haven’t heard or met anyone who does that. Do you like it?”
“What’s your favorite thing to learn about?”
Vittoria brightened. “Art! I love art! I do watercolor paintings and sometimes use glitter with them, when my Papa watches me so I don’t make a mess. He loves art too. We’re a lot alike, we’re both curly blondes,” she blabbed, “Anyway, when I went to real school I was the best artist in my class. I even knew cursive!”
“What? That’s incredible!” he smiled, entertaining the child.
“I’m not much of an artist myself but I do know a neat little trick.”
“It’s called origami. It’s the Japanese art of paper folding,” he smiled and reached for a napkin, “Want to see?”
She nodded and scooted her chair forward eagerly. She was quite glad she did watch, because as he folded the corners together, it took the shape of a, “That’s a bird!” she gasped.
“It is!” he laughed and flapped its wings, “Do you wanna try?”
Vittoria nodded excitedly and for the next several minutes, she ended up making a mini zoo out of napkins she folded into animals. The man even played with her, his kindness extending even further. “You’re a creative storyteller…” he praised before he took on a reprimanding tone, “Unbelievable…”
“What?” she asked, her voice grew small and her brows furrowed worried that he was angry with her or she had offended him in some way.
“I have been so rude. I haven’t introduced myself or even asked your name,” he grumbled.
Vittoria let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. “My name’s Benjamin Nizzola, pleased to meet you,” he said, extending his hand for a shake.
She smiled back at him, “You’re Italian?”
“Yes,” he coughed uncomfortably, retracting his hand.
“I am too!” she said, making him smile again and puffed out her little chest as she proudly began to introduce herself in Italian, “Mi chiamo Vittoria! Vittoria Bor-”
“Benny boy!” chortled another plump man, who landed his meaty hand on her new friend’s shoulder.
“Hello Steve,” he grinned, “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Well where there’s a party, so am I! Now, you’ve got to come with me. I have someone to introduce you to!”
Vittoria frowned, not ready to be left alone again. “Actually I’m watching this, very polite,” she smiled at that, “little girl until her father gets back. So if you could bring them here, I’d greatly appreciate it.”
Steve scoffed, “Only because I like you so much.”
The man skulked off. “Thank you Mr. Nizzola,” she whispered.
“It’d be an ungentlemanly thing to do to leave you alone. You seem to know your manners very well. I’m impressed,” he complimented.
“I...my tutors teach me…” she said nervously, remembering her late etiquette teacher.
“Well you’re an excellent learner!” he complimented, a rosy flush returning to his olive cheeks.
“Grazie! Non ero un bravo studente prima, ma-” she began before he cut her off.
“I apologize, I’m uh...third generation. I don’t speak Italian,” he said uncomfortably, pulling at his collar.
Vittoria’s smile faltered for a moment. Every Italian man she had come across knew the language, her father had said all real Italians could speak it and- Vittoria Borghese! You didn’t speak Italian at first! You’re still Italian! “That’s okay,” she said comfortingly, “Learning new languages is hard. I remember when I moved to a different country, I didn’t know the language!”
Mr. Nizzola smiled, “Well your English is very good and so is your accent. You sound almost All American.”
Vittoria frowned. Almost? “Do you like it here in America?” he asked, taking a sip of champagne and looked behind him for his friend.
No. “Yes,” she said pleasantly, “But I like Italy more.”
“That’s normal for most immigrants,” he said off-handedly.
“La gente in Italia era più gentile,” she whispered, “But what about you? Do you like it here?”
“In Garland?” he asked, his glasses falling down the bridge of his nose again, “Well...I’m just visiting. I prefer to stay away from the city.”
Vittoria nodded understandingly, “I know what you mean. It sometimes smells and it’s too loud.”
Mr. Nizzola was silent for a moment, his face taking on a worried expression as if something was haunting him. Mama looked like that when she worried too. “Sir?”
Whatever trance he was in broke, and he laughed, “Sorry about that! Thinking about some old business!”
As she was about to ask, he cut her off again, “Now this is a party and I don’t think the owners of those chocolate cakes are coming back, so whadda you say?”
Mr. Nizzola pulled two of them towards them. Vittoria adored this man and wanted to be polite, but… “My Papa doesn’t let me have sweets. Especially at night.”
Mr. Nizzola frowned, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
She hated the pity that laced his voice. “It’s okay,” she said, “But he lets me have fruits.”
“How generous,” Mr. Nizzola muttered under his breath before he put the champagne back to his lips.
“I like strawberries and bananas!”
“Well those are some good fruits,” he said, the disapproval leaving his tone.
Mr. Nizzola raised his hand and waved down a caterer carrying a tray of chocolate strawberries, taking two plates for themselves. When the plate was put in front of her, she smiled. “Here we go. You can peel the chocolate off and-”
“That's okay! I’ll eat it like it is!”
Mr. Nizzola laughed and picked from his own plate. The next few moments were nice, and she had almost finished her entire plate when, “Vittoria, time to go.”
She looked up and grinned, “Papa!”
But his eyes weren’t looking at her, instead at Mr. Nizzola with a hellish hatred. And when she looked over at the stout man, whose gaze had an equal mixture of terror and loathing, she cowered. Her Papa was never physically rough with her, but he grabbed her so harshly she cried out. It must’ve not been her fault she realized when he had pushed her behind him protectively but it still had scared her. Mr. Nizzola stood up defiantly, which did little good given that he was much shorter than her Papa. Her Papa was a broad imposing figure and the way he stood mimicked a bear rising in dominance. “Y-you shouldn’t be here,” Mr. Nizzola said, trying to make his voice sound courageous, “I-Italy. You’re supposed to be in Italy.”
Her Papa sneered and if it weren’t for Sawyer coming up and saying his name, reminding them there was a crowd, well...Vittoria wasn’t sure what he’d do to Mr. Nizzola. “Mr….Mr. Nizzola taught me how...how to make p-paper cranes,” she said in her tiny voice, “See?”
She held up the crane, trying to show her Papa she was in no real danger. But that just made the situation worse. His voice, usually angel-like, took the sound of a demon. “Never talk to my daughter again. Ever.”
Mr. Nizzola seemed like a level-headed man but that apparently faded. “You don’t deserve a child. You don’t deserve to be a father, not-”
Papa stepped forward but Sawyer put his hand up, “You said it was time to go. It’s nearly ten. Time for her to go to bed.”
“You should consider going back to wherever you came from,” Papa hissed before swiftly turning and pulling Vittoria along with him.
She sympathetically looked back and gave a small wave goodbye. He was nice to me. But whatever was between him and Papa, soured the relationship. Mr. Nizzola looked at her and the familiarity of her family in her appearance ruined whatever friendship they had. He didn’t even smile at my goodbye.
When they were in the limo, her Papa went off. “What did you two talk about?” he demanded, his tone scarier then she’d ever heard it.
Vittoria immediately started to cry, “N-nothing Papa!”
“Nothing?” he scoffed before turning his rage on Sawyer, “Why did you leave her alone?!”
“No. No excuse could be good enough!” he growled before turning back to her, “What did he say to you?!”
“W-we only only t-talked about,” she sobbed, “Origami a-and art and s-school! I’m sorry Papa! I didn’t know!”
“I don’t believe you. That’s not all. What else?!”
Vittoria was shaking, ready to throw up. “I-I told him Mama’s dead and I on-only l-live with y-you! But that’s it! I swear Papa!”
“Did you tell him how she died?!”
“Leonardo!” Sawyer jumped in.
“Not a word!” he snapped before grabbing her chin, “You are to never talk to him again. Ever! Is that understood?!”
Vittoria nodded. When she opened her watery green eyes, her Papa’s softened. “Oh Vittoria,” he cooed, “I’m sorry. But you have to understand that I’m very protective of you.”
“I-is he dangerous?” she hiccuped.
Papa nodded. “Yes. I was worried he’d hurt you and that made me very angry. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
He’s not mad at me. He was trying to protect me! Her Papa pulled her closer, allowing her to snuggle under his arm. Vittoria relaxed, the stress leaving her body knowing that she wasn’t in trouble. “I’ll make it up to you. We’ll go to the park tomorrow, hm?”
As her Papa looked down at her, she saw out of the corner of her eye Sawyer looking on in disgust and pity. “Okay,” she nodded.
When they returned home, he put her right to bed with the help of a sedative or two. Take a moment to decompress, to- “That was a terrible decision.”
He internally groaned. “A decision that wouldn’t have to have been made if you had stayed with her like I asked.”
“You didn’t ask, but that’s beside the point. You just had a very public confrontation with Nizzola. If something happens-”
“Nothing will happen as long as he stays away. The audacity of the man to even imply I shouldn’t have my daughter.”
That alone made him see red. As a father who lost his own child, he could see where Nizzola’s rage stemmed from, but to insinuate he didn’t deserve Vittoria was unwarranted. After everything I’ve gone through, I deserve her most of all. Charles was quiet in the corner. “Last I heard, he had moved to a suburb in Hoboken. I don’t think he plans on staying in New York. Too many memories.”
Leonardo nodded. For his sake, he should stay there.
