17. Gabriella
17
Gabriella
I ’ve always wanted to be an aunt and I knew my brothers would be wonderful fathers given how they cared for me as a girl ten years younger than them. For a little while there was hope when Michael married Sophia, despite my dislike for the woman. But when Michael learned he was sterile, that hope flew out the window.
So imagine our surprise when Rose reappeared after months claiming her baby boy, Liam, was Michael’s son. Of course there was plenty of doubt, but it only took one look at that little baby to know the truth. He’s a spitting image of his father, with the DiAngelo hazel eyes and the same nose. The only difference is his red hair. A trait he got from his mom.
Michael didn’t need the paternity test to prove Rose right, but Dad did. A necessary evil and something Rose understood. So the next question became…why was Michael told he was sterile? Why did the doctor lie? For the most part, I keep out of my family’s politics, but this was different. Someone intentionally bribed the doctor to lie. They still don’t know who, but my brothers will figure it out. And when they do, God have mercy on the poor bastard’s soul.
But the surprises didn’t stop there. Rose took us all for a loop when she confessed who she really is and her family’s identity. Rosaleen O’Leary or Rose for short. The youngest daughter of Patrick O’Leary, boss of the Irish mob in Miami and member of the High Table trio. Just a year younger than me, Rose survived a deadly car accident at twelve years old that claimed the lives of her mother and little brother. Blinded by grief, Patrick sent her away to go live with his brother in Ireland and that’s where she’s been for the last ten years. I only met her once before, at her mother’s funeral of all places, but it had been through a door. Rose had run off during the wake and yelled at me to go away. I was impressed with her fiery spirit and had she stayed, I think we would have been good friends. I’ve met her older sister, Grace, a handful of times at family functions, but I wouldn’t call us best friends. However, from what I have seen, she is a kind woman recently married to her father’s second, a man named Connor. Oddly enough it was at this wedding where Rose disappeared, which we now know was intentional because she would have just learned about her pregnancy. And since her father had brought her home for the sole purpose of marrying Igor Mikailhov, a man old enough to be her grandfather, I can’t say I blame her for running off to protect her unborn child.
“So, what do you think?” Enzo asks, keeping his deep voice light and quiet since Rose and Liam are asleep nearby on the couch.
“About?”
He nods to the pair. “Them. This. Everything.”
I glance at Rose and how she holds one of Liam’s tiny hands in hers. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’m envious and jealous of the sight. I was a mother who never knew I was until it was too late. And the title was taken from me just as quickly as my baby was. Too young for a heartbeat, too young to know the gender, but my baby all the same. A life created that didn’t get a chance to live.
Sometimes, I dream at night of what kind of life that may have been. A dark-haired boy with bright hazel eyes who would grow up to follow in his mom’s footsteps and become a doctor. Or a little girl with beautiful blue eyes who would be Daddy’s little princess but also kick ass too.
I was angry for a while. And lost. And sad. My emotions were all over the place that school became my anchor to help me refocus among the confusion and numbing pain. I battled with doubt and regret about Dimitri and my actions that night. How I directed my anger and pain at him. Granted, my words were true, but also unnecessary and harsh at the time. The baby was just as much his as it was mine.Instead, I forced an ultimatum on him without giving him a chance to consider anything else before ordering him to leave.
By the time the morning came, I wanted nothing more than to beg him to come back, to apologize and hold me and be there with me through the pain, the rage, the anger, the grief. I called him, but only once. When my call went straight to voicemail, like I had been blocked, I had my answer from Dimitri. He didn't fight back the previous night, like he normally does when we disagree on something, because he didn't care. It was hard, but I eventually accepted the harsh reality that I really had been nothing but a plaything to pass the time at night.Someone he never planned to have a future with.
“I think they’re lucky they found each other,” I answer, my jealousy giving way to admiration. “Back then and now. Love like theirs is rare and special.”
“Yeah.” Enzo sighs. “I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever find something like that.”
I peer over at him with a playful smile. “Have you finally given up on winning your best friend’s little sister over? What happened to our forty-year-old plan?”
The large blond man snorts lightly. “Like you’ll still be single by then. Besides, your brothers would kill me and I rather like being alive. Thank you very much.”
I’m just teasing him. An inside joke between the two of us when Dad first talked about arranging a marriage for me.
“Yeah, you’re right. You’re far too old for me anyway.”
Enzo reaches over and lightly lands a punch to my arm. “This old man can still take you, little girl.”
“You can try. I’m much bigger now and have learned a lot since you were my trainer.”
“Oh yeah? Who have you learned from? Your brothers? They can barely take me down even when they pair up.”
“That’s because you’re the size of a bear and weigh as heavy as one too.”
Enzo pounds his chest proudly. “Viking blood, darling. I’m built from generations of blood and steel.”
I roll my eyes. “Generations of wine and fighting you mean.”
Enzo shrugs. “They go hand in hand.”
Grabbing a blanket, I puff up a decorative pillow and make myself comfortable in between Rose and Enzo. I watch him flip mindlessly through dozens of channels, his ADHD keeping him from staying focused on one for longer than a few minutes. Eventually, the sounds lull me to sleep and I drift off just as he lands on some football game replay.
The elevator’s beeping rings through my dreamless sleep and pulls me awake. Michael must be back. Good. While his couch is insanely comfortable, my bed is more, and I’d like to be in it.
“What the fuck?” Enzo snaps.
My eyes focus on his rigid form and angry expression as he stares in the direction of the elevator.
“Get up.” A voice that doesn’t belong to any member of my family.
“The fuck we will,” Enzo replies.
“Get. Up,” the voice repeats. “Or I will start shooting.”
Enzo meets my eyes before he glances pointedly at my phone, which lies casually by my head. The tall back of the couch blocks me and the device from view, allowing me a precious second to grab it. I have no time to think and instinct guides my fingers. Pressing on Dimitri’s name, I hit dial and slip it in my pocket before standing and turning to our uninvited guests.
“Ah, there you are, Ms. DiAngelo.” Patrick O’Leary and three of his men stand in the foyer with guns drawn and pointed at us. The Irish mob boss gestures with his gun. “Come. Come. We have much to discuss.”
I glance at the other side of the couch, relieved to find Rose and Liam missing, but it also has me concerned about where they are.
Enzo takes my hand and guides me around the couch. The inability to check my phone and see if Dimitri still has me blocked fills me with anxiety; if he does, we’re completely at the mercy of Patrick’s demands.
“Where is my daughter?”
Enzo squeezes my hand, and I stay silent. A mistake.
The piercing sound of a gunshot fills the air, echoing loud in the open space and I instinctively flinch.
“Where is she?”
“Who?” Enzo asks in a sarcastic tone.
“Don’t play dumb with me, boy. My worthless daughter.”
“Oh her? She’s not here,” Enzo replies too casually, and his childish behavior is only making the Irish boss more irritated.
“She’s with Michael,” I blurt out, really hoping her father believes me.
Patrick scratches his head with the barrel of his gun. “See, now I know you’re lying. I know for a fact she’s here.” He levels the gun back down at me. “One more chance.”
I really don’t like having a gun pointed at my face. “You’ve made a big mistake. My father—”
“Your father will be dead by the end of the night or under such a tight leash, he’ll wish he were dead. Now answer the fucking question. Where is Rosaleen?”
His gun shifts to Enzo. The Viking straightens his spine, like he’s daring the man to pull the fucking trigger. And he does.
I scream as Enzo collapses, blood seeping from a wound to his abdomen. I drop to my knees beside him, my hands immediately going to his wound to put pressure on it and stem the bleeding somehow.
“Tell me! Or the next one goes through his fucking head.”
I’m sobbing and my vision is quickly growing blurry because I fear I’m watching my oldest friend die in my arms.
“Stop!” Rose shouts, and I peer over my shoulder at her. She stands in the mouth of the hallway. When our eyes meet, she sees the desperation and pain in mine and rushes over. Kneeling in Enzo’s blood beside me, she places two fingers to his neck and sighs in relief, nodding to me. He’s alive. Thank God.
“Well, well, well. There she is.”
“Dad, stop this. Please,” Rose begs.
“Oh, not before story time,” Patrick answers. “You see, when I heard from a little birdy that my missing daughter was seen shopping with none other than Gabriella DiAngelo and the DiAngelo mutt, you can imagine my surprise because I had sold you. You were no longer my problem. So I did a little digging. Turns out you’re the girl Michael’s been looking for since January. Did the math and sure shit your little bastard son is Michael DiAngelo’s. Seems you finally did something fucking right for once.”
Jesus. The man can fucking talk. I shrug my jacket off, being careful to keep my phone in the pocket and shove it down on Enzo’s wound.
“What do you want?” Rose asks.
“Well, Igor paid a lot of money for you, and I am a man of my word.”
The tension is coming off Rose in waves that even I feel. I place my hand over hers and squeeze, letting her know she has my support.
Patrick waves to one of his men. “Go find the baby.”
Rose flinches, like she wants to run after the man but knows better than to move.
Patrick peers back down at his daughter. “We’ll need to get you cleaned up and changed.”
“For what?” Rose snaps.
“Why your wedding to Igor, of course.”
“I will not marry him.” Her voice shakes with anger and determination, but not fear.
The man returns, carrying a sleeping Liam. He hands him off to Patrick, who smiles down at his grandson like he’s suddenly a prize and not the bastard he originally declared him. “Let me put it this way, Rosaleen.” He looks back at his daughter, a challenge in his dark gaze. “If you do not marry Igor, I will have your friends killed and you will never see your son again.”