IT WOULD BE A PAIN IN THE ASS TO BUY GUNS IN ENGLAND. At least I have five different silenced guns and ten boxes of reformed bullets. Either way, I'll constantly stay with at least one of my daggers, which I made with my mom when I was 12, Chiara reassured herself, touching the dagger that was inside the right frontal pocket of her black sweatpants.
She kept one of the air pods on her ears, playing Big Boy by SZA, her brother's favorite song, and she put the other one on her pocket, grabbing her backpack and leaving the car when Phineas opened it up for her. "Welcome to your new home, Miss Rebecca."
"Sti cazzi," she mumbled, and when he blinked in confusion again, she glared at him. "It means that I don't give a damn."
"Oh," he blushed. "I'll try learning Italian, Miss."
Chiara grimaced, "Sti cazzi," she exclaimed and walked to where the frontal door was, but before she could open it, a tall blonde girl in high heels opened and stared at her with a big smile on. "Dio Santo," she mumbled to herself as she saw the happiness of the girl who she had just stalked on the computer. She's pale, is she healthy? She isn't starving herself to stay slim like this, is she?
"Cousin!" Khloe yelled happily and tried to hug her, but she evaded it. "Regardless of you not wanting my dear hug, I'm really happy to finally meet you."
"I cannot say the same, given the circumstances of my life," Chiara exclaimed dryly, and put her hands on her pockets before her cousin could try to any kind of physical contact. "I'm Chiara."
She giggled, "I know. But now you'll be Rebecca now."
Che due coglioni- [what the fuck?] "And why is that?"
"Dear God, you look just like your mother," her uncle came into view, and she glared at him, absorbing his blonde straight hair, light blue eyes, pale skin, and high height, which his daughter took from him.
That's papa's brother. "And you look just like papa. You must be my zio, Kingsley Joshua Armstrong." She glared at him from head to toe, judging and wary. But in respect, she took her remaining air pod and put on her pocket with its pair. "Can I come in?"
"Is she here?" Kevin ran to them, also towering over Chiara, and looking like a copy of his father. "Oh, wow, how did you come out so short when uncle was 1.90m?"
Chiara frowned, "Testa di cazzo, that isn't a friendly thing to say when you meet someone, cousin. And I'm not short. I'm 1.67m, and I have mama's height, don't you understand genetics, stronzo?"
He blinked, "Why do I feel like you cursed me?"
"She did," his mom came near them, also blonde, also pale, also with blue eyes. "She called you a dickhead and then she called you an asshole," the tall woman turned to Chiara who had was staring at her already. "Welcome, kid. I'm sorry for all that has been happening in your life."
Hah, it seems like there is at least one brain cell in the side of papa's famiglia, after all. "Can I sit down?"
Kingsley took the thermal bottle from her hand and sniffed it, then frowned, "You are seventeen, you shouldn't be drinking vodka, at your age, Chiara."
She glared at him again, "With all due respect, zio, you don't get to tell me what I do or not. I've been drinking since I turned 14, and I won't stop just because you are telling me to, or because it's weird for you here in the UK. Especially not when I just fucking lost my family. I have a free pass with God to drink as much alcohol as I want. But if you were worried for my healthy, which I doubt to be the case, I only drink sometimes, and I'll be turning 18 in four months. I'm not an alcoholic, if that's what you are worried for. Wrong twin," she exclaimed bitterly and took her bottle from his hand.
As they didn't say anything, she took her boots off and sat down on the couch. "You don't need to take off your shoes!"
Again, she glared at Kevin in pure judgement. "That's not how I was raised. I do not enjoy dirtying anything, especially not someone else's house. It's a matter of respect, stronzo."
God's above, she's identical to Caterina. Tanned skin, long curly light brown hair that goes down to her hips, siren green eyes, long eyelashes, pouty full lips, small snub nose, high cheekbones, dark full straight eyebrows, dimples in both cheeks that come in display even when she doesn't speak, clear spotless skin, sharp jaw, and the same short height. I don't doubt that she might have an hourglass-shaped body under the hoodie like her mom. It's impressive. "You really look like your mother," her uncle gasped as he stared at her. "Even your attitude."
He grinned at how she scoffed. Plus, the terrible addiction of cursing in Italian, and the dangerous air around her that gives an intimidating look. I don't doubt that she's into the mafia road as well.
"Col cavolo," [no way], she mocked, "maybe that's because mama gave birth to me, and its nature for a baby to take after their madre, padre, or nonni. Genetics. Regarding my attitude, I was raised by mama, so it was expected."
"What does nonni means?" Khloe asked curious.
Chiara couldn't help but to judge her cousin and feel the urge to call her dumb. However, she did her best to be patient, she would have to live with them now for good or bad, so it would be better to choose her fights wisely, "Grandparents. Nonna means grandmother, nonno is grandfather, nonni is grandparents. Mama and madre means mom and mother respectively. Papa and padre means dad and father respectively. I only call them that, so you will get used to it." At least the basics of the basics of the basics they should know. "Family is famiglia. Sister is sorella, brother is fratello. Zio is uncle, zia is aunt."
Oh, I thought she would curse at me like she did to Kevin, but she explained it in an easy way. "Okay. I'll remember that. But as you said you say that a lot, I'll get used to it."
"How many languages do you speak, cousin?" Kevin asked, leaning back on the couch and staring at her. She's pretty that's for sure. But she looks devastated, like a truck has passed over her thrice. It's expected, though. She did lose her parents and twins after all.
"Nineteen. Only eleven fluently, though," and as she said that a shadow descended over her eyes. "Me and my twins always liked to compete to see who had mastered more languages faster."
Poor kid. "And what languages do you speak?"
Chiara got a hold of herself and turned to Millie, "Italian, English, Spanish, German, French, Romanian, Brazilian Portuguese, Russian, Japanese, Mandarin, Korean, Polish, Latin, Greek, Swedish, Hindi, Filipino, Egyptian, and the last I learn was Arabic."
"Why Latin, Greek, and Egyptian? Are you into history like that?" Millie tried to ease the mood.
"Yes," but Chiara cut it short and turned to Kingsley. "Why is it that my documents were changed to this weird name? It doesn't suit me."
I hope she doesn't freak out. She must have a temper since both my brother and her mother did. "It was not me who did that, Chiara, but Rufus. Not to attract any danger to your life and your siblings', he used his power to pretend that you all lived on York, and that you were all born and raised here in England."
"Che due coglioni… Why would he do that? Papa never told me anything about this, neither did mama. Not to me, nor my twins."
Kingsley poured a glass of wine for each of them, and one for her, now that he knows she drinks and won't stop just because he doesn't approve that, "Rufus kept lots of business relations in the UK, and he pretended to live here. It's not like he could let anyone know that he moved to Italy to live with your mother, given all the… problematic cloud around her, her family, and her surname."
Her eyes were full of recognition, "You know!"
"Yes. I do. All of us," he pointed to his wife and children, "know. That the Di Matteo is one of the richest and most dangerous mafia clans in Italy. And that your mother was the consigliere, of the family. I never approved of it because of the danger, but Rufus never heard me. Look where that got him and your family."