Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 84756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“No, this is my first time away from Sicily.”
“Your English is good,” she compliments me.
“My parents had me attend extra lessons,” I inform her.
“Have you called them to let them know you’ve landed safely?”
I shake my head. “No. I have to get a SIM card.”
“You can use the house phone.”
I hesitate for a moment, but too scared to lie to Damiano’s mother, I say, “I doubt they’re worried about me, and they’ll ask questions I can’t answer, so I’d rather not call them.”
Her left eyebrow lifts while a frown forms on her forehead. “You’re not close with your parents?”
“Not at all.”
“That’s a shame,” she murmurs.
Mrs. Accardi comes into the sitting room and sits down near Mrs. Falco. With both women facing me, I start to feel nervous again.
“What are we talking about?” she asks Mrs. Falco.
“We’re getting to know Gabriella,” Mrs. Falco answers. Turning her attention back to me, she asks, “Did you find everything to your liking in your suite?”
“Yes. Thank you. The room is beautiful.”
“If you need anything, just let Martha know.”
“Thank you,” I murmur.
Mrs. Accardi gives me a curious look, then leans forward and whispers, “Do you know why Damiano brought you to the mansion? I asked Carlo, but he wouldn’t tell me.”
I shake my head. “Unfortunately, I don’t.”
Mrs. Falco’s expression also becomes curious. “What happened at the meeting?”
“Not much,” I answer. “Mr. Falco wasn’t at my parents' house for more than an hour when he ordered his guards to pack my belongings. It all happened really fast. He didn’t offer any explanation for why he didn’t give his blessing.”
“You said you’re twenty-three?” Mrs. Falco asks.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She scrunches her nose as if she’s disgusted. “Stefano’s almost fifty. That’s twice your age!”
I swallow hard before agreeing, “Yes.”
“Damiano did the right thing,” his mother mutters as she leans back in her armchair. “What does Stefano want with such a young bride?”
“You know what,” Mrs. Accardi grumbles.
Mrs. Falco shakes her head. “Stefano should marry someone his own age.” She glances in my direction again. “Whatever Damiano has planned for you, it will be much better than marrying my nephew.”
The words actually make me feel relieved and a little overwhelmed. I stare at the women as a weird sensation trickles into my chest.
“I really hope so,” I whisper.
“Tell us, what do you like to do in your spare time?” Mrs. Accardi asks.
“I make skincare and makeup tutorials for social media.”
“Oh, did you study to become a beautician?” Mrs. Falco asks.
I relax completely and actually start to enjoy the conversation.
“No. I learned everything from watching videos on YouTube.”
Before they can ask me another question, Martha comes into the sitting room. “Can I unpack your belongings, Miss di Bella?”
“Oh, let me help,” I say as I rise from the armchair. Looking at Mrs. Falco and Mrs. Accardi, I ask, “May I be excused?”
“Of course,” Mrs. Falco replies. “Once you’re settled, come join us again.”
“Okay.”
I follow Martha out of the sitting room, feeling much better after the pleasant morning.
By the time we reach my bedroom, the pleasant feeling starts to fade, and soon, the worry returns because I still have no idea what Damiano plans to do with me.
Chapter 7
Damiano
Standing out on the veranda with my eyes roaming over the backyard and guards, I don’t glance behind me when I hear movement.
I recognize my mother’s steps, and bracing myself for a million questions, I turn to face her.
She takes a seat on one of the lounge chairs, then says, “Greta says the girl is beautiful.”
I move closer and sit down on one of the chairs. With my gaze resting on my mother, I mutter, “Aunt Greta is right.”
“Did you take Gabriella for yourself?” she asks, getting right to the point.
“No.” I glance at the open French doors before saying, “I’m going to arrange a marriage between Dario and Gabriella.”
“Oh.” Mamma’s eyebrow flies up. “He’s such a sweet boy. He’ll be good to her.”
“She better be good to him,” I mutter.
“Always so protective,” Mamma chuckles.
“Don’t tell her. I need to talk with Dario before she’s informed of the arranged marriage.”
“Okay.” She takes a deep breath before letting it out slowly, then asks, “Is Stefano very upset that you took his fiancée?”
“Probably.”
My gaze drifts over my mother’s face before they lock on the blank stare in her eyes.
She lost her sight the night I killed my father. It’s been nineteen years, and I still remember every second of that night.
My mother’s cries as he beat her.
The kick against her head that put her in a coma for three weeks.
Her blood soaking into the wooden floorboards.
I lost my mind and beat my father to death with my bare fists. He was unrecognizable by the time I was done.
It changed my entire life, and I became the head of the Cosa Nostra at nineteen.
At the time, Carlo’s mother was our housekeeper, and having grown up with Carlo, he was the only man I trusted. We moved our mothers into this mansion where a small army guards them twenty-four-seven.