Page 29 of Divine Obsession

Maybe it was fear or panic, but once I started talking, I couldn’t stop. “They own majority of hotels and restaurants in New York. And most of America. They made their wealth in the 1920s. They’re a respectable family with powerful ties–”

“Respectable families don’t have murder attempts in their own homes.”

“They’re stupid rich. Homes get broken into and robbed all the time–”

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes, telling me to stop talking.

I crossed my arms, taking comfort in the shadows; glad he couldn’t see the tremble in my chin. “I still have no idea who you are.”

“Salvatore didn’t mention you were in the dark.” He moved back to the island stool, muttering to himself, “I bet the motherfucker prayed this would happen. Should’ve known he wouldn’t have the balls to do it himself.”

“Hey.” My warning sliced through the air. Despite the fear sneaking its way through my veins, my territorial side rose to the surface. No one spoke like that about my family.

The man slid his gaze back to me, something glinting in his eyes.

“My name is Gìovanni DeMone,” He spoke, after a long time, moving towards the wooden display of alcohol bottles on the wall. Picking an old wine, he used a cork to pop it open before pouring two glasses. He extended one towards me. “Natalia, have you ever heard of something called the Mafia?”

I ended up having the first drink of my life that night.

We shared a bottle of red in the darkness of the kitchen. I stitched up his stab wound using a sewing kit. All while he told me the truth about our families.

This thing of ours.

Cosa Nostra.

La Famiglia.

I stared at the grey blanket covering my bedroom’s grand windows. Fog surrounded the ninetieth-something floor of Moretti Enterprises, placing the extravagant penthouse in the clouds.

Turning on my other side, I pulled the covers over my head and closed my eyes.

Pain hammered in my temples, urging me to get up and drink a strong coffee or one of my green smoothies. My stomach turned, threatening to empty anything left in it.

A shudder worked its way through my body, icing the blood in my veins, when I remembered Gìo’s words from the previous night.

After sewing his wound shut, we got shit-faced drunk. Well,Idid. He was six years older than me and about six-foot-four, so logically a heavyweight.

Gìo helped me get to my room. He even held my hair back while I vomited in the toilet, and then helped me get in bed, before leaving to return to dad’s meeting.

When I asked if it was really aCosa Nostrameeting, he didn’t answer; only told me to go to sleep.

I was still in my clothes from yesterday, the tight jeans making me uncomfortable. I’d been too drunk to change last night, and now, I just couldn’t get out of bed.

Everything was still weighing heavily on me. Starting at Columbia, running into Trevor, sitting next to him in class, going to that party, running into Trevor again, getting way too close to him in the kitchen…

Then, of course, getting home.

I was still in shock. To say I was overwhelmed, was an understatement.

But most of all? I felt betrayed.

No one had told me. They’d left me to walk around like a fool.

I’d been playing house with the Morettis for two months, and friends with Kali for six.

Kali.

Suddenly her words made a lot more sense.

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