Union Of Death (Secrets of The Famiglia Part 2)

“It’s like we stepped foot into another dimension it is so cold.” Two men in black pants and jackets walk over toward us, and
begin unlocking the gates. I am surprised the gates don’t open automatically like his father's place.
“It seems the owner over the house wishes to maintain the house in its full ancient theme. Which apparently includes lack of
better security.” I say earning me Filippo’s first laugh since he got into the car.
“Everything here is donkey years old. Except there is excellent cell service. This place belonged to the DeMarco’s for nearly 4
Centuries. Marco inherited it when his mother passed.”
“His mother is a DeMarco?” This is news to me, I always thought they were Nicole’s children. If Marco is a DeMarco, that means
Gabriel is related to Marco.
Marco, Marco, Marco. The word runs through my head. His name is a reminder of who he is. Question is, was the reminder a
curse or a blessing? I’m going to go with the latter. Maybe joining this weekend away is not such a bad idea after all. There is a
lot of things one can learn when the answers are close by.
“Not all the Catelli siblings belong to Nicole. Let’s keep this one between us.” I nod just as the gates part ways for us and Guilia
rustles at the back, sensing our arrival.
“It feels like I’ve stepped into another time,” Guilia utters as she yawns and most probably stretches her long lithe body. The
space at the back is a bit cramped with the paint supplies I carried just in case the mood struck me.
“Did you enjoy the nap?” I ask as I drive into the yard surrounded by an open manicured garden.
I can't see the house nicely from this far. But I do take note of the overly on top art piece that is the entry of the greenery. It is
crafted in ivory, two lions intertwined in a battle of wills.
I try to zoom in on the statue but can't really get a good inspection on the piece which is the one grandeur of the garden.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. And I also want to say sorry for behaving like a brat.”
“I am cool with it,” I say as Filippo ignores her apology. I wonder what she said to piss him off this bad?
My nerves are not helping my inquisitive self either. They are currently on strike for working too hard these last few hours. They
are demanding release. The crisp clean air penetrates my senses as I pay all my attention to the healthy evergreen grass and
hedgehog trees.

Further away resembles the plot of a dead ground for the ghost of Carnival street, haunted in a grey fog, still in the promise of
the winter chill.
I welcome the crisp of the air, a thrilling flare as each inhale is felt deep within me.
There were a few rumors regarding this Manor. Most of it farfetched besides the one tale I think has some truth to it. Marco
Catelli had a graveyard in his backyard. Of that, I am almost 99% certain.
"We're here!” I say as the car stops under the big dome-like parking space. To my right is the entrance, which is open to two
doors that I'm sure is akin to the gateway of Buckingham palace.
"Yup, we have arrived. This place is a tidbit creepy," Guilia makes a shivering sound. I turn off the car’s engine and see
perpendicular to me is a familiar face. Xander Moretti
He must have a strong sense because he looks at me right through the partially tinted window and his eyes say nothing. The last
time I saw him was the night Ren and Matteo killed a Russo.
“I think it’s perfect,” I whisper the words, not sure if they can hear me but not caring either.
Matteo shows himself as he opens my door and the smell of his vape hits my nose. The strong vanilla scent catches in my throat
as he blows the smoke.
“'Why do you smoke that, it’s disgusting.”
“It’s a quality-adjusted lifestyle, don’t knock it until you've tried it,” Matteo says as he slips the device into his coat pocket. My
eyes betray me as they go back to Xander who is dressed in denim pants and a ski jacket. He has no gloves on his hands but if
he is cold, he doesn’t show it.
“You crushing on Xander? Good luck, the guy is Marco’s first command,” Matteo says as my brother and sister hops out of the
car.
“Maybe you should wipe your face Matteo, it seems to be full of jealousy,” Guilia adds walking past us, she touches Matteo on
the shoulder and winks at me.
“And I wondered if you were into hot sexy men, good taste,” I tease with a wink of my own as he has the nerve to roll his eyes
and smirk.

I don’t stand a moment longer in the presence of Matteo.
My sister beats my brother and myself to the door where the owner stands, in his dark slacks and grey Jersey. His smile is as
false as his personality. My stomach knots as my heart picks up speed with every inch closer I get to him.
Why does Marco have to own the place and not Deno? Because karma likes to fuck me over.
He doesn’t look at me and I am thankful for that small reprieve to reprimand my traitorous body into not humiliating me as it did
the last time I had to look into the man's face. My body must remain faithful to my sanity and not let me down like that day where
he broke me down and left me without a backward glance.
The thoughts come as a needed shield and I am grateful for them, and also for the hardness, it has caused around my heart
since this man I now stop in front of, showed me the meaning of the word, heartbreak.
His face breaks out into a grin, as his eyes dip to my bared legs, encased in a sued 4-inch-high, black ankle boot, that kept my
feet warm but gave me a bit of added height. His eyes hold my own in a second, and my heart beats in fear, making me feel like I
am the one doing wrong when he is the one standing too close, staring too long.
His rigid body betrays his unaffected stance as he drops his mindless attention to the winter pencil dress, that hugs my body,
hinting at my curves.
And like our first meeting, altercation, his outstretched hand is waiting, extended, facing me. Idling.
“Hello, Mr. Catelli.” I wrap my hand around his for less than a second, because unlike the last time he touched me, I am the only
one being burned. So why should I suffer?
My inner strength does not defy my internal order when I look behind him, dismissing him as if all he deserves is a few seconds
of my time. And I should take pride in how excellent of an actor I am. Of how I, a woman am able to convince Marco Catelli of all
men that I am unaffected by his presence.
I walk away toward the inner part of the house and a familiar voice strikes me to a standstill as my ears perk when I hear a small
voice following.
“Gabriel,” I yell not caring whose house I’m in.

“Aly Cat, where art thou.” I walk toward the sound coming from my right. The angelic art on the ceilings talk of medieval gods and
demons entangled in a battle of wills. Much like the lion statue outside. Golden beams surround the art, like a caged world all
poured into one place. It is breathtakingly exquisite and reminds me of Leonardo Da Vinci’s painting, The Battle of Anghiari.
I walk through a less grandeur scene as I step into the widespread kitchen. Gabriel’s smile warms me up as I am encompassed
in his tall familiar arms.
“You look way too grown up, Aly Cat, is it your sister’s wedding dinner or yours?”
I laugh and open my mouth to say something when a tall woman in a white pencil skirt and red blouse walks toward us.
“Hi, you must be Aliyana,” She is staring at me and although it is our first time officially meeting it isn’t her first time laying those
eyes on me.
“In the flesh.”