Page 62 of Gorgeous Villain (Marchetti Mafia)

I frown. “Literally everyone does.”

“You’re notliterally everyone,” Benny says. “You’re Cristian Marchetti’s daughter. That changes shit.”

Before my father has a chance to add his input, his phone rings.

He pulls it from his pocket, stands from his chair, and checks the caller. “I need to take this.” He points his phone in mydirection. “Be smart, Gigi. Or you’ll have ten bodyguardsup your ass.”

I shift in my chair to look at him. “What about me going back to Italy?”

“Done.” He peers at the ringing phone. “Pack your bags.”

“You suck,” I whine to Natalia over the phone. “We need one last shopping trip before I leave.”

“Trust me, I’d love to shop, but I have to work,” she replies. “My boss is already pissed and on the verge of firing me because Vinny won’t stop coming to the gallery, causing problems.”

“You know what my answer to that problem always is.”

She sighs. “I plan to break things off. I just need to figure out how.”

As much as I want to talk to Antonio about it again, the last time didn’t go too well. If Natalia’s life is at stake, I won’t hesitate to involve Benny or my father though.

“I have to go,” she says with a groan. “Have fun in Italy, and make sure to text, call, and FaceTime.”

“You know I will.”

After showering, I towel-dry my hair while moving from my en suite bathroom to my bedroom.

Soft, warm light spills from my nightstand lamp, casting a gentle glow in the room. I climb into bed and lounge with my back against the headboard.

The ambiance of my bedroom always relaxes me. The shag rug, pillow-soft bedding, and dark purple color scheme provide comfort while the hand-crafted Italian furniture and sparkling chandelier above me add a touch of luxury.

I turn my TV on to drown out my voice from my bedroom before calling Antonio.

“I’m leaving for Italy tomorrow,” I tell him when he answers.

“For how long?”

“I haven’t booked a return flight yet.” I prop the phone between my ear and shoulder while freeing my hair from the towel. “It depends on how long it takes you to get there.”

The line falls quiet for a moment.

“It might take me a few weeks.”

I frown, and this time, it’s my silence.

“My situation is more complicated,” he says, as if reading my mind. “Traveling across the world is harder for me.”

I nod and twirl a strand of wet hair between my fingers. As someone unemployed with no responsibilities, it’s easy for me to leave anytime I want. It isn’t the same for Cosa Nostra men. My father and Benny only travel when it’s business-related. Vacations aren’t in the cards for them.

“I know.” I blow out a breath and comb my fingers through my hair. “It just sucks.”

He grows quiet again, and there’s an audible commotion in the background.

“Where are you?” I ask.

He seems taken aback by my sudden question. “Sitting in my car.”

Antonio always talks to me at night, in his car, so that isn’t unusual.

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