God Of Vengeance (Kings Of Mafia)

Even though I went to bed late, I wake up before my alarm. I press the button to open the curtains, and climbing out of bed, I adjust the bathrobe I’m wearing while walking to the windows.

“Dio,” I whisper when I see the breathtaking view of the sun rising over the lake.

Noticing a balcony, I find the door and unlock it. When I push it open, a cold breeze sweeps over me. I step onto the balcony, drinking in the exquisite sight of the tall trees on either side of the vast backyard.

It’s the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen.

I take a seat on one of the wrought-iron chairs by a small round table and pull my legs up so I can cover my feet with the bathrobe.

Crap, it’s much colder here than in Palermo.

I don’t think my clothes are warm enough for the snowy winters New York experiences.

Staring at the scenic nature and the guards scattered over the property, I suck in a deep breath as I try to gather my thoughts.

Everything that’s happened over the past twenty-four hours fills my mind, and I’m once again left worrying about my uncertain future.

Hopefully, Carlo will give me some answers today.

I hear someone knocking, but they don’t wait for me to answer, and instead, they try to open the door.

I dart off the chair and rush to unlock the door. When I open it, I’m met with several guards who carry my belongings inside, dropping everything in front of the bed.

Not bothering to acknowledge me, they immediately leave again.

I shut the door behind them, relieved to have my belongings.

“I’ll get dressed before unpacking,” I whisper to myself.

Should I unpack?

I have no idea how long I’ll stay here.

I’ll ask Carlo when I see him.

With my parents not here to control what I wear, I search through the bags until I find a matching set of lace underwear and one of my warmer outfits.

The stylish pant legs flare around my legs, and I match them with a cashmere sweater that fits like a second skin.

After getting dressed, I slip my feet into a pair of cream heels before searching through the bags for my makeup supplies. A smile stretches over my face when I also manage to find my hair and skin care products.

I let out a sigh of relief when I see none of the products were damaged when the guards packed them.

Thank God for small mercies.

Heading to the bathroom, I brush my hair and teeth before going through my skincare routine.

Feeling much better, I take a seat at the dressing table and carefully apply my makeup.

Once I’m happy with the final result, I straighten the covers on my bed and search for my phone charger. Just as I plug the device in, there’s another knock at the door.

I quickly open, and when I see Carlo, I feel relieved that I don’t have to wait any longer.

Smiling politely, I say, “Morning.”

He just nods at me then gestures down the hallway. “It’s time for breakfast.”

I step out of the bedroom and shut the door.

We start to walk, and I shoot him a cautious glance. “Can I ask questions?”

“Yes.”

“How long will I stay here?”

“Until Damiano decides otherwise,” he mutters.

Feeling brave, I ask, “Do you know what he plans to do with me?”

“You’ll find out soon.”

Not liking the answer, I frown at Carlo.

“Can I use the Wifi?”

“I’ll get you the password.”

Gazie a Dio.

“Am I allowed to leave my bedroom?”

“Yes.” We stop at the top of the stairs, and Carlo locks eyes with me. “Stay away from Damiano’s suite and office. You’re not allowed to leave the property without permission.”

I nod quickly. “Okay.”

We head down the stairs, then Carlo mentions, “There is an elevator if you get tired of the stairs.”

I nod, and sucking in a deep breath, I ask, “Am I allowed to help myself to food?”

“Yes. I’ll show you where the kitchen is.”

When we reach the first floor, Carlo says, “You’ll meet Damiano’s mother and mine. Mrs. Falco is blind. You’re not to mention anything about her disability.”

“Okay.”

We walk into a state-of-the-art kitchen, and Carlo takes a few minutes to show me where everything is. I actually start to relax around the man.

A woman dressed in a black and white uniform comes into the kitchen with an empty tray in her hands.

“Martha,” Carlo says. “This is Miss di Bella. She’ll be visiting us for a while.”

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” she says politely.

“You too,” I murmur. When we leave the kitchen, I glance up at Carlo. “Thank you for answering my questions.”

“You’re not a prisoner. Just don’t cause any trouble, and you’ll be fine.”

His words ease more of the anxiety that’s been tightening my stomach.

Maybe things won’t be as bad as I thought.

When we enter an elegant dining room, my eyes jump from the two women who seem to be in their early or mid-fifties to Damiano. They’re already seated at the table.

My gaze darts back to the woman sitting to Damiano’s left, and I can’t help but notice how beautiful she is.

Now I know where Damiano got his good looks from.

Damiano is sitting at the head of the table, busy cutting strips of bacon into smaller pieces.

Pushing the plate in front of his mother, he says, “Clockwise, the bacon is at three and the pancakes at nine.”

She holds her hand palm up and when he places his hand in hers, she kisses his fingers, then asks, “How was the trip? Are Cettina and Stefano well?”

Carlo holds a chair out for me, and I take a seat across from Mrs. Accardi while Carlo sits down to Damiano’s right.

As Damiano pulls his hand free from his mother’s, his eyes flick to me. “We have a guest.”

“Oh?” Mrs. Falco’s eyebrow pops up while Mrs. Accardi gives me a curious look.

“I didn’t give my permission for Stefano to marry Gabriella. Instead, I brought her to New York. She’ll stay with us for a while.”

My lips curve up in a smile as I glance between the two women. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Welcome,” Mrs. Accardi says.

It feels as if she’s inspecting every inch of me.

Mrs. Falco only nods in my direction before turning her attention back to her son. “What did Stefano have to say about the matter?”

“Of course, he’s not happy,” Damiano mutters while cutting a piece off his pancakes. “I didn’t see Cettina, but I’m sure she’s well.”

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Falco sighs. “I’ll have to call my sister-in-law and smooth things over.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Damiano orders.

Martha brings two plates of food and sets them down in front of Carlo and me.

Between bites, Mrs. Falco asks, “Why didn’t you give your blessing?”

“I have other plans for Gabriella,” he mutters, clearly annoyed by the conversation.

I focus my attention on the plate in front of me and begin to eat. Martha leans down beside me and softly asks, “Would you like juice, coffee, or tea?”

I give the housekeeper a warm smile. “Coffee, please.” When she pours me a cup of steaming caffeine, I murmur, “Thank you.”

“You look very young. How old are you, Gabriella?” Mrs. Accardi asks.

I keep my tone respectful as I answer, “I’m twenty-three.”

Mrs. Falco turns her face in my direction, her eyes staring blankly ahead. “We’ll get to know each other better after breakfast.”

My eyes dart between Damiano and his mother before I reply, “I’d like that.”

While I eat, Mrs. Falco asks Damiano, “Will you be home for a while?”

“I’ll be between Manhattan and the mansion for the next few weeks,” he answers before wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin. Climbing to his feet, he says, “Have a good day, Mamma.”

He leans over and presses a kiss to the top of her head before leaving the dining room.

Most of the tension in the room leaves with Damiano, and my shoulders relax a little.

A guard steps into the dining room, taking a seat next to Mrs. Accardi. His eyes flick between Carlo and me.

“This is Gabriella di Bella. She’ll stay with us for a while,” Carlo tells him. He gestures at the guard, then explains, “Gerardo oversees the mansion’s security. He’s Mrs. Falco and my mother’s guard.”

“Welcome,” he says before his attention is drawn to Martha as she brings him his breakfast.

“Nice to meet you,” I murmur.

“Gerardo, give Gabriella the Wifi password,” Carlo orders as he climbs to his feet.

Mrs. Accardi also gets up from her seat and follows her son out of the dining room.

When I’m done eating, I’m not sure whether I should wait until everyone’s finished or whether I can leave.

I glance at Gerardo and Mrs. Falco, and when she pushes her chair back, she says, “Gabriella, join me in my sitting room.”

I dart to my feet, and unsure if I should assist her, my stomach fills with knots as I follow her.

I’m surprised when she walks down the hallway to a sitting room where the sun is streaming in through the windows.

She takes a seat, and with her head held high, she glances in my direction. “Please, sit.”

I pick a chair opposite her and perch my butt on the edge, my hands folded on my lap.

“Don’t be nervous,” she says.

I almost nod but instead murmur, “Okay.”

“Have you visited the States before?” she asks.

“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.