Chapter 10 Gabriella
GAbrIELLA
I slip into my waiting car with a smile.
Victory tastes sweet, even when served with a side of Marco's scowling face.
The compromise isn't perfect, but it's better than being shipped off to Italy like excess baggage.
Plus, it keeps me close to my father where I can protect him.
My feelings of triumph falter as my mind circles back to Marco's face when I suggested staying at his home.
For a moment, I saw something other than indifference or irritation.
I know there’s more to Marco than he lets on.
There's something in him, a wounded, neglected part, that craves connection, even as he pushes everyone away.
He’s always seemed like a man who needed someone in his life to love him.
There was a time last year when I thought I might be that person.
There’d been rare moments when his walls came down, when I caught glimpses of the man beneath the Don.
I realize now that even if I hadn’t misunderstood his discussion with Roman, Marco isn’t going to let me or anyone else get close enough to love him.
I remind myself that this arrangement isn’t about rekindling anything or fixing Marco.
It's about protecting my father.
But I have to admit, this situation will be difficult.
Living with Marco means constant proximity to the one man who makes my defenses crumble.
The one man who can hurt me by simply existing in the same space.
I remind myself that I’m still not convinced that Marco is innocent.
My father believes Marco is helping him, and maybe he is, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t see it as a way to take advantage.
The evidence could be proof of his help or his slow infiltration.
But what if I was wrong about what I overheard?
I remember his face when I accused him of plotting against my father.
For a moment, there was something that looked like pain.
Marco Calabresi, the fortress of a man who never shows vulnerability, looked wounded by my lack of faith in him.
Or I thought he did, but perhaps that was wishful thinking because it was gone in a flash, replaced by that callous indifference Marco always sports.
If I misjudged him so completely, I've wasted a year we could have had together.
A year when I could have been helping my father in partnership with Marco rather than working against him.
A year in which maybe Marco might have let me in.
Guilt and regret form in my gut.
One home, I go to my room to pack my suitcase, telling myself that this situation will give me a chance to find out whether I really am wrong about Marco.
I’ll be able to see the truth about him and his intentions toward my family.
Whether I've been right or catastrophically wrong, I'll soon find out.
I move to my bathroom, gathering my toiletries into a small bag.
I zip it closed and toss it into my suitcase, mentally checking off what else I need.
It’s only a week, so I don’t need much.
A soft knock interrupts my thoughts.
My father stands in the doorway.
"Marco called. He suggested an alternative to sending you to Luca’s by staying with him.” He frowns with confusion as he glances at my suitcase. “Did I tell you already?”
I feel terrible for adding to his confusion. “No. I… ah… I was thinking of taking a trip out of town…”
“Yes, well, I’ve arranged for you to stay with Marco.” He lifts his hand as if he expects me to balk. “I know it’s not what you want, but it’s better than going to Italy or getting married, right?”
“Right.” I act annoyed for his benefit.
He sits on the edge of my bed. “I probably indulged you too much, Gabriella—”
“No you didn’t. You respected me. Treated me as a person, not an object.”
“I've always wanted to protect you from this life, Gabriella. Even while indulging your interest in it."
I sit beside him. "I know, but I'm not a little girl anymore."
He takes my hand, his grip frailer than I remember. "No, you're not, but this world we live in…” He sighs. "Be careful with Marco. I trust him, but he's not a man who tolerates disobedience or disloyalty. If you're going to live under his roof, you need to follow his rules."
"I know how to handle Marco," I say confidently.
My father squeezes my hand. "This isn't a game, Gabriella. Marco may respect me, but that respect won't automatically extend to you. Give him one reason to doubt your loyalty, and this arrangement will end badly."
His concern touches me, but I can't help feeling a flicker of annoyance. "I'm not going to do anything stupid. I just want to help protect our family."
“I love you for that.” He pats my hand and then rises. “Be smart, Gabriella.”
After my father leaves, I sit on my bed, staring at my half-packed suitcase.
This is the right move, I’m sure of it.
Getting close to Marco, learning what he knows, protecting my father from whatever threats are circling our family.
If Marco is truly helping my father as they both claim, then we can work together.
I zip up my suitcase and then go to my desk, gather up a year's worth of notes, photos, and documents, my personal investigation into Marco Calabresi and the troubles plaguing our family business.
I flip through pages of observations, connections, and theories I've developed since overhearing that damning conversation.
Some of it looks paranoid now, colored by hurt and betrayal.
But other pieces still don't add up.
The timing of certain problems in my father's businesses.
The convenient solutions Marco always seems to have ready.
The FBI agent's interest in Marco, specifically.
Someone is targeting the Monti family.
Maybe it's Marco.
Maybe it's someone using him.
Maybe it's someone working against all of La Corona.
Whatever the truth, I'll find it.
Living under Marco's roof might be dangerous to my heart, but it's the best chance I have to protect what matters most.
I finish packing and head downstairs to leave it by the front door.
I pause at the living room.
My father sits in his leather chair, staring into the dancing flames of the fireplace.
"I’m about ready," I say softly, not wanting to startle him.
He turns, blinking as if emerging from a dream.
His eyes focus on me, then drift to my suitcase.
A smile spreads across his face, but something about it feels disconnected, like he's operating on autopilot.
"Hot date?" he asks with a wink.
My heart stutters.
He's forgotten our conversation from just twenty minutes ago.
Forgotten that I'm going to stay with Marco.
Forgotten why.
I force a smile, deciding not to correct him. "Something like that."
"Don't stay out too late," he says, turning back to the fire. "Your mother will worry. She's out Christmas shopping, you know. Always leaves everything to the last minute."
I close my eyes as pain fills my chest.
My mother has been gone for nearly ten years now.
And while my father is here, I can feel him slipping away.
This is why I need to stay in New York.
He needs me, even if he doesn't realize it.
Even if Marco thinks I'm nothing but trouble.
I cross the room and press a kiss to my father’s forehead. "I love you."
"Love you too, cara mia," he murmurs, patting my hand. "Tell Frank to bring the car around for your date."
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
Whatever it takes, whatever price I have to pay to protect him, I’ll pay it.
Even if it means living with the one man who broke my heart.
Frank waits for me by the front door, car keys in hand, his weathered face creased with concern.
"You sure about this?" he asks as he takes my suitcase. "Moving into Calabresi's home is like walking into the lion's den."
I follow him to the car, watching as he places my luggage in the trunk.
Frank has been my father's right hand for as long as I can remember, steady, loyal, protective.
"I'm not sure about anything anymore," I admit as I slide into the back seat. "But I need to be close to whatever's happening."
Frank settles behind the wheel, his eyes finding mine in the rearview mirror. "That’s what’s concerning. If Calabresi isn’t on the up and up, that could be dangerous."
“This is the only way I can stay and see for myself what he’s really doing.”
"And if he is working against your father?"
"Then I'll have proof, and I'll stop him." I don’t know how, but I will.
Frank shakes his head. "These aren't games. If Marco discovers you're spying on him—"
"I know the risks." I lean forward, placing my hand on his shoulder. "But I need your help, Frank. You know more than anyone what’s going on in my father’s business.”
He nods slowly. "I'll keep you informed. Just be careful what you share with me. Calabresi has ears everywhere."
"I will." I settle back against the leather seat. "I know what I'm doing."
But do I?
I should be afraid of Marco Calabresi.
He's dangerous, powerful, capable of terrible things.
Yet fear isn't what makes my heart race when I think of living under his roof.
It's something more complicated, more treacherous.
"We're here," Frank announces, pulling up to Marco’s home. “You can change your mind.”
I stare at the sprawling building, remembering last year running out of Marco's office, filled with anger and hurt.
Now I'm voluntarily walking back in.
"I'll be fine," I tell Frank, though I'm not sure whether I'm reassuring him or myself. "I know how to handle Marco."
Frank gives me a long look. "Just remember who you are. You're Antonio Monti's daughter. Don't let Calabresi make you forget that."
Whatever awaits me inside, whatever games Marco intends to play, I'm ready.
My feelings for him may be unresolved, but my purpose is clear.
Protect our family, discover the truth.
Even if that truth destroys what remains of my heart.