Epilogue – Gabriella
The private dining room smelled like garlic, red wine, and money. Thick curtains blocked the windows. The walls were dark wood, polished until they reflected the low light. No menus on the table. No server hovering. This room was for decisions, not dinner.
I was proud of this space. It might not seem like much, but it was my connection to the mob. I kept it just the way Don Morelli liked it. He never had to feel embarrassed bringing business here.
But right now, I wasn’t here as the manager of the restaurant. Behind those sliding doors, Mama Ana’s bustled with life. Somewhere, Vincenzo and Amanda were leaving, their business concluded. They got to escape. To be the happy couple, I knew they were.
Meanwhile, I’d been summoned. And I hadn’t dared bring the unfinished glass of red wine, no matter how badly I might need it.
“Gabriella,” Don Morelli gave me a warm smile. “Take a seat, cara.”
I obeyed.
My father sat across from me. The don sat to his right. A man with red hair, salted by age, sat to his left.
I tried not to stare. The very air reeked with power. But it was the subtle threat, the one that walked out of here, moments ago, with Vincenzo hot on his heels, who left a mark. He’d worn a mask. Why he felt the need to cover half his face made me shiver.
But I didn’t ask.
These kinds of men didn’t ask questions, nor did they appreciate ones being asked of them.
My hands rested in my lap. I could feel my pulse in my fingers. I focused on my breathing and kept my face neutral. That was something my nanny taught me early. Control your expression. Everything else can betray you.
The don cleared his throat. “This will be quick.”
That alone made my stomach tighten.
My father did not look at me when he spoke. He stared at the empty place setting in front of him. “An agreement has been reached.”
The word agreement landed heavy. Permanent. Sharp.
“Okay,” I answered, because the pause felt like it needed a break. My voice sounded steady. I was proud of that.
Our guest leaned back in his chair. He was well dressed in an expensive, tailored suit. His hands were clean. There were no visible scars. No blood. He looked like a man who drank expensive booze and never raised his voice. That somehow made him more dangerous.
“With us,” he said. His English had a lilting, sing-song quality. It immediately revealed his birthplace, and I wondered how I’d missed it before.
The Irish Mob.
But…which one?
I waited. The air felt thick. Too warm. I could hear the hum of the building through the walls. I became painfully aware of my own body. My heartbeat was loud in my ears.
“You will be married in a few weeks,” my father said.
The words did not make sense at first. They slid past me without sticking.
“To whom?” I blurted out, forgetting that I shouldn’t ask. A good girl bowed her head and accepted her fate. Mine was sealed the day I was born.
“To my son,” the Irishman smiled. “Liam McDonagh.”
That name rang a bell. Rumors crept slowly through my mind until my whole body jolted with the truth.
The masked man. The burned devil.
“Your son,” I said slowly, looking at the Irish boss.
Because that was what this guest was—a boss. A leader. The man who called the shots and wielded decisions like a blade.
The guest nodded once. “Yes.”
I felt it then. The drop. Like my organs had shifted lower in my body. Like the floor had tilted, and I had not adjusted yet.
I did not speak. I could not trust my voice.
“He is the heir,” Don Morelli added. “This marriage secures peace. Territory. Long term cooperation.”
My chest tightened. The room felt smaller. The edges of my vision blurred just slightly. I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth and inhaled through my nose. Slow. Quiet. I couldn’t panic. I couldn’t let them see it.
I couldn’t let Papa see it.
I winced despite myself. Hurrying to hide the reaction, I cleared my throat. “I am being married to the prince of the Irish mob—the McDonagh Clan.”
No one corrected me.
My father finally looked at me. His eyes were calm. Too calm. “This is good for us.”
Us. Not me.
“And you will not screw this up.” Those words were implied by the glint in his eye.
I nodded. I kept nodding because stopping felt like disobedience. And I knew all too well what came after the act of disobeying.
“In a few weeks,” I repeated.
“Yes,” my father said. “There will be no engagement period. No delays.”
The Irish boss folded his hands on the table. “My son will be informed of your decision tonight.”
Informed. Not asked.
He already knows.
Oh, dio sopra! That was why he’d looked at me. There’d been a split second, where the sharp eyes cut across the restaurant. He’d nodded to Amanda, then…the devil found me.
A thin layer of sweat had formed along my spine. I could feel it under my work uniform. My breath turned shallow now. Like it could not quite reach the bottom of my lungs. I shifted my weight slightly in the chair and crossed my ankles. Small movements. Normal movements.
“Why us?” I asked.
The question slipped out before I could stop it. My father’s jaw tightened. The don glanced at him. The Irish boss watched me with interest.
“You are a strong family,” the Irish boss said. “Respected. Strategic.”
“We are not rich,” I said. “Not like you.”
The room went very quiet.
Why the hell couldn’t I keep my stupid mouth shut? Hadn’t I learned enough lessons over the years? Biting my tongue should have been automatic at this point!
The look Papa gave me promised discipline for the outburst.
I felt exposed. My heartbeat spiked. The panic pressed harder now, climbing my throat, squeezing.
The Irish boss smiled faintly. He looked thoughtfully at me. He didn’t seem mean.
But the best demons hid it well.
“Money is not the only currency,” he drawled. “It’s the right thing for us to do.”
I swallowed. My mouth was dry.
“This alliance means protection,” the don said. “It means the famiglia is safe. Permanently.”
I nodded again. My hands turned numb. That frightened me more than the rest of it.
My father reached across the table and placed his hand over mine. Heavy. Hard. To the others, it probably seemed like a reassurance.
To me? A warning.
Papa’s tone was dry. “This is your duty.”
There it was. The word that ended conversations.
The only thing a daughter was good for in this world.
I forced myself to meet his eyes. For a second, it was all I could do to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. I imagined my body rooted to the floor.
It’s not forever.
It was just a small change in my plans.
“I understand,” I agreed, giving them the answer they wanted.
Papa drew back his hand, but his gaze narrowed. He would force me down that aisle one way or another.
I can do it. I could act like a bride if that was what it took to keep attention off me.
But…it was all happening too soon. My plans weren’t finalized. I didn’t have enough money saved up!
O, dio! What if I was stuck and couldn’t leave? If I couldn’t take the love of my life, my reason for existence, and leave? I would die alone!
The panic surged. My vision tunneled for half a second. I tasted metal at the back of my tongue. I did not move, worried that they would see.
The Irish boss stood. “Then we are agreed.”
The don rose with him. My father stood last.
The meeting was over, and just like that, my future was sealed.
I will not let it be my fate.
As they left the room, I stayed seated for a moment longer. The silence rushed in. My breath came faster now. My hands shook. I curled my fingers into my palms and pressed my nails into my skin until the sensation anchored me.
In a few weeks, I would marry a man I had never met. I would let them bind me to a man born into wealth and power. I would pretend to be happy with a man whose world had somehow decided I belonged in it.
You can do it.
And then…I would run.
I stood, smoothed my slacks, and walked out of the room with my head held high.
No one needed to know I was already breaking. That the freedom I craved had nearly been ripped from my arms. That my broken heart might not have a chance to heal.
“I’ll find a way, Luca,” I promised, pausing to lean my forehead against the sliding door. “We’ll be together. I swear it.”
Stepping out and faced with the bustling night shift, my throat constricted. I was going to cry. Merda! I needed to leave. Tears would raise questions, and I wasn’t in control of my body right now.
I stopped only to tell one of the waitresses that closing was their responsibility tonight. She gave me a strange look, but I didn’t stop to address her confusion. I bolted. The alley enveloped me in a warm embrace.
Hot tears stung my eyes.
Why? Why? Life was cruel. Fate was trying to keep us apart.
“It won’t,” I choked, running through the half-full parking lot. Once on the street, I let the tears stream down my face. “We’ll be together again, I promise.”
But my love didn’t hear me.
The night wind carried my words away—and replaced them with harsher ones. I slowed. Walking past the chain link fence, I hunched down and stared cautiously into the empty, overgrown lot. Two shadows squared off.
I stopped, crouching low.
One of the shadows raised his arm. In the faint light, the glint of a weapon shone. I sucked in a breath, prepared to run. I didn’t need criminals realizing there was a witness. But as I prepared to spring away, something else caught in the muted glow of the night.
The man with the knife wore a mask.
TO BE CONTINUED in Crimson Night Vows