Gia

Crossing over the Benjamin Franklin Bridge, I held the wheel, my fingers wrapping around the leather like a vise. The latest beef with Enzo had me unraveled. I feared for Angelo’s life. I didn’t know enough about his business to understand the full extent of the damage. All he’d told me was that it was bad, the fallout devastating, and placed me under twenty-four seven surveillance. He said not to trust anyone. I never did so that was easy. The only people I trusted were my father, Angelo, and Sonny.

In the midst of the drama, Angelo Sr. had summoned my father and me to the Morelli house in South New Jersey for dinner to celebrate our upcoming nuptials. With a few hours’ notice, he’d called on a Sunday, of all days, to schedule a time and place to speak about the wedding. I was afraid if I took too long to pick a date that Angelo would be six feet under. Our future was uncertain. Nothing about our lifestyle was safe.

“Are you okay with all of this?” I asked my dad, who was staring out of the window deep in thought.

He turned to look at me, scratching the dark stubble on his chin. “I knew this day was coming since you were a kid.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Daddy. Are you okay with me marrying Angelo?”

“I gave you my blessing.”

“But you would rather we pulled away from the Morellis, and I married someone else. Right?”

“I won’t lie to you, sweetie. I would have chosen someone other than Angelo for you to marry. At one time, I honestly believed his father would let him go to college and stay out of the family business.”

“So did I,” I confessed. “I was so sure Angelo Sr. would change his mind.”

“I should have known better.” My dad’s face scrunched in anger. “In all our years of friendship, he never went back on his word. He gave Angelo a way to be with you and still be part of the family business. I guess you should be lucky you had Angelo with you at school for the past seven years. If Angelo Sr. had it his way, he would’ve pulled Angelo from high school and had him doing his bidding long before now.”

“Angelo started working for his dad in high school. They were small jobs, but still, he was always in some way invested in their business.”

“Be smart,” he said. “Be careful. I already lost your mother over this turf war. I will not lose you, too.”

“You won’t. Angelo will take care of me.”

We still had no clue who had set the car bomb that killed my mom. Angelo tried to find the person responsible. Every trail led him right back to Enzo, who they still couldn’t find. He’d gone into hiding along with what was left of his crew. When some of them were dumb enough to resurface, Angelo or one of his family members killed them and made a spectacle of their deaths.

Following the directions from the GPS, I drove for a while until I pulled up to a tall wrought iron gate concealing a massive Italian villa-style mansion. A large M swooped through the middle of the fence. The high shrubbery surrounding the perimeter made it difficult to see up the long driveway. Angelo’s father bought the estate when we were mid-way through college and moved the entire family. It was for their safety. The Morelli compound was one of the safest places in the country.

I leaned out the window and pushed the button on the intercom. “Lorenzo and Gianna Carlini. We’re here for dinner.”

With my hand out the window, I waited until I heard a buzz, and the gate slowly moved inward. We drove onto the property lined with red chestnut trees, and a Tuscan-style house spanned the massive lot. A four-car garage was to my left, private verandas were on the upper floors, and the grand entrance was on my right. Several expensive cars were spaced along the multicolored pavers.

I parked at the front door, and two men come up to each side to help us out of the car. Two more men in dark suits were waiting at the main door, one of them holding it open for us as we walked into the house. The interior of the home was incredible. Words couldn’t begin to describe its beauty. Various shades of yellow, brown, and white, combined with rounded archways, high ceilings, and terra-cotta tiles, gave the house the feel of Italy. The attention to detail showed in the artwork and the careful placement of each piece.

Another man led us down the long hallway and into a room that boasted a large dining table. At least thirty people could sit comfortably, and by the looks of it, close to that were there waiting for our arrival.

He cleared his throat to announce our presence, and the laughter and chatter died down. Angelo’s brothers sat to the left of his father at the head of the table with Angelo on his right.

Angelo, as always, looked impeccable in a dark suit, with his wavy black hair styled, some of it brushing along his forehead. All of the men in his family looked like the Don and were incredibly attractive. But Angelo, with his big blue eyes which popped against his olive skin, was beyond words.

Surrounding the Don, like courtiers waiting to kiss the ring, were Paulie and a few dark-haired men who I knew from holidays and family functions. They were Made men, soldiers in Angelo Sr.’s army. His people loved him, unlike his predecessor, Joe “Scags” Scaglione, who the Don had forced out of the organization when we were kids.

Over the years, my dad had told me a few stories about the Mafia wars that had occurred before Angelo Sr. took over as the head of the Philadelphia crime family. He’d mentioned their beef with the Irish had started over drug trafficking which had settled down once he worked out their issues. Despite his need for revenge, the Don was a good boss, a good businessman.

Among Angelo’s brothers were cousins from his father’s side of the family. Closest to me, a few of Angelo’s aunts rose to their feet and kissed each of my cheeks. Their husbands and children greeted me in the same fashion. It was hard to keep track of everyone with all the hugging and kissing I did by the time I reached the end of the table.

Angelo got up from his seat next to his father and laced his fingers through my hair. Holding the side of my head, he whispered in my ear, his breath warming my face, “You look beautiful, Gia.”

I smiled. “And you look handsome. In a bad boy rough-around-the-edges kind of way.”

He laughed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his sexy mouth. I wanted to taste him. Our lips were so close I struggled with not kissing him in front of everyone.

I glanced over at Ma, who was coming out of the kitchen with a smile and a baking dish in her hands. She waved to us once she set the dish on the table and welcomed us into her home, speaking to us in Italian.

Mr. Morelli, the Don himself, stood when he saw us and stepped out from the table. Despite the aura that surrounded a Mafia boss, he was quite pleasant even though I could tell there was a quiet storm behind those deep brown eyes.

He took me in his arms, embraced me, and kissed each of my cheeks. I wasn’t a fan of Angelo Sr., but I could tolerate my soon-to-be father-in-law. As he released me, I glanced over at his brothers who were now standing next to him.

“Hey, Gia,” Marco said to me. He had his black hair gelled into short spikes that looked cute on him. When he hugged me, Marco smelled spicy and manly. He was the nicest of Angelo’s older brothers.

Pete was a downright asshole. I cringed when I had to greet Pete in the same fashion as the rest of his family. Knowing how sick and twisted he was made my skin crawl.

Don Morelli clamped a hand down on my dad’s shoulder, pulling him close. They spoke in hushed tones I couldn’t make out. My family had shared meals with the Morellis more times than I could count. I grew up sitting next to Made men. We were even at their house when a few of their guys were arrested. Whether I liked it or not, these people were my family.

Angelo steered me toward my chair, and Sonny was there to pull it out for me to sit. Angelo held my hand on his lap until dinner was served. Something was off in his body language. Sonny spoke to Angelo in a manner that suggested they were worried about something. I felt their unease around the family. They knew something, and they didn’t want to tell me. Whatever Angelo was hiding made me nervous.

I wasn’t marrying the man.

I was marrying the family.