Chapter 1 #2
“It’s Santa,” Leo says, thrilled to receive it even though he’s not really her grandfather. “Tell her I love it.”
Antonio arrives, and I hope to hell that he’ll remember everything and be able to articulate his thoughts perfectly today.
If not, I hope he doesn’t call me by my father’s name again.
I stop short when Gabriella enters the meeting room.
She's wearing a tailored charcoal suit that screams power and competence, her hair swept up in a sleek knot.
I shove my hands in my pockets when they itch to pull the pins of that knot and run my fingers through her hair.
She meets my gaze for a half-second before deliberately shifting her attention to Dom and Leo.
The dismissal stings and it pisses me off.
"Gentlemen," Antonio announces, his voice still carrying that commanding presence despite everything. "You remember Gabriella. She’s been doing legal work for me."
I watch the ripple of discomfort travel through the room.
La Corona has existed for generations on tradition.
Women don't sit at this table, not even ones with law degrees and minds sharper than most of the men here.
Gabriella stands tall beside her father, hand resting protectively on his arm.
The gesture isn't lost on me.
She's marking her territory, showing everyone she's his guardian now.
She's magnificent in her defiance. I hate how much I admire it.
"Antonio," Leo starts, his tone carefully measured, "perhaps Ms. Monti would be more comfortable in the living room? This is a meeting for family heads."
“Is Roman staying?” she asks.
“Only if I ask him to,” I say.
“Well, he’s not a family head and my father asked me to join him.”
"My daughter is family," Antonio replies firmly, though I catch the slight confusion that flickers across his features, a momentary uncertainty about why this is even being questioned.
No doubt, Gabriella has talked him into believing she can be an asset.
She probably could be, but… well… tradition.
Gabriella steps forward. "I've been handling the legal aspects of the businesses for years. I believe I can contribute to today's discussion."
"With all due respect," Dom interjects with indignation, "there are matters we discuss that aren't meant for—"
"For women?" Gabriella finishes, arching an eyebrow. "Or for people who understand corporate law better than you do, Don Vitale?"
I suppress a smirk. She never did know when to back down.
Dom glances at Antonio, clearly expecting him to chastise Gabriella for her disrespect.
Antonio shifts uncomfortably, glancing between his daughter and the other Dons.
Everyone knows that he’s given Gabriella more independence than most Mafia daughters are given, but even he knows that in this situation, she's pushing boundaries.
At least I hope he does. His mind is slipping way too quickly.
"Perhaps," Antonio says, clearing his throat, "Gabriella could share the quarterly reports and then—"
"I'm staying for the entire meeting, Dad." Her voice is gentle but firm.
The other Dons exchange looks.
This isn't just about tradition anymore.
It's about respect.
A daughter publicly overriding her father's authority undermines him in front of his peers.
Antonio has his wits about him enough today to know that. His discomfort grows visible.
I’m probably an asshole for this, but if things with Gabriella were different, I might support her joining meetings as needed the way Roman does or other underbosses and captains sometimes do.
Hell, last year, Roman’s wife Isabella, Leo’s daughter, came to a meeting, but only as part of Roman’s report about unsavory business with one of my captains who turned out to be a traitor.
But instead of supporting her staying for Antonio’s reports, I stay silent.
“I have a few questions of Don Calabresi while I’m here as well.” Her sharp eyes focus on me.
“This should be interesting,” I say, infusing humor into my voice as a way to dismiss her questions as unimportant.
She doesn't blink, doesn't back down. "We've noticed increased Calabresi presence along our borders. Men watching our shipments, monitoring our schedules."
It's a direct accusation. In front of everyone.
If Dom and Leo knew of all I was doing to protect Antonio, that wouldn’t be a problem.
But they don’t know.
And now she’s accusing me of betraying another member of La Corona.
"Gabriella," Antonio murmurs, shifting with discomfort.
"No, let her continue." I cross my arms, daring her to come after me. "I'm curious what exactly you're implying, Ms. Monti."
She lifts her chin. "I'm not implying anything, Don Calabresi. I'm stating that I don't trust your intentions toward my father's territory."
"Gabriella!" Antonio's voice rises sharply.
I hold up a hand. "It's fine, Antonio." My eyes never leave hers. "Ms. Monti is entitled to her… suspicions. Unfounded as they may be."
Her expression doesn't waver.
The distrust there is complete, unwavering.
It shouldn't hurt this much.
But it does.
I've built my life on being unreadable. Inscrutable.
It's kept me alive, kept me strong.
No one sees past the mask, not even Roman most days.
So no one in this room sees how her words slice through me.
“Do they know?” She nods toward the other Dons. “Do they know you’re trying to steal from my father?”
Antonio shakes his head. “Marco, I—”
“It’s okay, Antonio. Once again, a daughter of La Corona is accusing me of something.”
Antonio’s head snaps up, and I know he now fears for Gabrialla.
Her disrespect should be punished and he knows it.
Last year, Isabella accused me of murdering her mother.
I resolved that with her father, Leo, by arranging a marriage between her and Roman so Roman could keep an eye on her and find out why she’d think such a thing.
“I have proof.”
Antonio turns to her. “Gabriella, you need to stop.”
“No—”
“Listen to your father,” I warn her.
I don’t say more, waiting for her to finally recognize the error of her ways.
Every eye in the room is on me.
"Don Calabresi—" she starts, but I cut her off with a raised hand.
"Ms. Monti, you need to leave." I hold her gaze, keeping my voice level despite the storm raging inside me.
Antonio shifts again. "Marco, perhaps we could—"
"No, Antonio." My tone softens slightly for my old friend but remains firm. "La Corona has protocols. Traditions. They exist for a reason."
I nod to Carlo, one of my security men stationed by the door.
He steps forward, not threatening, but a clear signal that I'm serious.
Gabriella's cheeks flush with anger. "You can't just—"
"I can," I interrupt. "And I am."
Carlo opens the door, a silent invitation for her exit.
"This is ridiculous," she hisses. "Dad, tell them…"
Antonio looks torn, glancing between his daughter and the other Dons.
I can see the struggle on his face, wanting to support her but knowing the rules.
"Gabriella," he says gently, "perhaps it would be best if you waited outside."
"I'm not going anywhere." Her voice doesn't quaver. "Not while you're discussing my father's business."
The other Dons look from her to Antonio, clearly expecting him to be more forceful.
This standoff is unprecedented, a woman challenging a Don directly in front of the entire council.
It's more than disrespect. It's a direct challenge to Antonio’s authority and mine, since we're in my house.
My gaze never leaves her as I speak, my voice soft but laced with warning. "Perhaps I wasn't clear, Ms. Monti." I step toward her. "You're in my house now. My territory. My rules."
Her eyes flash with anger, but I catch something else there too, a flicker of uncertainty.
Good. She should be uncertain.
"This is a meeting of La Corona," she counters, "not your personal fiefdom."
"This is my house. I decide who stays and who goes."
She doesn't back down, but she swallows hard. "You can't just—"
"I can. And I will." I cut her off. "You have exactly thirty seconds to leave this room with your dignity intact, or I'll have you removed."
Antonio steps toward me. "Marco—"
I hold up a hand, silencing him without taking my eyes off Gabriella.
"Your daughter is disrespecting me in my own house, Antonio. Would you allow that in yours?"
He sinks back. “No. And I apologize for my daughter.”
“Don’t apologize for me!” she snaps.
Her heated gaze bores into me. I’m sure she wishes she could vaporize me. "You wouldn't dare toss me out."
I turn slightly, nodding to Carlo. "Escort Ms. Monti out. Now."
Carlo steps forward, professional and impassive. "This way, please, Ms. Monti."
She looks at me with such hatred, it’s hard to believe I once thought she might love me.
That I might have once loved her.