EJ's pov

Now that Claire and I have fled from Italy, my father, and the family business altogether, it's time to figure out what comes next. I don't regret my decision to leave my old life behind, with Tony's brat in tow, but I honestly didn't think things through either. I planned our escape down to the last detail but I didn't have enough time to plan out a course of action for our survival once we actually got out.

What the Hell do I do now? I thought to myself as Claire and I sat down to dine al fresco at a small cafe.

"Tomaré un vaso de chardonnay y la niña tomará una limonada, gracias (I will have a glass of chardonnay and the girl will have a lemonade, thank you)," I told the waiter, as he placed two menus atop the small round table.

"I didn't know you could speak Spanish, Uncle EJ," my clueless niece babbled in her annoying American accent.

"I'm surprised you recognized what language I was speaking. Perhaps there's hope for you yet to become bilingual before you're eighty," I snarked, picking up the menu to view my options, despite not having much of an appetite. "There's a lot you don't know about me, mia nipote (my niece), and if you ever bothered to study your Italian, you would know several words are quite similar in Spanish."

"Does this mean I don't have to study my Italian while we're not in Italy?" Claire asked, as the waiter set our drinks down. "When are we going back, anyway? I only packed enough clothes for a few days. And where did you put my phone? I want to call Aunt Lexie and Samantha?" She looked at me expectantly while taking a sip of her lemonade.

After taking a rather large gulp of chardonnay, I eyed my niece closely as I pondered how I was going to break the news to her that we were not going back to Italy and she'd never speak to her aunt or any of her friends ever again.

"Just decide what you want to eat before I call the waiter back over." Alright, so I'm a coward. I admit it. I'm afraid of facing the wrath of an eleven-year-old girl, so sue me.

"It's in Spanish, Uncle EJ. I can't read the menu. Duh!" my bratty little niece replied snottily, making me want to reach across the table and smack her.

I restrained myself though as I didn't want to bring any undue, unwanted attention to ourselves. She'll pay for that snide remark at some point as I'll bank it for later.

Sighing at her uncultured ignorance, I said, "They have rice and beans and pork sandwiches. Which do you want?"

"That's it?" she whined. "There's like fifteen different things listed on the menu. How can they only have rice and beans and a pork sandwich?" She looked at me like I was a two-headed alien space creature. "Why are you lying to me?"

I simply shook my head and took a few calming breaths.

"I'm not lying to you. They're all just variations of... You know what? Nevermind, I'll just order for you since you're being obstinate."

"No! Uncle EJ, I'm not being opposite or whatever you just said," she whined in her nails on a chalkboard grating tone of voice, as she slammed the menu down noisily on the tabletop.

I gave her my parental watch yourself look, so she spoke much more politely now.

"Please just read me the menu."

"One time, piccola ragazza (little girl), and then you will choose, or I'll take you into el baño (the bathroom) and spank some cooperation into you. Capiscimi (Understand me)?"

"Si, Zio (Yes, Uncle), I understand you, even though you're not making any sense," she said, mumbling the last part under her breath.

Ignoring her facetiousness for the sake of time and simplicity, I proceeded to translate the menu for her. Thankfully, my annoying niece wisely chose her lunch option rather quickly after hearing the choices. Once we ordered our meals and another glass of wine for me, I started to formulate a plan to at least get us through the next few days. Baby steps.

Meanwhile back at safehouse eleven

Stefano's pov

"Father, what the Hell is going on? Where is my daughter?" my son questioned, quite rudely and angrily.

"Attento a come mi parli, ragazzo mio (Watch the way you speak to me, my boy). Faresti bene a non alzare di nuovo la voce con me (You'd be wise not to raise your voice to me again). Capiscimi (Understand me)?" I replied sharply. I'm already furious with Elliot James for deviating from the agreed upon plan so I don't have the patience to deal with another one of my ill-mannered sons right now.

"Sì, Padre, capisco (Yes, Father, I understand)," Anthony replied, with respect this time.

I don't know whom he thinks he is, speaking to me in that tone of voice but I won't hesitate to remind him if the need arises. I raised one eyebrow in warning as I scowled at my eldest son. He should certainly know better after all the whippings he received growing up. I swear the boy spent so much time over my knees, all my trousers had wear marks across the thighs.

"Mi scuso per aver perso la calma (I apologize for losing my temper). Sono solo arrabbiato che Claire non sia qui, Padre, non vedevo l'ora di vederla (I'm just upset Claire isn't here, Father, I was really looking forward to seeing her)," my boy replied sadly.

Patting his cheek rather firmly, I responded, "I know you're disappointed Francesca isn't here, Anthony, but don't despair. I promise she is safe with your brother and we will find them." I know Elliot James would never hurt her. I just don't understand why he felt the need to take off with her. Does he know something I don't? Whom is he trying to protect? Regardless, I don't want to give Anthony any indication I'm worried about how things turned out. I can't let him think I don't have everything under control.

"I wish I could be as positive as you, Father, but we both know my little brother is as impulsive as he is immature. Non pensa alle cose (He doesn't think things through). Why would he betray us like this?"

Holding Anthony's face in my hands, I looked him in the eyes.

"I don't know what Elliot James's motives were for deviating from the agreed upon plan and disappearing with Francesca but I am certain your brother would never jeopardize his niece's safety. He has grown up a lot since you've been gone. È ferocemente protettivo nei confronti di tua figlia e ha lavorato duramente per mantenere il suo impegno nei tuoi confronti (He's fiercely protective of your daughter and he's worked hard to fulfill his commitment to you)." A lump formed in my throat as I watched my son breakdown before me.

"I just want to see my daughter, Father. I want to hold her in my arms, hug and kiss her, tell her how much I love her and how much I've missed her," he said, choking up with overwhelming emotion and disappointment. "It's been so long."

Anthony collapsed into my arms, his tears flowing freely now. I've never seen him display his feelings to such an extent. My God, he certainly has changed since Francesca entered his life. My son loves his little girl with all his heart. It's obvious he would lay down his life for her without question. My boy has truly become a father.

"Non sono mai stato più orgoglioso di te, Figlio, di quanto lo sia in questo momento (I've never been prouder of you, Son, than I am at this moment)."

Wiping his eyes as he sniffled, Tony chuckled, "I don't understand why you'd be proud of me when I'm a total basket case here, Father. I mean, look at me, I'm a mess." He turned away, ashamed of being so vulnerable.

"My boy, look me in the eyes," I ordered sternly. Tony knows this tone of voice well as he certainly heard it enough growing up. It almost always preceded a punishment and most definitely indicated no less than a firm scolding.

Wisely heeding the meaning underladen in the timbre of my voice, my son immediately turned to face me.

"Yes, Father?"

"Anthony, you have always erroneously equated expressing one's emotions with being weak. However..." I held Anthony's cheek in one hand as I firmly grasped the back of his neck with the other. "...you couldn't be more wrong, my son. Little boys hide from their feelings but men display them, wearing them on their sleeves like badges of honor." Cupping his chin, ensuring eye contact, I continued, "Seeing the way you feel about Francesca makes me proud, Son. A man loves, values, and protects his family above all else. A man will sacrifice everything he owns, his life even, to keep his family safe. The day you went into hiding, Son, you became a man."

"I'd do anything for Claire, Father. I'd go to the ends of the earth for her. I'd kill for her. I'd die for her. I'd do anything, I mean it."

Anthony spoke with such passion in his voice and such conviction in his words that I have no doubt he will do an excellent job as patriarch of this family when I step down, or am dead and buried.

"Hai la mia parola, Figlio, che non ci fermeremo finché non troveremo tua figlia (You have my word, Son, that we won't stop until we find your daughter)."

"So where do we go from here, Father? I'm ready to bring my little girl home," Anthony stated confidently. "Tell me what we need to do. Farò tutto il necessario per riavere Claire anche se questo significa uccidere mio fratello (I'll do whatever it takes to get Claire back, even if it means killing my own brother)."