Page 93 of Luciano (Belles & Mobsters 1)

“I see you are still hanging out with the riff raff.” Her eyes traveled over Luciano and his friends and ended with Ella. Her lips pursed at the sight of my best friend. “I thought you left your husband, my little Belle.”

Don’t let her taunt you. Don’t let her taunt you.The words played on repeat in my brain.

She purposely called me that, reminding me that was my only worth to the Romano legacy. Well, I didn’t give a fuck about the Romano legacy.

A hard gleam entered her eyes. She was hoping to get Luciano worked up. He kept his calm, although I felt more than saw him stiffen.

Never looking his way, I answered. “No. Someone must have given you the wrong information about my marriage status. I kind of like being riff raff, so only appropriate I hang out with them. Don’t you think so, Grandmother?”

I wasn’t a little girl anymore. I wouldn’t take her mental beating, nor my uncle’s physical abuse.

She smiled, although it didn’t reach her eyes. “Will you play for us today, dear?”

“No, I-”

“Your mother’s piano is here,” she cut me off as if I hadn't spoken. “Tonight will be your last chance. We are getting rid of it.”

I blinked in confusion. “But why? It was in Mom’s family for centuries.”

“It has no purpose here.” We locked gazes, her dark black eyes staring me down, challenging me. Unlike my uncle who didn’t mind physical punishment, my grandmother preferred mental torture.

“I’ll take it.” The words escaped me before I thought better of them. She liked to take away everything I cared for or loved. Now that I expressed that I wanted it, she’d rather burn it to the ground than let me have it.

“You were always so sentimental, Grace,” she mocked me. “It will be your downfall. That piano is worthless. Just like your little family.”

Unspoken threat. Unspoken humiliation.

I took a step forward, when I felt Ella’s hand wrap around my upper arm. I envisioned myself wrapping my fingers around her neck and choking her to death. I wanted to kill that mean, old witch. The only thing she was good at was bringing misery to people.

Before I could think of a comeback, my husband stepped in.

“You watch yourself, Sophia Romano,” Luciano got in her face, a menacing and ruthless mobster in full mode. “My wife might keep things civil for your party, but I won’t have any qualms about ripping out your throat and seeing you choke on your own blood among your guests.”

My grandmother didn’t even bat an eyelash, but I did see her guards near her. Of course, she wasn’t scared when she never fought her own battles.

“The piano is worthless,” she continued, as if Luciano never spoke. “You don’t have a daughter and won’t have a chance to spawn another child.”

Luciano growled next to me, but I put my hand on his bicep, squeezing lightly.

“Truthfully, it belongs to me, Grandmother,” I spoke, seemingly calm although every ounce of blood inside me boiled with fury. The interruption was welcome because it diverted her attention from Luciano to me. “After all, my parents left it all to me. Didn’t they?”

“To be turned over to you on your twenty-fifth birthday.”

“Or when I got married.” My lips curved into a fake smile. “And I am married.” I glanced sideways at my husband. “Aren’t I, darling?”

“We sure are married, Tesoro.” Luciano smirked at my grandmother, his eyes shooting all kinds of menace her way.

“Go play one of those vulgar songs you like so much,” she continued as she strode away, ignoring both of us. “Say goodbye to your mother’s legacy. The last heirloom and generation of the Astor family will soon be gone in ashes.”

I dug my fingernails into the palm of my hand, focusing on the pain to ground me. She wouldn’t win. My uncle wouldn’t win. The Astor legacy would never burn into ashes. Because Matteo was part of me too.

I turned my head towards my husband, locking eyes with Luciano. “Call your father and tell him not to leave the house with Matteo,” I spoke low, my voice shaking.

Without another word, I walked away from the group, my back stiff as I heard my grandmother make the announcement. I could feel his eyes, staring at me even with my back to him. Oddly enough, it was comforting to know that my husband was here. It gave me the extra courage I needed.

“Everyone, thank you so much for coming,” she greeted the audience. “Grace Romano will be playing a piece for us tonight. I am sure many of you have heard of her world famous mother, Aria Astor, who captured the world with her voice as well as took my firstborn's heart.”

There was a double meaning to all her words. The blame she placed on my mother when in fact it was her own actions that cost her the firstborn. She lost her own son, nobody else did it for her.

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