Page 18 of Bellini Born
And what kind of host would I be if I kept her waiting?
Chapter 5
Summer
“Whenwereyouplanningon telling me you had to rescue and resuscitate a kid at that birthday party last week?”
Gabi’s pissed-off tone had me grimacing.
Slowly, I turned around to face my best friend and roommate. “I didn’t want you to freak out, okay?”
She huffed, placing a hand to her forehead. “Freak out? Why on earth do you think I might freak out?” There was a pause before she shouted, “Oh, I know! Because it wasmynameyou gave at the door! And it wasmy fatherwho got a call when shit hit the fan!”
Okay, maybe she had a point.
“Look, I’m sorry. I just figured since everything worked out fine in the end, it didn’t bear mentioning.” That, and I was hoping to avoid a moment such as this.
“Summer . . .” Gabi drew my name out so slowly it gave me pause.
For some reason, an icy tendril of dread rolled down my spine. “Yeah?”
Letting out a deep exhale, she begged, “Please, please,pleasetell me my father heard wrong, and you didn’t go off on Matteo Bellini.”
“Uh, I don’t know who that is, but I sure gave that little girl’s father a piece of my mind. The man’s daughter could have died, and it would have been due to his own negligence.”
“Oh my God.” She reached blindly for the couch before collapsing onto it. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
I eyed her reaction quizzically. “Clearly not, so why don’t you fill me in?”
A flicker of fear flashed in her eyes. Swallowing, Gabi explained, “He’s the head of the Bellini Family.”
Gabi’s mom’s maiden name was Bellini. When she’d told me that early in our friendship, it stuck with me because I thought it was kinda cool to carry a name after a fun, fruity cocktail.
But what she was saying didn’t make sense. When I thought of the head of a family, I imagined a patriarch, the most senior male, like a grandfather. But the man I’d chewed out over his lack of pool safety was definitely not old enough to be anyone’s grandpa. He couldn’t have been more than thirty, looking hot as shit in that designer suit that was totally out of place at a child’s birthday party.
When I remained silent, she elaborated, “It’s a crime family, Summer.”
My mouth dropped open. “You mean, like the mafia?”
“Notlikethe mafia. Theyarethe mafia. At least the one running Chicago.”
A disbelieving exhale flew past my lips. “Your family is mafia? And you’re just telling me now?”
Gabi rolled her eyes. “It’s not like we go out of our way to broadcast it. Loose lips sink ships and all that jazz.”
My mind raced as I tried to process this information. “So, your parents are criminals?”
She sighed. “My mom was born into it, and it’s not exactly like they let the women get their hands dirty. They’re taught to look pretty and marry whom their fathers tell them. It’s all about keeping power within a tight-knit group.” The tiniest hint of a smile crept onto her lips. “Dad joined up as a teenager. He was a foot soldier who caught a lucky break when my mom fell in love with him, and their marriage came with a hefty promotion. My nonno couldn’t be seen to have his daughter married to a low-level grunt.”
The room began to spin, so I dropped onto the closest kitchen chair. Dropping my head between my knees, I focused on dragging in deep breaths so I didn’t pass out.
When I recovered enough that the darkness creeping into the edges of my vision receded, I said, “Let me get this straight. The mafia is a real thing, and your family’s involved?”
“Yes.” Gabi nodded.
“And that birthday party I lifeguarded for was a mafia birthday party?”
“Right again,” she confirmed.
