God Of Vengeance (Kings Of Mafia)

Halfway to the airfield where the private jet is waiting, I tuck my phone back into my pocket.

Stefano’s pissed off that I didn’t give my blessing and instead took the woman he wanted to marry, but he’ll just have to get over it.

The di Bella household is a fucking mess, and I refused to stay there a second longer. I’m used to violence. It’s second nature to me, but having to see Gabriella degraded and mistreated tested my patience. If I’d stayed for dinner, instead of leaving, there would’ve been a blood bath.

I glance at Gabriella and notice she’s changed her outfit. She looks glamorous in the pink suit, and even though I have zero interest in her, I notice her cleavage that’s on full display.ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

She might be on the shorter side, but she has curves in all the right places. She’s beautiful, but that’s not why she’s sitting beside me.

When she held eye contact with me, I was actually a little stunned. It showed she has more guts than most of the men in our world.

No matter how she was yanked, shoved, and hit, she kept lifting her chin and straightening her spine.

I think she’s fucking strong and would be a perfect match for Dario, one of the other heads of the Cosa Nostra.

Dario’s like a little brother to me. Annoying as fuck, but still, I love him and want the best for him. He needs a strong wife who will take care of him.

Even though I don’t give a shit about the woman beside me, I’m sure she’ll appreciate being married to a man who won’t mistreat her.

She’ll be thankful that I’ve chosen a good man for her, and in return, she’ll make Dario happy.

I’m surprised when she asks, “Are we going to New York?”

Usually, people don’t dare speak to me without my permission.

My eyes flick to her face, and I notice the red welt across her neck from where Stefano hit her with his belt. The sight of the bruises fuels my anger.

Not bothering to talk, I nod.

“Why are you taking me with you?”

Annoyed by the questions, I mutter, “Silence.”

Relaxing in the seat, I rest my elbow on the doorframe and rub my fingers over the scruff on my jaw as I stare out the window.

I hate traveling.

I hate leaving my house. Period.

I hate people.

I hate noise.

I hate the daylight.

I hate everything.

If it wasn’t for the love I feel for the people closest to me, I’d think I was incapable of loving anyone or anything.

I only care about six people.

My mother.

Carlo, who’s my most trusted man and hardly leaves my side.

Angelo, Franco, Renzo, and Dario – the other four heads of the Cosa Nostra.

Nothing else matters to me. Not even Angelo, Franco, and Renzo’s women. Vittoria, Samantha, and Skylar only fall under my protection because they matter to my friends.

I’ve never made an effort to get to know any of the women, and I never will.

My thoughts return to work, and when I think about the fucker that’s trying to sell drugs in my city, rage burns through my chest. I want Miguel dead as soon as possible so I can focus on the new construction projects that have been put on hold for too long.

Carlo brings the SUV to a stop near the private jet, and not waiting for him to open my door, I shove it open and climb out.

My eyes scan over the area for any threats as the rest of my men spill from the other SUVs to offer me protection as I walk to the plane.

I head up the steps and straight to my seat. A second later the flight attendant places a tumbler of whiskey down beside me.

“Anything else, sir?” she asks, her tone filled with respect and fear.

I shake my head, then my eyes lock on Gabriella as she takes a seat as far away from me as possible. She looks pale as fuck, and even though I can feel the worry and fear coming off her in waves, she keeps her head raised high.

As I enjoy the whiskey, her eyes meet mine, and instead of quickly lowering her gaze, she holds my stare once a-fucking-gain.

Besides my mother, Gabriella is the first woman to look me dead in the eye for longer than a few seconds. Usually, the female species cower before me, unwilling to meet my gaze.

But not this one.

Weirdly, it makes me feel curious to see how hard I can push before she’ll kneel at my feet.

When I tear my gaze away from hers, I notice some of my men appreciating the view of Gabriella’s cleavage a little too much.

Turning my head to my left, where Carlo is seated, I murmur, “Have Gabriella put on a blouse. I don’t want her distracting the men.”

“Okay.”

When Carlo gets up and walks to Gabriella, her eyes widen slightly. Without saying anything, he takes hold of her arm and pulls her up from the seat.

He checks through three bags before finding the one he’s looking for, then takes her to the bedroom. Once she’s inside, he orders, “Put on a blouse beneath your jacket.”

When he shuts the door, I order, “No one looks at the woman.”

I hear a chorus of “Yes, boss.”

“When she comes out, I want her sitting beside me,” I inform Carlo.

I know very little about the woman and will need some information to give Dario. It’s the only reason I want to talk to her.

Gabriella takes a couple of minutes too long before she comes out of the bedroom. Before she can return to her seat, Carlo gestures for her to sit next to me.

Her features tense, but without any argument on her part, she comes to take the seat.

A whiff of her perfume hits me. It’s fresh, and surprisingly, I find myself taking a deeper breath instead of being annoyed by the feminine scent invading my personal space.

She crosses her legs, her movements elegant as fuck.

Gabriella di Bella has the grace of a queen.

Even though her hair is on the shorter side, the light brown and blond coloring suits her. Her slender neck draws my gaze, her skin looking silky soft.

Our eyes meet for a moment, and I notice the green flecks hidden in her light brown irises.

She has beautiful eyes. They’re expressive.

The flight attendant comes to collect my tumbler, then says, “We’re ready for take-off, sir.”

I nod, and as she does her final checks, I put on my safety belt.

The private jet starts to taxi down the runway, and after gaining enough speed, it lifts into the air.

Gabriella suddenly grabs hold of my forearm, and if it weren’t for the shirt I’m wearing, her nails would draw blood.

I turn my head toward her and see she has her eyes squeezed shut, her face so fucking pale, I worry whether she’s about to get sick next to me.

I look at where her slender fingers are gripping my arm, and when my anger doesn’t spiral out of control because she’s touching me without permission, my eyebrow lifts.

Don’t look too deep.

The seatbelt sign goes off, and it has me muttering, “My arm.”

I hear Gabriella gasp as her fingers jump away from me. “I apologize,” she murmurs, her voice coated with fear.

She glances in my direction, and a moment passes before her eyes meet mine. “It’s my first time flying.”

When she doesn’t lower her gaze, I take in the green flecks in her soft brown eyes, then, to test her, I let my expression grow dark.

I let every ounce of power I possess radiate from me.

She starts to tremble and swallows hard, but still, her eyes remain locked on mine. There’s no staring her down.

“Are you brave or stupid?” I ask, the anger constantly skirting around the edges of my mind, making my tone sound harsh.

It takes a few seconds before her glossy lips part, and her honest reply trembles with the fear I’m accustomed to hearing as she says, “I’m stubborn by nature.”

Her answer actually amuses me, and once again, I’m caught by surprise as the corner of my mouth lifts. It’s fleeting before I forcefully school my face with an impassive expression.

I glance at my men to see if any of them noticed the brief smile, but half are napping while some watch TV.

Focusing my attention back on my original plan to get information for Dario, I ask, “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

Eight years younger than Dario.

Sixteen years younger than me.

I ignore the unwanted thought and ask the next question, “Virgin?”

I feel an intense burst of energy from her, and turning my eyes back to her, I notice a blush creeping up her face.

Her reply falls softly between us. “Yes.”

I know everything about everyone that matters. Before I laid eyes on Gabriella, I didn’t care about her existence, and it’s the reason I don’t know much about her.

I tear my gaze away from her beautiful face. “Have you studied?”

“No.”

“Work?”

“My parents don’t approve of women working.”

“From what I saw, I assume you’re not close with your family?”

“I’m not.”

Good. It will save Dario from having to worry about them.

“Friends or acquaintances?”

Sometimes, friends can be a bigger nuisance than family.

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Your parents provided for you?”

I’m surprised when she doesn’t answer immediately, and it has my eyes snapping back to her face.

She seems to be in two minds about something before she answers, “They provided for my basic needs.”

“But?”

“You’ll probably find out sooner or later,” she mutters, sounding a little frustrated. “I get extra money from makeup and skincare tutorials on social media.”

I find social media to be a waste of time, but I’m impressed that she’s trying to earn her own income even though her parents don’t want her to work.

Not commenting on what she said, I ask, “How’s your health? Any problems?”

“No.”

“Mental problems I should know about?”

“No.”

“Contraception?”

Her cheeks flush again, and she sucks in a deep breath before letting it out with a huff. “There’s been no need for contraception as I haven’t been in a relationship.”

“So, no previous boyfriends?”

“No boyfriends,” she sighs, clearly annoyed by all the questions.

“But you were engaged to Stefano,” I state.

“Not by choice, and you could hardly call it a relationship.”

“My cousin isn’t known for his patience,” I say as I unbutton the cuffs of my shirt. While I roll the fabric to beneath my elbows, I ask, “Has he seen you naked or touched you in a sexual manner?”

“Caro Dio,” she gasps, and for the first time, she glances down at her hands that are lying on her lap while her cheeks burn red with embarrassment. “No. He was waiting for your approval.”

Good.

I’m surprised when a sense of relief trickles into my chest.

Not lifting her head, her voice trembles as she asks, “Will you answer my question from earlier?”

I shake my head and wave a hand toward the seat she previously occupied.

Carlo’s up and quickly helps Gabriella to the other chair before coming to take his place beside me.

The flight attendant brings me another tumbler of whiskey, and I take a couple of sips before leaning back and closing my eyes.

Gabriella’s answers fill my mind as I try to figure out who she really is. She seems strong and innocent, a combination I haven’t encountered before.