Chapter 10 - Gabi
GABI
I’ve been in Boston for two days, back to being a princess in a tower. It’s stifling. I’m still jet-lagged, and after the news of Mother Lucia, everybody seems to walk on eggshells around me, as if I, too, will crack with the merest pressure.
And I crack, often, in the privacy of my room where nobody sees me. Outside, the mask is always slipped on, but when I’m alone, the weight of it all gets to me.
The grief is so consuming that I force myself not to think of her passing.
Sitting here, I can still believe she’s back in Potenza, living her everyday life.
I force myself to think of something else, mainly of how to get away.
I’m even more at a loss than in Italy, despite now having a passport, access to family funds via a credit card Matteo organized for me, and a driver and a bodyguard to take me anywhere my heart desires.
I’m no fool. Disappearing, in my books, means without a trace. Everything they’ve put in place leaves a trace.
It’s five in the morning, and I’m awake, staring at the ceiling—again.
I can’t hide here the whole day. At some point, Tasha or Ariana will knock on my door, or Rosalia, Matteo’s housekeeper, will bring me breakfast on a tray.
Princess indeed. I’ve never been waited on like this, and it makes my life feel wasted.
At least in Potenza, until I was forced into hiding, I had a job I loved.
Children to care and hope for, who needed silly laughs and stories and hugs, the only armor we have against life’s cuts and bruises.
I slip out of bed, feet touching the plush cream carpet, and pad over to the bedroom door.
I turn the knob slowly, not wanting to make any noise in this echo chamber of an apartment.
As the door inches open, low male voices sound from the kitchen, drifting up to me where I’m hovering in the doorway.
I hesitate to step out into the corridor overlooking the open-concept lower floor, because whoever is in the kitchen will see me.
I haven’t been on the run for fifteen years without learning some things. I lean slightly back but prick my ears to better hear Matteo’s and Dominic’s voices.
“Fuck, Matty, I didn’t plan to stay longer. I can’t. I need to check in with the office—”
“Yeah, I get it,” Matteo responds, as the coffee machine gurgles.
“Maybe you do, but what I really want is to head out to my place with Ariana. It’s been a while since I’ve been there, and we need to pick Bruno up at the old Don’s house, so—”
“Bruno? You’re fetching Bruno? To stay with you?”
“Yeah, kinda got attached to the little fucker while I was staying there.”
“Sounds like you’re fucking settling, old man,” Matteo says with a smirk in his tone.
“Look who’s talking. You’re much more pleasant to be round with now that you get laid all the time. Just look there, right there, a fucking hickey the size of a—”
“Don’t touch, bro, just don’t.” A slap sounds, and they both laugh.
I blush at those last sentences, but they tickle me, too.
I smile. My brothers are kinda cute and human when they razz each other.
They care a lot for each other. This was our mother’s work, and how they are with each other reflects her love.
How they treat me and their wives is even a stronger reflection of how she raised them, quietly overriding everything our father was in his lifetime.
They’re everything I described in my fairy tale: courageous, protective, brave, loyal, and ready to make sacrifices for what they believe in, for those they love.
I can almost forget they’re Mafia and have probably killed people amongst other crimes.
I’ve heard about Bruno, and that they can care for animals immediately places them outside the monster zone.
It’s a relief that at least Ariana and Dominic have someone else to fuss and worry over.
I hate being the center of everybody’s attention.
“What’re we going to do about Petrov?” Matteo asks then.
My heart skips a beat. The Russian he mentioned two days ago.
“Our house is fucking clean, Matty.” Dominic grunts as a cup clinks softly on the marble counter. “I have no idea how he knows—”
“Well, we’re going to have to figure it out because Petrov demands a meeting, in person, in New York, saying he wants to meet our little sister.”
My blood seems to drain to my feet. How does some random Russian know about my existence?
A cold rush of fear runs down my back and I grip the doorjamb. What if it’s my Russian? Impossible.
But if Mother Lucia broke under torture and gave my location away, he could be looking for me here. The possibility makes it feel as if I’m sitting on a ticking time bomb, but with no idea how many minutes I have left before it explodes.
I need to get out.
“Fuck. I dunno. Someone’s been talking, or we’re being watched.”
“She hasn’t left the apartment, Nicky. And we know we’re being watched.”
“Hmm. We weren’t exactly careful when we got off the flight the other day. Once we left Italy, there didn’t seem to be a reason to hide her.”
Except they had every reason I haven’t shared, and this can’t be random at all.
“Why does he want to meet her?”
“Apparently, he needs a nanny for his kids.”
“You got to be kidding me. Show me the email,” Dominic says.
For a minute, it’s quiet as they sip their coffees, Dominic obviously on Matteo’s phone reading this Petrov’s email. My Russian won’t have small kids. Or would he? He must be in his seventies by now. I have no idea. I don’t even recall his name, but it wasn’t Petrov. That’s an easy name to recall.
“Read between the lines, bro,” Dominic says.
My curiosity piqued, I’m reckless. I step out of the door into the corridor and peek at them over the railing. Dominic is handing Matteo’s phone back.
“Yeah, I have, and I’m not doing that.” Matteo shakes his head. “Fuck, what kind of Don would I be?”
“A better Don than the previous one. Look what the fuck he did with her.”
Then Matteo glances up, and I meet his gaze. I’m not surprised. This apartment is weird this way. It’s like you can follow everybody’s movements with eyes in the back of your head.
“Woke up with glowing ears and just knew someone was talking about me,” I say, keeping things light.
“Well, fuck us, I suppose,” Dominic mutters under his breath, but I hear him.
“Gabi. Just in time for a coffee?” Matteo says.
I make my way down the stairs, reminding myself I’m the good Catholic convent girl.
It doesn’t take much as I’m already shy, being in my pajamas.
At least it has long sleeves, long pants, is made from dark blue cotton, and I have a tank top on underneath with a built-in bra just in case.
For the life of me, I couldn’t slip into any of the skimpy silk shorts and camisoles Gigi and Ariana suggested in Lake Como when we did some online shopping.
When Stephano saw my purchases, he let slip that I forgot to get the hazmat suit.
They don’t get it. The last thing I want is to attract attention to me, my body, or even being a woman.
“Cappuccino?” Matteo asks when I reach them where they’re standing by the kitchen island.
“Yes, please.” I slip onto one of the barstools.
Dominic’s eyes are on me, and I know what he sees. Someone not ready to go out into the world. Someone who needs to be saved. Someone who can’t fight dragons. I’ve played the sweet innocent to perfection.
“Who’s Petrov?” I ask point-blank, not wasting time.
After two days of brewing ideas, I haven’t gotten any further with an escape plan.
Taking a job as a live-in nanny to remove myself from my brothers and their wives would be first prize, provided this guy isn’t my psycho Russian.
It would only be temporary, until I have money of my own—cold hard cash not linked to my brothers—and can figure out how to buy myself a new identity and then really disappear without a trace.
“Ivan Petrov,” Dominic says as he opens the fridge and pulls out a fruit salad. “He’s our next-door neighbor, so to speak. The Petrovs have ruled the ports of New York, New Jersey, and some other things for decades.”
Relief spreads warm over my body. New York is far enough from Boston, and if Mother Lucia gave away that I’m in Boston, it will prove to be a dead end.
This Petrov sounds local, entrenched in the States for years.
If only I could have a visual of him to confirm he isn’t my Russian…
but by the sound of things, there’ll be time for that.
At least Dominic isn’t talking to me like I’m a child, oblivious to the world we’re from and what it entails.
During my stay in Lake Como, he dropped several hints as to Il Consiglio’s businesses and assets.
He must have a sixth sense for this type of thing because I don’t know how he figured it out, but from our first meeting, Dominic treated me as if he knew exactly what I went through since I got torn from this family.
Except he has no clue, and so far, nobody has asked. My nightmares haven’t surfaced, and I’m planning to keep things that way.
“Surely not Mafia?” I ask, wanting to know more.
“Bratva.” Matteo pushes a large cup my way, soft whipped milk floating like a cloud on top. “Our territories don’t overlap, and we don’t trade in the same things, so we live in peaceful harmony with each other. Like grizzlies in winter.”
“In hibernation?” I say with a small smile. “What’s happened to wake you all up, hungry for a fight?”
“Told you she’s sharp,” Dominic says as he slices his gaze to Matteo then shoots me a wink.
Matteo gives a dry chuckle. “Long story—”
Not for our little sister’s innocent ears, I finish the sentence in my head. “He needs a nanny? You know I’m qualified?” Not as Gabriella Scalera but nobody is going to ask for paperwork from the online course I did. “And I worked at the church’s kindergarten in Potenza—”
“Gabi,” Matteo says, finality in his voice. “There’s no way in hell we’ll let you go work for Ivan Petrov, the Bratva Pakhan, in New York.”
But it’s a way out I didn’t see coming and there couldn’t be a quicker, cleaner solution.
“I want to.” I take a careful sip of my cappuccino, meeting my brothers’ stunned gazes over the rim of my cup.
When I’m done, I glide my tongue over the milky froth on my lip, probably looking five years old, but stare at Matteo in a silent dare.
I’ll have to force my way into this scheme, and the only power I have is my reasoning.
“I’m not used to sitting around idly. Tasha has her studies, Dominic has plans with his company for Ariana.
Gigi is resurrecting her art auction business from whatever happened to it over the summer.
” I shrug with a small sigh, putting on my best act.
“I’m not made for any type of corporate job, least of all the one you’d be able to offer me, Matteo.
I know, without even asking, that you won’t let me into anything you do, because the less I know, the better.
” I swallow. The next bit isn’t an act at all.
“I need to keep busy, to get my mind off how Mother Lucia…” I bite my lip to keep my tears in check.
“I’m in a tailspin, and sitting around doing nothing isn’t helping. ”
Dominic reaches for me and squeezes my arm. He met Mother Lucia. He would understand. “I know.”
With a nod, I hook stray strands of hair behind my ear. This is do or die. I need to get out of here to keep them safe.
“I know kids. I love kids,” I say, wiping at a rogue tear. “I need to find my feet and start a new life. Let’s meet with Petrov and if, in the process, I can make your little grizzly headache go away, it’s a win-win, isn’t it?”
I tried to make light of the situation, and for a long moment, it’s quiet as Matteo’s jaw twitches and Dominic just stares at me with a frown furrowing his brow.
“Huh. Win-win, hey? The old Pakhan has retired, and I’m still not sure what the hell went down there over the past months,” Matteo says, shaking his head. “Never mind that it’ll basically be an admission of guilt, but I’m not comfortable for you to go and nanny—”
“As a nanny?” I say, the guilt part going over my head. “I’ll be looking after his kids. The most precious people in his life!”
This makes Matteo shift on his feet with a sigh.
“Personally, I’d love to know how they got intel on us—on you being here specifically,” Dominic says as he picks a strawberry out of the fruit salad and pops it into his mouth, his gaze drilling into mine.
Matteo rolls his eyes. “You can’t ask Gabi to go spy for us, Nicky.”
I smirk. Me, a spy? I’m running-away fit, not fit for infiltrating some kingpin’s mansion as a nanny to steal state secrets.
“Not spy as such. Just have a look-see what’s happening in his household. Could be interesting. Could be useful. Could be a game-changer long term.”
I want to sigh in relief for finding an ally in Dominic of all people for my crazy scheme.
“Let’s meet with him and hear what he has to say? Let me meet his kids.” Watching a nanny interact with his children is the only way to seal the deal. “And everybody’s been saying I need to see New York, so it won’t be a wasted trip.”
Dominic chuckles as he elbows Matteo. “See, she’s persuasive, too.”