Chapter 4 Cielo
Cielo
Mr Moss is fascinating. Behind the copious amounts of wool is the heart of a fighter. He’s lost his cool several times since we picked him up, and I like it. There is nothing hotter than a fiery man.
Of course, it’s highly entertaining watching him plot and plan. He has a useless poker face, but I admire his guts. I wonder if he would have followed through with his plan to get my gun.
The thought makes me chuckle. Thankfully, the wind covers any noise. I don’t need anyone noticing my interest in the bookstore manager—or the fact he intrigues me.
I’d marked him as someone who would wither away under pressure—a meek mouse of a human. Sure, there was the vomiting incident, but he found his fire again, and quickly. It’s like he can’t stop himself from verbally hitting back.
As I said: Fascinating.
It irritates me some. I was ready to drop him off and never see him again, but now I want to know how he copes with Don Fusaro. He’s an impressive man and makes the toughest of people cower. Somehow, I believe Mr Moss will be as much of a surprise to him as he was to me.
My wait will be short-lived. The cliffside entrance to Don Fusaro’s most secure residential option in the UK is coming up fast. The family staying here is the only reason I didn’t push back harder against coming to Britain. Out of all his properties, this one is the safest, outside of Sicily.
The cliff looms over us as I bring the boat to a crawl.
Without experience, a dinghy could easily become damaged on the sharp rocks that lay hidden beneath the high tide.
I am the only one I trust to deliver the boat and its passengers safely.
Some say I’m a control freak, and I wholly agree.
There is a reason I am where I am in this life, and it comes down to trusting myself to get the job done.
Don Fusaro is the only other living creature I trust.
Mattia is waiting for us on the small dock. Like all the staff, he dresses in all black.
“Good to have you home, Cielo,” he says as we moor. “No problems?” he asks, eyeing Mr Moss and Kevin.
I shake my head. “No. Where is Don Fusaro?”
“In his office. I radioed up. He’s waiting.”
Stepping off the boat, I don’t look back.
Mia and Toni will escort our guests. And for some reason, I’m reticent to see Mr Moss’s reaction to his surroundings.
I’m not sure why. The man means nothing to me, and yet, I have a vision playing on a loop in my head of his face when I shot his friend.
The sheer terror, which I expected, is usually something I revel in, yet with him, it has conjured something else—something I’m not ready to explore.
So, I will do my job, drop him off, and hope I’m finally told what this has been all about.
The stone steps leading up to the cellar are damp and cold.
God, I hate the winter, especially outside of Italy.
I can’t wait to get home. Actually, I can’t wait to get to my room to shower and change.
Though I’m used to having my hair scraped back, it still gives me a pounding headache after several hours. Maybe I’ll just chop it off.
Two guards wait at the cellar entrance. They give me a curt nod as I pass by. Leading the way through the main house, I almost stop to see what Mr Moss makes of it all, but I catch myself in time. Show no weakness—no interest—that’s how the head of a family should act.
Only when we approach Don Fusaro’s office do I stop and turn. “Take Kevin to receive proper treatment,” I say to Toni. “Mia, guard the door.”
Toni whisks Kevin away. I can see Mr Moss wants to run after him, but he’s sensible enough to remain still.
As soon as Toni and Kevin disappear around the corner, his gaze returns to me.
There is that defiance again. It’s like an ember that glows in his eyes, just waiting to ignite.
I lick my lips and his eyes follow the movement. Interesting.
Mia, clearing her throat, brings me back to the task at hand.
Turning, I take a second to breathe slowly, letting my impenetrable mask slip back into place.
I knock once and then push the door open.
Expecting Don Fusaro to be waiting behind his desk, I’m surprised to see him standing by the window, gazing out onto the garden.
“Sir, Mr Moss,” I announce.
Normally, I call Don Fusaro by his first name.
But not in the company of a stranger. I show him the respect he deserves as the head of the family.
Stepping to the side, I effectively expose Mr Moss, who was hiding behind me.
He’s wringing his hands as his eyes dart around the room, finally landing on the Don.
His eyebrows furrow and I know he’s desperately trying to figure out who he is.
“You may leave, Cielo,” he says without turning around.
I grit my teeth. He’s dismissing me. Mr Moss turns slightly in my direction, and I can see he doesn’t want me to go. After all, I am the devil he knows. The Don is an unknown threat.
Knowing better than to argue, I exit the office and quietly shut the door.
My earlier desire to shower and change is gone.
Now, I need to release some frustration.
I hope Toni has dealt with Kevin because I need to beat on him for a few hours.
Toni is one of the very few people brave enough to take me on.
“Stay here,” I grind out to Mia as I leave. She’s smart enough to keep her face passive.
Toni is just leaving the guest wing when I see him.
“All good?” he asks.
“Suit up. We’re training.”
Sweat pours from my brow. My breathing is laboured, but I’m not done, unlike Toni, who looks seconds from collapse.
“Get up,” I growl. Adrenaline is flowing and I feel antsy to throw some more punches. My body is going to protest in the morning, but I don’t care.
“I’m done, Cielo,” he gasps.
“I’ll step in,” Roberto says from the door. He’s already got his hands wrapped. I nod and Toni crawls off the mat.
“Do your worst,” I say, jumping up and down to loosen up.
Roberto smiles at me. He’s just as vicious as me but lacks my stamina.
I train constantly. If I’m not in meetings or taking care of business in other ways, I’m in the gym.
Every property has one. I ensure all the staff and family members are trained in several martial arts.
It’s the main reason other families fear us so much.
The days of old are just that—old. So many families still live by an outdated way of life.
The head of the family sits, getting rich and fat, relying on their position to scare workers into submission.
They expect their underlings to do all the dirty work and fighting, leaving themselves weak.
In this family, it is expected every member, be they a driver, cook, or, like me, a boss, will be capable of deadly force.
We all know we can take care of business.
It bonds us as a family, too. There is a hierarchy, like other mafia families, but we are different.
There is no need to use fear, not when each person under the umbrella of the Fusaro name wants to be here because they love the Don, and me, and each other.
We strive for pure loyalty. They know their worth, as do I.
Roberto circles me several times. He’s like a caged tiger ready to attack.
Unfortunately for him, he’s too easy to anticipate.
His eyes give him away, so the second he pounces, I am all over him.
He fights with everything he has, which is precisely what I need to finally work through my frustration.
Roberto lies on the mat, breathing heavily. I lay beside him.
“You were extra worked up today,” he splutters.
“Mmm.”
“He will tell you,” he says. “Patience.”
Roberto is possibly the only other person, apart from Don Fusaro, who I can talk with honestly.
I trust him to a point, like everyone else in the world.
I keep a part of myself locked away. I know it’s a way to protect myself.
I learned from an early age to expect heartache.
He is also my ex-lover. We have been intimate, and that builds a deeper bond.
“I know,” I reply. “I’m going to shower. Thank you for this.”
“Anytime.”
I need to get showered and presentable quickly.
The Don could call for me at any moment, and I want to be prepared for what’s to come.
Mr Moss is important—more important than I realised.
It’s the only reason Lorenzo is keeping me at bay.
There, I said his name. I fulfilled my task; therefore, I’m back at my rightful station as Lorenzo Fusaro’s heir.
We need to talk. I have to air my frustration at being kept out of the loop.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the disappointment.
I’ve worked too hard to be so easily demoted.
And that’s what the task felt like: a demotion.
There was no reason Lorenzo couldn’t have sent Mia and Toni alone.
Was he sending me a message? I detest questioning myself like this.
I’ve just fastened my belt buckle when I receive a summons.
Instead of my tight knot, I let my hair flow freely.
I’m in all black again, but instead of combat trousers, I opt for slacks; Italian made, of course.
My black silk shirt feels good against my skin.
The clothes are my armour. I feel strong and in control when I wear my “Boss” attire.
It might sound ridiculous, but sometimes perception is everything.
Knocking on the office door once more, I don’t wait to enter. This time, Lorenzo is behind his desk. Mr Moss is nowhere in sight.
“Take a seat, Cielo,” he says in his commanding, yet comforting tone. “Drink?”
We often share a glass of brandy. I nod and he sets about pouring two doubles. Sitting silently, I keep my composure, just waiting for him to sit and explain.
We both take a sip of our drink, allowing the silence to descend. I learned everything I know from this man, so it’s not a shock he can out-wait me by miles. I grin at myself as I lose the game. “Okay, are you ready to tell me what is going on?”
He chuckles. “Still can’t beat my patience I see, my boy.”
“Lorenzo.”
He holds up his hand in a placating manner. “I appreciate your professionalism, as usual. I know you’ve wanted to question me from the second I gave you the order to find Benjamin.”
He is referring to him by his first name. Interesting.
“I’m confused, Lorenzo. Toni and Mia could have gone to collect him. I’ll be honest, it felt like a punishment. Have I displeased you? Offended you in some way?”
“Cielo, there is nothing you could do to displease me. You run this family honourably. Every decision you make is for the good, and the longevity, of the Fusaro name.”
“Then please explain. Who is Mr Moss? Why was it so important I get him?”
He empties his tumbler before answering, “Benjamin is my son.”