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He shakes his head. “I’ll be there.”
“You better have a lot of coffee,” Franco says.
The corner of Angelo’s mouth lifts. “See you tomorrow.”
I end the call and glance out the window.
Carlo drives us to the penthouse, where the helicopter is waiting, and as we take the elevator to the roof, he says, “It will be nice to spend the weekend at home.”
I just nod, my thoughts turning to my other problem.
It’s been a week since I left Gabriella at the mansion.
I’ll have to wait until after the ballet company’s show before bringing up the subject of an arranged marriage to Dario.
We climb into the helicopter, and as it lifts into the air, I look down at my city.
I’ve worked my fucking ass off to make a name for myself. The blood I’ve shed forms a red carpet in the streets where everybody knows my name.
I want Miguel dead.
As we fly over Long Island, where Angelo lives, I think about how busy the other men’s lives have become. Angelo and Franco are drowning in baby shit and diapers. Renzo is focused on his woman and the restaurant he opened for her. And Dario is working his ass off at the ballet company.
Once I’ve dealt with Miguel and arranged the marriage between Dario and Gabriella, I’ll take some time off.
Maybe I’ll take Mamma on a vacation. She seldom gets to leave the mansion.
The helicopter lands on the helipad, and climbing out, I glance at all the guards while I walk to the French doors.
When I step into my home, I suck in a deep breath of the familiar air and let it out slowly.
I head straight for my suite, and shutting the door behind me, I let the darkness wrap around me. My eyes drift closed, and I drink in the silence.
I’ve always been a bit of a recluse, and interacting with people exhausts me to my core.
Taking another deep breath, I switch on the lights and head to the bathroom. I open the faucets and while the water warms up, I strip out of my suit.
As I place my Glock on the counter, my eye catches my reflection in the mirror and staring at myself, I take in the fine lines around my eyes.
I see the emotionless expression and try to remember the last time I felt any kind of emotion.
A frown forms on my forehead when a memory flashes through my mind.
Gabriella keeping eye contact with me in the living room of her parents' house, caught me by surprise. When she took a step away from me but then caught herself and stood her ground, something shifted in my chest.
She was manhandled but kept her chin raised.
Stefano even hit her with his belt, and she didn’t shed a single tear.
Gabriella is either fucking strong or broken beyond repair.
In my experience, I’ve learned broken people don’t fight back. Which means she’s the strongest woman I’ve ever encountered.
She’ll be a good match for Dario with his soft heart.
Letting out a sigh, I step into the shower and let the warm water wash over my body.
I automatically go through my routine before switching off the faucets and drying myself. When I walk into the closet, I’m tempted to put on a pair of sweatpants so I can just go to sleep.
