Page 95 of Luciano (Belles & Mobsters 1)

“Your wife plays beautifully, Luciano,” Vasili’s wife, Isabella, whispered softly, her voice full of awe. “I’m getting goosebumps from listening to it. She’s amazing.”

Yes, she is. I had been so consumed with revenge when I married her, I never took time to get to know my wife. I kidnapped her, forced her to marry me, and then became obsessed with her.

It was a rocky start for us. But it was our start, and we’d have a future. Together.

My eyes traveled to the audience. Isabella wasn’t the only one transfixed and lost in the music. Every single pair of eyes were on my wife, soaking up the music. Except for Sophia Romano. Hers were full of hate as she watched her granddaughter.

“Raphael said Alphonso never showed up to the fundraiser.” Cassio's voice was quiet. “He might be here.”

I nodded in acknowledgement. How did I never see that my wife and I were on the same side? Was I truly that blind when it came to my beautiful, strong wife? The hate and animosity between Grace and her grandmother seeped out of both of them. Even when my wife talked about her grandmother or uncle when we first got married, there was never any love or affection in her words.

Revenge blinds you, son.My father’s words vibrated through my blood, and never a truer statement was uttered.

Grace’s fingers gracefully moved across the keys of the piano. From the short, tense interaction between her and her grandmother it was clear she loved that piano. I would get that piano for her, if it was the last thing I did in this life.

The last tune of the song ended, and it was like watching Grace wake up from a dream. Her soft, dreamy expression disappeared and turned into a guarded expression. She met her grandmother’s expression by tilting her chin up in a challenge.

The young, gentle girl I picked up at the club almost four years ago was now gone. In its place stood a strong and resilient woman that would fight the world to protect those she loved. And whether she liked it or not, I would fight right alongside her. She was my family. My life. My everything. She might not need me anymore to survive, but I needed her. And Matteo.

I have a son.From the moment the realization struck, it was hard to grasp the meaning of it all. I would spend the rest of my life making it up to my wife and son. My father was right. Grace was innocent all along.

Her uncle stepped up from the side, entering her line of vision and my wife’s shoulders barely stiffened, but she held her own.

“That will be all from-”

“I’m not done.” Grace’s eyes traveled between her grandmother and her uncle. Locking on her uncle, she remained seated. I could see on her grandmother’s face she was furious, but Grace paid her no attention. All Grace’s attention was on her uncle. The whole room was quiet, not even breathing could be heard. “This one should bring up memories, Uncle,” she spoke softly, undertone of sarcasm in her tone. “Remember how it started.”

Her fingers started dancing across the keyboard again, the tones from the piano vaguely familiar. She didn’t tear her gaze from her uncle, her expression daring him to say or do something.

“Is that “Listen to Your Heart” by Roxette?” I heard Isabella ask Vasili Nikolaev, her husband, in a hushed tone. “That’s kind of an abrupt music genre switch,” she muttered.

She was right; now that she said it, I recognized it. But what was the meaning of it? Why was Grace watching her uncle with such defiance while he stared at her like he wanted to murder her?

“That was her parents’ song,” Ella whispered. “It was the last song her mother performed before Alphonso had her parents killed.”

Shock vibrated through me, and I heard Isabella’s soft gasp. I would kill her uncle with pleasure. He should have been a dead man a long time ago.

I saw Alphonso step closer to my wife, and it took all within me not to reach for my gun. I didn’t need to look to know my friends felt the same. But Alphonso Romano, while snaking around like a dirty lizard, didn’t physically threaten. He had a sneaky smile on his pale, small face accented with black beady eyes. Sophia Romano and Alphonso Romano shared their features - thin, pale, dark hair and beady eyes. Same sneaky, backstabbing personality too. The only difference, one wore a skirt and the other wore pants.

They will both be dead before the night is over, I vowed. For the pain they caused my wife, my mother, my sister, and my father. And to protect my son.

Alphonso’s lips barely moved, but there was no mistake that he whispered something to my wife. Whatever he said had Grace’s jaw clenched, and the music stopped mid song with Grace slamming the keyboard cover down, covering the keys.

Every single pair of eyes in the room were on them with anticipation. The air stilled, hushed gasps echoed, and the room fell silent. It was a grim kind of silence that led to a moment that would mark a catastrophe, like pulling out my gun and shooting that fucker Alphonso clear across the room and starting a full-blown war.

Grace stood up from the piano stiffly, her eyes never wavering from her grandmother and uncle. While the latter two kept artificial smiles on their faces, Grace’s expression was stoic. She wouldn’t give them the pleasure of faking anything. My wife has grown a spine and spread her wings.

She neared her grandmother and spoke into the microphone, her eyes locked on the man and woman that should have protected her but instead sold her out.

“Thank you for letting me play for you.” Grace’s soft voice boomed through the microphone. “My grandmother decided generously to have my mother’s piano transported to my husband’s place instead of burning it to ashes.” She paused, letting the meaning sink in. “Isn’t that wonderful? We should give a round of applause.”

Grace’s voice dripped with sarcasm, but the audience either ignored it or didn’t pick up on it.

“I really like your wife,” Vasili Nikolaev deadpanned.

“Oh, this is nothing. You should see her hit list.” Cassio chuckled, half-serious and half-joking. “I believe Alphonso and Sophia Romano along with the King family are at the top of that list.”

“Smart woman,” Nico chimed in, and I could hear a smile in his voice.

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