Page 16 of Luciano (Belles & Mobsters 1)

“I’m not sure. On one hand, I want to fight for what’s mine,” I admitted. “But on the other hand, I don’t think it is worth putting all of us in danger for it.”

If anyone understood, it was Ella. “I agree. But it bothers me to think about him getting away with so much. Look how many people he hurt.”

She was right. My uncle hurt her family, ruining them financially. All because her father refused to be part of human smuggling with him and Benito King. Yes, her father was a dirty politician, but at least he had some scruples.

I suspected my uncle had caused my parents’ death and that was barely scratching the surface. He would have killed me and Ella too, or worse. He would have sold me to satisfy my family’s long-standing tradition. God knew, the Romano family had a reputation to uphold as producing some of the best for their fucked-up arrangement.

We didn’t have any choice. We had to run away, in the dead of the night, like two thieves. It was either run or die. Ella and I weren’t strong enough to take them all down.

“We’ve been slowly chipping away at him financially,” I murmured.

“It’s not enough,” she hissed. “It won’t be enough till he-” She cut herself off, her lip trembling.

I knew she was right. If it was just me, I’d jump right in and cause havoc. I wanted to hurt my family and make them pay. But even more, I wanted Matteo safe. Just the thought of him getting anywhere close to my family rattled my bones with true terror. They wouldn’t hesitate to use my son, just to get what they want.

“I’m sorry, Grace,” she muttered. “Sometimes the thirst for revenge just chokes me, and then makes me act stupid.”

I shook my head. “You have nothing to apologize for. It is how I feel too. Especially when I think about how he almost-” The words faltered, my throat constricted. “The last thing I want is for them to take more advantage of me, but Matteo is more important to me than all that. But you did the right thing by sending a picture,” I told her. “We’ll just have to be careful not to have it traced back to here. I kind of like it here.”

“I was careful.” I knew she would be. “I like it here too, but it would be nice to have an option to visit back. You know?”

I nodded in agreement. My family was her only obstacle. We met in the boarding school, our first year of high school, but I knew about Ella and her family for months beforehand. Her father was a crooked politician that crossed paths with my uncle who made a fatal mistake in dealing with my uncle to secure a passage for his smuggling. Her father provided a state port passage, but he realized too late what it was used for. Human trafficking for Benito King. He should have asked better questions, done his homework. Instead, the idiot only saw dollar signs. When her dad started backpedaling, my uncle demanded the payment back with hefty interest. Her father didn’t have the money, so he promised his daughter. But then he started running his mouth, and my uncle killed him and his wife, brutally. The only reason I knew was because I eavesdropped on his conversation. So, he took charge of Ella - not out of pity or sorrow. He took her in to protect his investment.

Of course, it was always us women that paid the price for men’s stupidity and cruelty. We were just pawns in their stupid games. Unlike Ella, for me, even if my uncle and family that wanted me dead were eliminated; I’d still not be able to go back. Because my husband wanted me dead too.

But we refused to be victims and just take it. It was the reason I told Ella what I learned about her parents' death when we met. We bonded instantly, and we might have been young, naive girls but we wouldn’t be willing victims. We started researching and studying the men from the mafia world that did business with Benito. We refused to be sitting belles waiting for our ruin. Ella and I were stronger together.

If we only prepared for falling in love too. We wanted to bring those fucking ruthless men to their knees and make them pay, but we didn’t count on our hearts playing too.

Chapter Seven

Luciano

Everyone was staying the fuck away from me. It suited me just fine, if only I wasn’t frustrated as fuck. How hard was it to find an American woman roaming Europe with a friend? Apparently too fucking hard. Massimo, my cousin, happened to be in Italy, so I ordered him to make a stop in Germany, to find any clues about my wife. He was one of the rare people that knew her and saw her. And I trusted him not to try to fuck her.

That was two weeks ago! He went to Germany, then went back to Italy. He was due to go back to Germany again to continue. It has been two long weeks and nothing. He came up with nothing, not a single clue. Like she was a ghost.

“Luciano,” my father’s voice caught me in the hallway.

I turned around to face him. His eyes were the same shade as mine, our facial features similar too. He was in his seventies, but my father still looked strong. The death of my mother and sister hit him hard, but his will to live spiked when I got married. Grace captured him effortlessly, regardless of her lineage and her last name. He considered her Vitale the moment he met her. The day Grace and I said our vows, he claimed her as his daughter.

Despite the fact she was forced to marry me, under the threat of death, she smiled at him, offering him a hug and kiss on the cheek. Our wedding, although thrown together fast, was a real deal. Yes, I had to drag her out of her room, under threat of shooting the door down but the moment we saidI do,and our lips connected, our union was sealed. Marriages were forever in our world.

The way he beamed on the day of our wedding, proud and happy. As if all his life goals had been achieved and he could die in peace. And though Grace bickered with me, stood up to me all the time, she played the perfect daughter-in-law to my father. There was no hiding that she actually enjoyed spending time with him. They’d sit and talk for hours - about Pa’s hometown in Sicily, about plants he grew, about her friend Ella, Italian food… anything and everything. She’d play piano for him, his favorite tunes of Andrea Bocelli, Bach, Beethoven, Chopin. When I came around, she’d put her reserved walls up; not that I could blame her.

She had my father’s heart, without even trying from the start. She had good instincts, I’d give her that. Because there was nobody more I trusted than my father.

He had been my role model my entire life, taught me everything I knew. But he hasn't been happy with me lately. He hasn’t said it, but I knew it. He blamed me for losing my wife, for not having children.

“Father,” I greeted him.

“Did Massimo find your wife?” I should have known it was about her.

“Not yet.” I kept my voice cool, hiding my own frustration at the delay.

“What will you do if she doesn’t want to come back?”

I watched my old man wondering why he would care so much about her. After all, she betrayed us. Honesty, respect, and trust were the foundation of any relationship, business or personal. He taught me that.

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