Chapter 1 #2
In the hierarchy of the Cosa Nostra, Michael ranks closer to the bottom than the top—working as muscle rather than brains.
If it were up to him, he probably would have married me off at eighteen.
But there are certain expectations in our world, and Michael is far too vain about his image to buck tradition.
It’s considered distasteful to marry your daughter off without at least some education.
Fortunately for me, someone reached out to let my family know a college fund had been discovered.
Apparently, my paternal grandfather kept an account to cover my education, and nobody ever knew about it.
Michael didn’t have to pay a cent, and there was even enough to cover my off-campus apartment.
This way, I only have to see my family on specific occasions, which are few and far between.
It’s a system that’s worked for all of us, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. But with the school year already started, I’m unlikely to find another place in the same price range.
As I’m trying to think of another alternative, Angelo ends his call and returns to our group. Tension lingers in his features as his dark gaze falls on me.
“Gabi, we’ll help you gather what you need for tonight. I’ll send someone to get the rest of your things in the morning.”
Panic flares at the realization that he’s probably taking me back to my family.
“I haven’t told my stepfather yet,” I blurt. “I don’t know if he wants me there.”
“We’ll take you to the penthouse tonight,” Angelo says. “I’ll talk to Michael and let him know you’ll be staying there for the rest of the school year.”
A shaky breath escapes me as I consider the generous offer. It would be an ideal situation, but I’ve spent my entire life feeling like a burden, and it isn’t easy for me to accept help.
“I don’t want to impose,” I answer softly.
“You aren’t,” Abella assures me. “We hardly ever use it, and even if we do need it, there’s plenty of space for all of us.”
That much is true. The Vitales own properties around the world, but their primary residence is a private island outside Seattle. They only ever use the penthouse when they’re in the city for events that run late, and it’s easier to stay the night.
“Don’t overthink it.” Abella rises and gestures for me to join her. “We’ll get you some clothes and toiletries, and Angelo will take care of everything else.”
I nod at her, grateful that she’s here right now. Abella knows me better than anyone, and though we’re family, we’ve always been best friends too.
People have often confused us for sisters because we share similar features.
We both have black hair, green eyes, and short statures, but there are a few notable differences between us.
Abella’s complexion is more olive than mine, and while I have dimples and freckles, she doesn’t.
I prefer a layered mid-length cut with wispy bangs, and Abella’s hair is long, dipping all the way down to the small of her back.
She’s always been my biggest cheerleader and fiercest protector.
For a few years, her mother took care of me, and I spent most of my summers and breaks with them after that.
She knows how tense the situation is with my family, but she would never offer me her help out of pity.
Her motives are always pure, and I know they come from a place of love.
For that reason, I go along with it as she leads me to the elevator, the men trailing behind us.
Twenty minutes later, the four of us emerge from the building with a few bags and all of my bedding.
A sleek black Vitale car idles at the curb as Angelo loads the trunk.
When he shifts one of the bags and notices the giant stuffed teddy bear poking out, I can’t help feeling a little embarrassed.
I tried to hide it, but it’s not an easy task.
I just hope he doesn’t recognize it—or more importantly, remember who won it for me. Unfortunately, Abella gives it away when she shoots me a look.
“I use it as a body pillow,” I answer defensively. “It’s comfortable.”
Sadness creeps into her features as she nods, and my throat tightens as I look away.
Searching for a distraction, I glance at a flickering street light across the parking lot. It’s still early evening, but fall seems to have officially settled over Seattle as darkness descends earlier each day.
A lone figure leans against one of the concrete pillars near the parking garage, smoke curling in the air around him. His features are hidden by the shadows, but I can tell he’s watching us.
Every time I see a man with no discernible face, it reminds me of Eros415. There have been moments I’ve wondered how often I’ve crossed his path on campus without even realizing it. If I did, I wouldn’t know it. He’s seen my picture, but all I know of him is a Ghostface mask and a username.
Maybe that should have been a red flag, but admittedly, I’m pretty sure I have a horror kink, and Ghostface is my favorite.
Between dark romance books, scary movies, and an insatiable curiosity—I’ve gone down the internet rabbit hole and discovered a whole underworld where danger and desire collide.
It doesn’t make much sense, considering I have the survival instincts of a gazelle.
Regardless, I’ve felt myself being pulled deeper into this predator-and-prey dynamic after Eros415 found me on a university Discord server where I didn’t belong.
I’d left a comment on a thread about shark conservation, and his name popped up in my DMs a minute later.
Why is an Apparel Design major lurking in the Bio server? You have a thing for apex predators, Gabriela?
His message made me smile, and the fact that he was into sharks and scary movies sent a tiny thrill through me. There weren’t too many people who wanted to listen to me ramble on about my special interests. But he seemed to like the same things.
Since that night, we’ve messaged every day, and over time, I’ve become a little too comfortable with him. Somehow, he’s dismantled my armor like a skilled surgeon, excising my secrets one by one.
I’ve told him things I haven’t told anyone else. My fears, my desires, and some of my most depraved fantasies.
In this slow-burning chess match, he’s established himself as the dominant one, and I’ve willfully surrendered to his power.
There’s something addictive about the way he talks to me. He’s sarcastic, protective, and has a dark sense of humor. But as time has gone on, I’ve realized he knows far more about me than I know about him.
They aren’t obvious details, but he seems to know me better than texts alone should allow.
He anticipates my feelings, answers my unspoken questions, and understands the parts of me I keep hidden.
He notices every hesitation, and he can sense when I’m overwhelmed, even when I don’t say anything about it.
In a way, it feels like he’s reading my body language, and it’s left me with a lingering question I haven’t been able to shake.
Maybe he isn’t just messaging me.
He could be watching me too.
As if he can read my thoughts, my phone chimes with the familiar sound of a Discord notification.
“Miss Bianchi.”
I startle at the sound of Julian’s voice, and when I turn around, I see he’s holding the car door open for me.
“Oh. Yes, thank you,” I mutter awkwardly, sliding onto the backseat while Abella gets in on the other side.
I unlock my phone and glance at the new message.
Eros415: Tell me about your day, little shark.
I’m not sure what it is that makes me glance out the window, but when I do, the lone figure has disappeared into the night.
A weird feeling settles over me as I stare at my keyboard, typing out and erasing three different responses. But in the end, I send none of them, because Abella leans over, trying to get a peek at my screen.
“Who are you talking to?”
“Nobody.” I close the Discord app, feigning indifference as I scroll through my text messages.
There’s nothing new, but I can’t help noticing the last time I texted Abella was a few days ago. I never asked her to come to my apartment today, so how did she know?
When I meet her gaze, she gives me a conspiratorial smile, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Is it…you know?”
“You know who?” Angelo assesses us in the rearview mirror.
“Nobody.” Abella rolls her eyes at her husband’s protectiveness before she rushes to offer me her reassurances. “Don’t worry. He won’t say anything.”
Angelo exchanges a glance with Julian. Every man in the Cosa Nostra takes it upon themselves to look out for us, and if he were any other man, I might be worried that he’d tell Michael.
But Abella trusts him implicitly, so I believe her when she says he won’t rat me out—even if it technically goes against his code.
Still, it’s not something I should be advertising, and we all know it.
“Hey, can I see your phone for a second?” I ask Abella.
“Sure.” She gives me a curious look.
After she hands it over, I pull up her text messages and frown when I see the one she mentioned. It’s in our text thread, and it was sent this afternoon…before I even got home from school.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I force a smile as I hand the phone back to her. “I’ll tell you about it later.”