Married to the mafia boss Series

Arabella

If any of the flight attendants saw or heard anything that happened between Carmelo and I, they didn’t let on. Majority of the time they stayed toward the front of the plane behind a privacy curtain. I wake up from my nap feeling sated and serene. I still have a soreness between my legs that leaves a satisfied smirk on my face.

Carmelo stretches beside me and that’s when I notice out the window that instead of blue ocean below us-there’s land. The pilot comes on the loudspeaker to announce we’ll be landing very shortly and to buckle up.

I want to say finally, but as soon as I’m off this plane I am going to enter an entirely new life. Carmelo and I sit silently beside each other, there’s so much to be said in so little time, yet neither of us talk. But I know we both are saying our peace by not saying anything. The silence in itself is heartbreaking and the tension to keep from looking at each other is thick. My fingers itch to move and hug him.

Neither of us wants to say the words, so this is our unspoken farewell.

The plane lands at a private strip where I can see people and cars are waiting for us. My palms start to sweat and I’m anxious to see Lazzaro after so many years of being apart. I’m also afraid that when we step out of the plane I will go in one direction and Carmelo will go in another and that will be that.

When the plane comes to a complete stop and the flight attendants open the door, I take a deep breath as I slowly make my way to the front of the plane. Carmelo trails behind me as we walk down the stairs and toward the black car where, I assume, my brother is standing with his back toward me, talking to another olive-skinned man in a suit.

The air smells fresh and the grass seems so much better. I’ve missed this place but it’s never been home. The sun is hot in the sky and there’s not a single cloud in sight. It’s so different from Chicago. Without the city traffic, this place is peaceful and you can actually hear yourself think-I hate hearing myself think. I tend to overdo it and ruminate on things way too much.

As I approach my brother turns around revealing a handsome, hard-featured face with a pearly white, straight toothed smile. The Italian sun has been good for his complexion. Us Moretti’s have always been tan but his skin is now a deep bronze color. He is taller than I remember, he’s about the same height as Carmelo. His body is lean in his fitted gray suit. He’s gained a lot more muscle here too.Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

“Bella,” he pulls me in for a quick hug before kissing both of my cheeks. “It’s so good to have you here,” his English now has a hint of an Italian accent.

“Laz,” I give him an endearing smile. “I’ve missed you too, big brother.”

“Come,” he places his hand on the small of my back and steps toward the car. “I have much to show and tell you.”

I look over my shoulder to see Carmelo standing there with both of his hands in his pockets. He looks out of place, as if he’s about to crawl out of his skin. His stoic expression doesn’t fool me because I can see behind it and he looks… worried?

“Ah,” Lazzaro’s own attention goes to Carmelo. “This must be the bodyguard who saved my little sister and got her on the plane,” he bows his head, “Grazie.”

“I’ve been looking over Arabella for over a year now. I made an oath to keep her safe.”

Lazzaro drops his hand from my back and looks tense. The muscle in his jaw ticks and he looks Carmelo up and down as if to size him up. “Antonio told me to send you back, it’s what I intend to do. Although he wants you back tonight, I cannot do that. You will be on the first flight tomorrow morning. I’ll have a maid draw up the guest room.” His tone is vexed and condescending. Already I know my brother does not like him.

Lazzaro helps me into the car and I sit between both him and Carmelo as his driver and bodyguard sit up front. Lazzaro has always been business, he’s been a serious man ever since he was a boy. He’s been even more serious and emotionless since he was christened a Man of Honor when he was just shy of his fourteenth birthday.

My gaze goes to the gold ring on his left finger and I begin to picture what his wife looks like. I’ve heard a lot about her from my mother. I know their marriage was quick, it seemed he had just arrived in Italy after graduation, and the next he was married, and soon after she had a baby. My guess is the baby was out of wedlock so they had to cover things up quick. His wife was born and raised in Italy, my parents were happy that she is wealthy and her father of high rank in La Cosa Nostra.

“Welcome home,” Lazzaro says when the car parks. Out the window in the massive villa the Moretti family owns-specifically my grandfather owns. There are enough guest rooms to fit 10 families of four and for them to have their own room each. The villa has its own garden, pool, winery, everything! Not to mention the surrounding guest houses near the property, but not close enough to walk to, are for my grandfather’s closest soldiers and consigliere.

The villa is a burnt orange color with dark maroon shutters and roof. The sliding glass doors on the second and third floor lead out onto balconies. The glass doors on the first floor are long and wide and lead out on the back or front patio area. The entire place is gated in and filled with about as much protection as you’d see on a military base, if not more.

The words, Welcome home, make me feel uneasy. I’m not going back to Chicago. No matter how much I beg, I will never live in the city of my birth again. Who knows how frequently I’ll get to visit. I won’t get to see my goddaughter grow up or get to see Liliana. Liliana quickly became my best friend-it’s almost ridiculous how close we clicked. I couldn’t help it, with my husband dead and my siblings moved away, I was desperate for friendship and Liliana made me want to trust her and I was right to. She became a close confidant and helped me through a rough patch in my life.

And Carmelo.

My protector. My safety-net. My cheer-up buddy. My lover. My best friend.

He’ll be done by the morning and my father and Lazzaro will make sure I never see him again.

“Ready to go inside?” Lazzaro climbs out his side of the door when one of butlers opens the door. I can feel Carmelo staring at me from beside me. His door is being held open by another butler.

I nod my head, despite the fact that every fiber of my being is screaming at me to leave. The butterflies in my stomach tell me I’m far from ready to go inside. But I go anyways. Because no matter what, it’s always been my duty to obey the path my family chooses for me.

Even if it’s the wrong path.

“Nonno has been anticipating your arrival.”

“Really?” I ask as Lazzaro guides me toward the front door, which is already opened by another butler.

“Yes. We have a lot to tell you, Bella. Things are changing in La Cosa Nostra. That is why I brought you here.”

“Changing?” I raise an eyebrow.

“I will discuss matters later when we are in private,” he shoots a look at Carmelo. “For now, I’ll give you a tour and show you your new room. It’s been awhile since you were here, I’m sure you’ve forgotten where majority of things are.”

I did remember but the refresher would be nice, so I don’t argue. “Elena,” Lazzaro yells to one of the nearby maids. She comes rushing toward him with her head down. “Mostra Carmelo nella sua stanza,” he orders her in Italian.

“Can’t Carmelo have the tour with us?” I don’t want Carmelo to go to his room. I want him by my side, helping me through the anxiety spiraling out of my control. Right now Carmelo is my little piece from back home and as soon as I let him go, he’s gone. The vision of Chicago is gone. My protector is gone. The thought makes me feel unsafe despite the heavily protected villa.

“No,” Lazzaro shakes his head. “He’ll need his rest for his trip tomorrow. Bedsides, I need to talk to you alone. I’ll have the maid bring your luggage up to your room. Why don’t we stroll through the garden out back?”

My gaze doesn’t leave Carmelo’s who is standing in the foyer, with a pale-faced expression as one of the maids is trying to tell him to follow her. He doesn’t listen to her and I stop listening to Laz myself. We’re now in our own little bubble, desperate to hug each other and say goodbye. To say everything we never had the chance to and probably never will again.

Lazzaro’s hand on my back leads me through the corridor, to the back of the sparkling clean house across marble floors, and out to the patio in the backyard. My heart sinks with despair and my legs itch to run the other way and have my goodbye. My head feels dizzy with confusion and uncertainty and the paradise I always found Italy to be, now becomes a prison.

“I’m sure you’ll want to get in the pool sometime soon. The sun is hot and it’s perfect weather to take a swim or tan. My wife is always here so she’ll keep you company,” he says, mentioning his wife for the first time since I’ve arrived. The tour of the pool is quick before he leads me out to the vineyard and into the depth of the maze where no one can hear or spy on us.

“What’s going on, Laz?” This changing makes me nervous and who knows what he’s going to say. All the endless possibilities-horrible possibilities.

“Nonno is dying.”

“What?” I blink a few times. If I was closer to him I’d shed a tear, but he’d never been the most thoughtful and caring grandfather. Not to mention I’ve only met him a handful of times. The news still comes as a shock. Hell, I thought that stubborn man would live forever.

“His condition has gotten pretty bad. Some days he’s in a wheelchair, other days he’s bed-ridden. Doctors say he doesn’t have much time.”

“So, what does that mean for La Cosa Nostra?”

A large toothy grin fills his face. Pride radiates of his body as he puffs his chest out and say, “I am going to be the new Don. Nonno has been grooming me to take over since I’ve arrived. Already with his condition deteriorating I have been doing most of the work and commanding his men.”

“Wow,” I’m not exactly surprised. I kind of suspected this would happen. Just not so soon. “Congratulations.”

“Grazie,” he says still holding his smile.

“Laz…” I take a deep breath before asking, “What exactly am I doing here? What are your plans for me?”

“You will be meeting someone tomorrow. He is my consigliere. His name is Gaetano Cobuzzi and it is agreed that you will be his wife.”

I blink a few times and open my mouth to say something but shut it. I do this a few more times before blurting out, “You know they call me The Cursed Widow.”

Lazzaro brushes it off and shakes his head. “He is very anxious to meet you.”

“Laz! I-I don’t want to get married.”

In an instant his expression turns angry and face goes red. If he could, I bet steam would fly out of his ears too. “Arabella, I already talked to Papa and Nonno and we think this is the best option for you. Chicago does not have a place for you anymore. Your husbands are dead and you need a new one. My consigliere needs a wife and you will fill that position because it’s the best option you will get!” His temper gets the best of him.

I swallow hard. There’s no getting out of this. There’re not enough puppy-dog eyes in the world that will work on a stubborn soon-to-be Don who is used to always getting his way.

“Now,” Lazzaro takes a deep breath, brushes back his gelled hair and pulls his suit jacket down, “Do not ruin this by acting like a brat before we finish our stroll.”

The past few years have really changed my brother. I wonder what his wife is like? Is she a helpless, stuck in the marriage, mob daughter like me-or like I was-or I guess like I will be, too? Or is she just as cold hearted as Laz and they make the perfect couple?

God, I can’t wait to see what a monster my nephew is. Or maybe he’s a sensitive little boy who doesn’t want to grow up to be like his daddy.

I can’t concentrate through the entire conversation through the vineyard. All I can think about is who my next husband will be, what he looks like, how he’ll treat me. Could we love each other? I could think of it like going on a date, maybe we could fall in love. Maybe third time really is the charm.

Heading back to the house, I notice a woman and a boy in the pool while the sun is still out. Immediately I assume they’re his wife and son. Both of them have raven colored hair and suntanned, olive skin. The woman is of average height and her weight curvy with a healthy amount of meat on her bones. The little boy is wearing his bathing suit and glistening from his dip in the pool. He’s so skinny that you can see his ribs. He smiles at his mother and I notice he’s missing a few teeth and his grin shows a deep dimple on his right cheek.

Lazzaro and I approach them and he wraps his arm around her waist and kisses the crown of her head. “Arabella, this is my wife Emilia and over there is my son, Gabriel.”

“It is nice to finally meet you,” Emilia replies in broken English.

Gabriel comes running up to me and holds out his hand, “Nice to meet you,” he says in Italian.

“Gabriel, this is your Aunt Bella,” Lazzaro introduces me.

“It is nice to meet both of you. I have heard so much,” I respond in their native tongue.

Emilia smiles, “It’s going to be wonderful having another woman around my own age here. We should get acquainted and go out for coffee tomorrow. There’s this cafe-”

“Emilia, no,” Lazzaro cuts her off. “She is meeting with Gaetano.”

She gives me a weak smile back, almost looking disappointed as her shoulders slump. “Another time.”

I nod my head in agreement.

“You can talk with Emilia later. Right now, I’m taking you to see Nonno,” Laz grabs me by the elbow and pulls me along inside the house.

I gulp and fight back the bile threatening to rise up my throat. I’m not ready for this and I’m beginning to feel overwhelmed now that I know Italy is my permanent residence and I’m going to get married, again. Normally people would be excited to see their grandfather but he’s not a normal grandfather. I won’t get a hug or a kiss. The cold stare from his eyes is unnerving and his hard facial features are the equivalent of a massive resting bitch face. To simply put it, my grandfather is a very scary man. Going into his room to greet him is like going to the principal’s office as a kid.

The large double doors leading into his room are intimidating. My heart beats fast with anticipation of every possibility that could happened when stepping through the threshold and into his room. It’s hard not to see him as the most ruthless Don of La Cosa Nostra and see him as my Nonno. I take a deep breath as Lazzaro opens the doors and holds it open for me to enter first.

I look around the large room to see it has its own living area, en suite bathroom, and large balcony overlooking the villa’s backyard and vineyard. Over to the left of the room in the king sized bed was Nonno. Even in his sleep he looks pissed off.

The hardwood floorboard creaks as I take a step further in the room. The noise wakes my grandfather up and his eyes fly awake and his body goes on alert. For the first time I really look at him and notice just how much he’s aged since the last time I’ve seen him. He still looks mean but he looks frail. His face has accumulated more wrinkles and the bags under his eyes make him look like he’s in desperate need of sleep. His usual bronze skin is now pale either from lacking vitamin D from the sun or simply because he’s, well, dying.

“Bella,” he croaks in that deep voice of his. He begins struggle to sit up in bed and Laz rushes over to him.

“Nonno, no-”

“I will not lay in this bed while I haven’t seen my granddaughter in years!” His shouting startles me.

Laz throws his hands up in surrender and backs away from Nonno’s bedside. We both watch as he groans attempting and failing for several minutes to sit up. I try not to wince. Stubborn man won’t even let Laz or me help him.

When he finally sits up we notice he is trying to get out of bed to stand, it’s his stupid pride that won’t allow him to look weak in front of anyone-including his granddaughter.

I sit down at the edge of his bed and gather enough courage to place my hand on top of his. “It’s so good to see you, Nonno,” I say in Italian with a soft smile.

“Bella, I’m so glad to have you here. You have grown into a beautiful young woman. I trust Lazzaro has shown you around and caught you up with everything?”

I nod my head, “Yes, Nonno. I don’t understand why I have to marry this-”

Nonno raises his hand silencing me. “It is a woman’s duty to do what is asked of her. La Cosa Nostra will benefit by this union. Lazzaro would not ask this of you if it were not.”

I nod my head. It’s always a woman’s duty. I’ve been told countless times that the only reason daughters are born into the mafia is to be married off to the Men of Honor or as La Cosa Nostra call them here-mafiosi.

“Italia will be good to you. It is much better to be here than in Chicago. Antonio tells me some men were after you. You will be safe her and a husband will keep you safe. Gaetano is a well-respected man. Now, the sun is setting and you should get some rest. You must be jet-lagged. We will talk again soon.”

Even though I’m the least bit tired right now, it doesn’t take a genius to know he was kicking me out for his sake, not mine. Nonno could barely keep his eyes open and his words came out slow and strained. I kissed his cheek and left with Lazzaro at my feet.

“You should get some rest,” Laz agrees and shuts Nonno’s master doors behind us. “I’ll show you to your room. The maids already cleaned and made up the bed and your stuff has already been transported while we were in the vineyard earlier.”

“How long does he have?” I ask quietly as I follow Laz down the hall.

He shrugs. “Months, if that.”