Page 23 of Luciano (Belles & Mobsters 1)

“Shhh.”

Bitterness swelled inside me. Now, we had to uproot Matteo and start a whole new life. I loved our life on this little island with people that acted like family.

“We need to get to Palermo International Airport. All our emergency travel documents and travel bags are kept there.” She knew that too. Thankfully, we could access our money from anywhere in the world. We wouldn’t go hungry without money, food or a way to afford a shelter. Right now, we just had to get out of here.

Ella nodded. It tore at my insides to drag us to another start. “Ella, are you sure you want to come along? You’ll be safer if you stay behind.”

“No.” Her answer was firm, the determination written all over her face. “We stick together. We do this together.”

I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she wanted to stay behind, but it felt good having her by my side.

“Thank you,” I muttered. She had been more than a family for as long as we’ve known each other.

We stood on the deck of the ferry, watching the island that was our home for the past year get smaller and smaller. This place has been our longest residency since we left the States. The wind swept through the upper deck, blowing our hair wildly and along with it our little happy life.

“Do you think this will work?” Ella kept glancing around. She was scared just as much as I was. If Luciano dragged us back home, we’d be doomed. We escaped our fates once, I wasn’t sure if we’d succeed again.

Despite my worries, I nodded in answer, words stuck in my throat. It had to work.

Chapter Nine

Luciano

Ihad to admire my wife’s resourcefulness. I couldn’t remember the last time someone slipped through my fingers and got this far. Oh wait, yes, I could. It was my wife then too! The last time she disappeared, her family smuggled her out of the country without a trace. She vanished right out from under my nose.

I had to get my connection in the police to get me off the island and have them follow her discreetly from the moment she stepped foot off that ferry. One thing Grace didn’t know was that I had connections to pretty much all the authorities in Sicily. I watched her with passport in hand and a carry-on bag, her son in her arms. Her friend had a carry-on bag too. I was curious to know where they kept their stuff since they never went back to their house. I couldn’t help but be a little impressed. My wife was prepared in the event I ever found her. She had come a long way from being my naive, trusting wife.

However, I wouldn’t repeat the mistake and let her slip through my fingers. If I have to chain her to me, I would. Or even better, maybe her son. Because I knew without a doubt, she would never leave without him. He would be my leverage.

“Your plane is ready, Mr. Vitale.”

“Good.” I headed towards my wife, with Massimo and Mario, one of my local bodyguards, and two police officers. She was ready to board a plane for South Africa.

Fucking South Africa!

What did she think she’d do in South Africa?

Yeah, never gonna happen.

I strode towards her, coming up right behind her. Even now, I admired her graceful back as she held her son in her arms.

“Going somewhere, wife?” I asked her, in a mocking tone, towering right behind her.

She jumped, a startled whimper leaving her mouth. She turned around to face me, her son wrapped in her arms watching back and forth between his mother and me. I watched her face pale a few shades again, her eyes filled with terror and surprise. It seemed to be her only response to me. She feared me, as she should.

I should have felt regret, sorrow, but I didn’t. I felt nothing but satisfaction that I got her. She was going to fucking leave me, like dust, behind her. Without a backward glance. Now that I had her, she wouldn’t have a chance to escape. She’d be under my clutches till I was done with her.

“My plane is ready,” I told her, my voice cold and unwavering. “You will be boarding with us.”

“No.” That was twice in a day she refused me.

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I’ll make a scene,” she threatened, her eyes darting around the airport.

“You can, but it won’t matter,” I warned her. “The police here work for me. Make a scene, and I’ll throw you over my shoulder then carry you into my plane. Or even better, I’ll take your kid and leave you behind.”

She knew I was serious. I wasn’t in the habit of making empty threats.

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