DONATELLA
The great poet Virgil once said, “Whatever it is, I fear the Greeks even when they bring gifts.” As I stood on the balcony of the tallest building in Chicago, my building apparently, I wondered if I should be at least one-eighth concerned about this gift and the man gifting it to me.
“Hello, big brother, how are you this evening?” I asked, lifting the phone to my ear, not looking away from the city lights.
“I’ve been trying to reach you all day,” Ethan stated.
“You may not have noticed, but I was held hostage in a bank robbery,” I said cheerfully.
“We noticed,” Wyatt’s voice came on the line. “What happened? Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. The S.W.A.T team took out two of the three men, and the only hostage shot is apparently recovering—”
“What happened with Gabriel, Dona?” Ethan questioned much more directly.
“He reopened his wounds, but a doctor came by to see him as said he’ll be fine just as long as he doesn’t have too many days like—”
“Donatella, don’t be coy.”
“Don’t be demanding,” I snapped, then took a deep breath, not wanting them to kill my mood. “Ethan, Wyatt. I’m fine. In fact, for the first time in a long time, I feel great. I’m with Gabriel; I don’t know when I’ll be home, don’t wait up and don’t bother me for now. Love you both. Bye.”
Hanging up, I slipped the phone back into my pocket, shifting my gaze to the W of Wilson Bank, the light of the sign now dimmed. It had taken over four hours before we were free to leave. While the S.W.A.T team snuck into the building and helped people get out, Gabriel did something to the computers. He was wounded but acting chivalrous, demanding the women be saved first, just to give himself more time. By the time we made it back to the hotel, the coverage of the robbery had been played at least half a dozen times on every major network.
BUZZ.
Turning around and heading back into the massive suite, I saw Gabriel come down the stairs dressed in jeans that hung off his waist and a dark shirt he hadn’t bothered to button. He was still drying his wet, brown-blonde hair.
“Are you expecting someone?” I asked him as he moved to the door.
“Someone, no. Things, yes,” he said, opening the door to the same shy, puppy-dog eyed woman I’d met earlier. She wasn’t alone this time.
The first two people who came in after her brought dinner trays. They didn’t just set up in the dining room but the entire living area, moving the couches back and placing them around the coffee table. They set the small table and even lit candles, while another two workers wheeled in two separate carts; the first held clothes, the second contained shoes and handbags.
“Stop,” I held my hands out to them, walking to the second cart and lifting the velvet red box. They were Christian Louboutin, but the box indicated that they were a one of a kind custom shoe; like two I’d been able to get previously, yet here there were seven boxes. Lifting the lid, I stared at a pair of butterfly bow-tie pumps. I was tempted to try them on but didn’t want to look too excited, especially knowing that Gabriel enjoyed pissing me off. Closing the lid, I put the box back down and stepped back, nodding for the workers to keep going.
“You like?” Gabriel asked from behind me.
“They look a little small for you,” I said.
I heard him snicker, “You’re probably right, you’re free to have them instead.”
Crossing my arms, I watched the worker bees hurry about the suite. “I’m rich enough to buy all of this and more.”
He leaned over, his lips once again to my ear, making me feel warm with each word he spoke, “But isn’t it nice when someone else buys it for you?”
“No,” I said, turning to face him. “It makes me wonder what that someone is up to. I’m here, Gabriel. I’m waiting. Why don’t we lay our cards on the table before exchanging gifts?”
“Exchanging?” He smiled. “What did you bring for me?”
“Being on my good side. Having me on your side is gift, didn’t you know?”
His gray eyes did it again, mentally stripping me naked as they looked over my body. “I’m well aware.”
“Then why did you ask?” I didn’t wait for his answer, walking to the set table. One of the workers pulled out my chair for me while another pulled out Gabriel’s who waited for me to sit before sitting himself. Putting the napkin my lap, I lifted my glass and waited. One of the workers carefully poured the red wine then looked to Gabriel as he buttoned up the rest of his shirt before filling his glass.
We both waited, quietly drinking as we watched each other.
“Will that be everything?” one of the workers asked.
“Yes,” Gabriel replied but didn’t look away from me, his chest rising and falling slowly. “You all may go.”
It felt like it took forever for them all to leave when in reality it was only seconds. The air was so heavy, like the moment right before a rainstorm. Reaching over, he lifted the tray cover and in fluent French said, “le Homard bleu aux baies de myrte et gingembre.”
“Blue lobster and myrtle berries?”
“Blue Lobster with myrtle and ginger berries,” he nodded at the beautiful dish before us and refilled my wine glass for me. “You don’t understand French?”
“Why would I understand French? I’m Italian and Irish.” I reminded him, picking up my fork. But it was me who needed a reminder; I was here to question him, not the other way around. Putting my fork back down, I gave him my full attention. “And you knew that. You know a lot about me already yet I don’t know anything about you. You want it that way. If you don’t answer my questions, I will walk out and when I walk out, no one can make me come back. Not my grandmother, not even my mother, if she were alive.”
“Ask then, Dona,” he said before taking a bite of his food and lifting his wine glass.
“What is your name?”
“Gabriel.”
“Last name?”
“I do not have one,” he stated. I could feel myself getting annoyed when he said, “That is the truth.”
I didn’t want to get caught up on the smaller question now. Fine. “What mafia are you linked to?”
“None.”
I knew it! He was just playing around. “Gabriel, I’m going to need more details from you.”
“Ask more detailed questions.”
Oh, this little— “Fine.” I sat up. “Did you choose the Wilson Bank for a reason or did you choose it because you knew a robbery was already being planned there? If it was for a particular reason, what is it? Is it connected to my family? How did you manage to pull it off? Is that detailed enough for you?”
He swallowed the food in his mouth, putting his glass down. “I did choose the Wilson Bank for a reason, and it wasn’t because I knew a robbery was being planned there.” He decided at that point to drink, relaxing.
“Go on.”
“It’s odd…the bossier you are, the more turned on I get,” he whispered, placing his hand on his lips. “I’m torn between putting you in your place and seeing just how much more I can push you.”
“You push, I shoot. The dead don’t get turned on so it’s your choice,” I replied, lifting my glass to him.
The asshole lifted his glass as well, tapping it against mine. “The dead also can’t speak, meaning you’d never get answers you want.”
Lifting the glass to my lips, I drank all of it, taking a deep breath afterward before setting it back on the table. I lifted the napkin from my thighs before standing. “Thank you for the wine Gabriel, it’s been interesting.”
Just as I moved, he spoke again.
“The reason I chose the Wilson Bank is because after your Aunt Coraline gave away control of the bank to her uncle, he and his partners made it corrupt. Much of the money coming in was from corrupted officials overseas. They now take the assets of various ingrates and spread them throughout the United States and off-shore accounts. Some of those people have been targeting me for a very long time. I didn’t have the power to stop them before, now I do.”
The way he said it, without doubt, eagerly, like he’d been locked up and finally set free to cause chaos… It sent a shiver down my spine. I wanted to know what he was going to do with this power and how he got it.
“On top of that, Wilson Bank has been scamming average people,” he went on without missing a beat. “The moment your federal government and people found out, Wilson started hiding their secret funds even deeper. I didn’t have time to be chasing down accounts so I secretly tipped off two lifelong employees - who happened to be in anger management - to the fact that they were penniless. I let their anger grow and then waited for today, where I used that small window of chance to copy all hidden accounts and then delete access to them. The money will be frozen there, untouchable, even though they know it’s there. And if they try to get access to it, they’ll expose themselves. So, other than the fact that your aunt once upon a time owned the bank, it has nothing to do with the Callahan family and everything to do with me. Detailed enough?”
It was at this point that I relaxed. I was already sitting back down by now and smiling as I too began to eat. “So, you, like everyone else, are out for revenge?”
“No.” He shook his head, looking me dead in the eye as he said, “I’m out for what is mine by right, Donatella.”
The look in his eyes as he spoke was like a raging fire. He looked dangerous… Even to me, who grew up with men that embodied danger.
“What does that mean?”
Buzz.
Of course, his phone would pick now to go off! I thought, annoyed as he picked it up and hit answer, only to say, “You may come in.”
I looked to the door as it opened and seven men entered, dressed in black suits, one tall brown-skinned man stood in front of the two rows of guards.
“You really do enjoy making my job difficult, Your Highness,” the tall man said to Gabriel.
What? I laughed to myself in disbelief, looking over to the man. “Please tell me that is an insult.”
He looked at me, confused, and then back at Gabriel, forcing me to look at him, too. When I did, I saw that same wicked grin he’d had at the bank, and I couldn’t bring myself to speak. So, he spoke instead.
“I don’t have last name… I just have title,” he whispered, then loudly stated. “Sebastian…my title.”
“Prince Gabriel Honoré Déllacqua III, Hereditary Prince of Monaco, the Marquis of Baux.”
“Thank you, Sebastian. You all may leave, I’ll be here for the night,” he said, and as they took their exit, I took a deep breath, only speaking once the door closed was behind them.
“While that does explain why you’re such an entitled prick,” I spoke as if it all meant nothing, lifting my fork and pulling the lobster meat from its small shell. “It still doesn’t explain why you are in my city and not in Monaco.”
“Is it your city, or your brother’s?”
“It’s the Callahan City. I am a Callahan.”
“But a Callahan still under another Callahan,” he stated as fact. Reaching it his pocket, he put a black velvet box between us. “You said you wanted power, respect, and recognition. You do not want to bow down to anyone…not even your brother. As my wife, you can have all of that. Your brothers will have to bow to you. Since I don’t have a last name, once I take the throne, you’ll forever be known as Her Serene Highness Donatella Aviela Callahan, The Princess of Monaco.”
He opened the box and inside sat a large, red, radiant cut diamond on a thin platinum, diamond-studded band. It was beautiful. I wanted it. I wanted all of it. However, reason stopped me from jumping in head first.
Getting to my feet slowly, smiling, I walked the small distance over to his side of the table, leaning on the edge right near his hands.
“A prince comes out of nowhere, offering me everything I want on a silver platter, that sounds too good to be true,” I whispered, pulling out my gun and pointing it directly at his chest. “And if it sounds too good to be true, my father told me to shoot first and ask more questions second. Seeing as how you’ve already been shot, I’ll skip to my question. Why me? I’m sure there is a duchess or countess or whatever somewhere in Europe that can be your princess. Me, I’m just a girl from Chicago.”
“Where in the hell have you been hiding that?” he asked, gesturing to the gun, baffled and amused but not afraid. He looked over me quickly as he tried to answer his own question.
I pulled back on the hammer.
“Just a girl from Chicago,” he laughed, grabbing my wrist and lifting my hand up until the barrel of the gun was at his forehead. “So then…the rest of the world knows you are a fighter,” he replied, using my own words from earlier against me. “Over the last two decades Monaco has become come a growing power in Europe. It is one of the very few monarchies left in the world which hold any real power. As you know, with power come enemies. Before my mother died, she looked high and low for girl who would make my position stronger, but would still be intelligent, beautiful, and charming enough to be a princess. And your mother appeared, promising you’d be everything I needed, and she was right. What use is a duchess or countess who is only well read with a pretty face? I need a woman who is not afraid to get her hands bloody.”
“And mine are already stained.” I grinned, putting the hammer back in place and shaking his hand off. Switching the gun to my other hand, I said, “Some fairytale this is.”
“Fairytales are for the weak-minded, Donatella. We don’t love each other. We don’t need to love each other. What we need is more power. One marriage and we both get it. Why rule a city when you could rule a nation?”
I stretched out my left hand and lifted the fourth finger. He took the ring from the box and slid it on to my finger. It fit perfectly, the flame of the candle reflecting in the red diamond. I couldn’t see myself, but I knew my smile must have been just as mischievous and depraved as his.
There was only one thing to say, and I said it proudly, “Long may we reign.”
“With all prestige and unwavering might,” he said, looking me in the eye as he kissed the back of my hand.
It might have been the wine. It might have been the conversation. It might have even been the sheer excitement of what was to come. It might have been all of those things all at once that made us both look at each other with lust.
Within a second his lips were on mine, his hard chest pressed up against me. One hand on my ass as the other grabbed my breast through my top. His tongue was in my mouth, brushing around mine. He was overwhelming. Every one of my senses was taken by him. We moaned into each other mouths, and I could feel him getting harder against me. He kissed me to take my breath away, to give me no space to deny him. His kiss moved from my lips, down my jaw and to my neck, sending chills down my spine.
I wanted him…but…
“Stop.” I didn’t just say it, I grabbed a fistful of his dirty blond hair and pulled his hair back, forcing him to him to look me in the eyes. The look of pain in his gray eyes, most likely from the bulge I could feel pressed against my stomach, told me just how he felt about being stopped. “A ring only gets you this far. I’ll need a crown if you want to go any further.”
Letting him go, I pushed back and stood up straighter, fixing my top as I walked to the stairs.
“How soon do you want it?” he asked and inhaled through his nose as he tried to calm down. “The bank is finished; the ring is on your finger. I need nothing else from Chicago. My father will step down from the throne on my thirtieth birthday. I need to be in Monaco by then.”
“And when is your thirtieth birthday?”
“Three days.”
This son of bitch.
“Give me twenty-four hours,” I replied, walking back up the stairs without saying anything else.
GABRIEL
Abandon everything you’ve ever known and follow me.
That was what I’d just asked her to do. She was born and raised in Chicago. When she spoke about it earlier, I knew she loved this city and I worried she wouldn’t be able to leave. However, once again, she proved she was the woman I needed. Many people spoke about gaining power, but very few were willing to sacrifice to get it. Both of our families stood at the top because those who came before us were willing to put anything and everything on the line to get there.
My father used to ask me, “How can you rule men if you act like one?”
The answer was simple: you can’t.
Like the Pharaohs of the past, you must be half-man, half-god.
“Sebastian,” I spoke into the phone in my hand, pouring the rest of the wine into my glass, “we’ll be returning home in twenty-four hours.”
“Understood, Your Highness.”
Hanging up, I took my glass, walking out on to the balcony, unable to stop the grin on my face as I looked up at the flickering light of the Wilson Bank logo.
“Soon,” I whispered and drank. Soon they’d all be on their knees crying tears of blood, begging me to spare them.
And I’ll place my heels on their heads so they can drink their own tears.