Married to the mafia boss Series

Arabella

I wake up with a sickening feeling in stomach. Today is the day I’m traveling to Italy. Who knows what is in store for me?

When my feet hit the bottom step, I immediately smell whatever delicious breakfast Rocco’s cook-Lia has made. Before making my way into the kitchen, I notice my fully packed suitcases have already been brought down and are waiting by the elevator to be carried out to the car.

I try to suppress the bile rising up my throat and the panic attack coming on. I don’t want to think about the flight. I don’t want to think about leaving. I decide the let the smell lure me into the kitchen where Lia is making my favorite breakfast-blueberry pancakes with lots of whipped cream.

Rocco is already awake and sitting at the dining room table, scrolling through whatever he’s doing on his phone. He looks up briefly to smile and say, “Good morning.”

I return the gesture with a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. How can I be happy when I’m forced to leave the place I was born and the place I love?

Lia brings two plates into the dining room, setting a plate for me and a plate for Rocco. We both grab our silverware and enjoy our fair share of my going-away pancakes. Rocco seems to be in a better mood than he was when we visited Liliana. He blamed it on not being able to locate Samuel and the rest, but something else seems to be bothering him.

Being back to his old self this morning, he cracks a few jokes that make me smile but also make my heart hurt. I want to stay. I want to hear Rocco’s jokes when I wake up and go to Liliana’s when I want a girls day. I love the Chicago rain and the busy city traffic.

It’s hard to enjoy the scrumptious pancakes when the bile rising refuses to go away. I feel nauseous and I can hardly get any air in my lungs. I want to cry out at how unfair this is. I don’t want to leave my friends. Even if this isn’t a permanent situation, I will still be gone for months. Mother said Lazzaro wants me there because he misses me and has things for me to do-whatever that means.

“Your mother wants you to call her before you leave,” Rocco stabs a piece of pancake and shoves it in his mouth.

“When exactly am I leaving?” I gulp.

Rocco checks the Rolex on his wrist and says, “You should be at the airport in about an hour and a half.”

“Are you taking me?”

He shakes his head. “Can’t. I have work to do. My driver will make sure you get there safe.”All content is © N0velDrama.Org.

“Okay,” I say quietly. I sink in my chair feel meek and out of control. Maybe if I make myself small enough I’ll disappear and no one will be able to find me or force me to go.

I look down at my plate to see there’s only a few bites left of my breakfast, but I push the plate aside and excuse myself. The rest of my appetite just isn’t there anymore.

Knowing I’ll have to do it sooner or later, I pull out my phone as I walk upstairs to my room for privacy and dial my mother’s phone number.

“Bella!” She answers with enthusiasm. “Today’s the day! Aren’t you excited? You must give Laz a kiss from me and kiss my grandson! He will be waiting for you at the airport and he has a place where you will stay.”

“Yes, Mama,” I say monotone.

“Darling, would you cheer up? You’re going to Italy! How I miss everything about that country. This will be a perfect fresh start for you. You get to leave behind all that bad juju you’ve had since Vinny’s death.”

“Will I ever come back?” I ask breathlessly as I can barely get the words out. I don’t even know if I want to hear the answer.

“Of course, Laz will let you visit us all.”

“Visit? I mean come back permanently.”

“You will enjoy Italy, Darling. Now, you should be getting ready. I’ll let you go and call me as soon as you get there! Talk to you soon, Bella,” she hangs up before I can say anything back.

I throw my phone on my bed and decide to take a shower in the en suite bathroom. Maybe the warm water will make me feel better and refreshed. I strip my clothes and leave them on the bench. I open the shower curtain and let the spray of the water hit me from the shower head. I place my hands on the wall and crane my head down letting the water envelop me.

Vinny and I had a massive shower in our master bedroom. It had two shower heads and it was enclosed by a glass door. The floor was granite and even had a little bench to sit on. We would always shower together. Either I would sneak in his shower or he would sneak in mine. I remember feeling his presence behind me as he’d run his hands from my thighs up to my breasts.

Vinny was several inches taller than me. Definitely over six feet. He would bend and rest his chin on my shoulder and kiss the sensitive skin of my neck. He would grind his body behind me causing me to squirm and moan. We used to love foreplay, playing with each other, torturing ourselves with indescribable pleasure. The spray of the shower kept our bodies warm and wet as we would writhe against each other until we could no longer take it. He’d force me against the shower wall, snake his hands under my knee and hike my leg up. He’d thrust inside of me and I’d nearly scream from ecstasy.

I missed those moments. I missed Vinny. I missed my life before the chaos. I missed that beautiful home we had with the double shower head. I missed being his little housewife. I missed the nights he’d sneak into bed and kiss me awake. He’d take me all night long sometimes and I never minded. He was my safety and security and now he’s gone and I have nothing. I don’t even have the protection of Carmelo. The only man who made me feel safe after Vinny died.

Depression covers me like a blanket and the shower loses its appeal and no longer soothes me after I shampoo my hair. Chicago is just one large memory of twenty-two years of my life and I’m struggling to say goodbye.

I had already set aside clothes, a few nights ago, that I would wear on the airplane. I went for comfort. Black leggings with an oversized blue sweatshirt. I french-braid my hair back into ponytail and let it dry that way. Next, I slid on my worn out pair of black sneakers. I check the time on my phone, I killed an hour since breakfast. That means I have thirty minutes to get to the airport.

It’s not like the private plane would leave without me though.

I look around my room one last time making sure I’m not forgetting anything of value to me. I put my phone in my crossbody purse that is already full of Dramamine for flight sickness, my kindle so I can read, my wallet for obvious reasons, tissues in case I decide to cry, and some Chapstick.

Slowly making my way downstairs, I stall leaving the penthouse as much as I can. Worry and dread fills my system when I realize I didn’t call Liliana or see Carmelo to give him a proper goodbye. I bite my bottom lip and my legs shake begging me to turn around, run upstairs, and lock the door.

Neither Antonio nor Rocco would appreciate dragging me to airport though. They have much more important things to worry about.

The foyer comes into view as I reach the last few steps, Rocco is standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. He is all ready for the day, wearing a black suit with a red tie. He is tapping his polished, designer shoes and looking less than amused.

“You’re going to be late,” he checks his watch and orders one of his men to take down my pink suitcases. The man disappears into the elevator with my luggage as Rocco takes a few steps toward me. I’m frozen in place. “I’ll miss you,” he pulls me into a hug.

“I’ll miss you too,” I fight off the burning sensation in my eyes.

“Come on,” he pulls back, “We don’t want to keep your brother waiting. He’s expecting you at a very specific time. You know how particular he is.” That I do. Rocco places his hand on the small of my back and ushers me to the elevator and presses the main lobby button.

“I thought you said you weren’t coming with me?”

“I’m not. I’m going to see you get into the car and then I’ll watch you leave and take my own car to work.”

“Oh.” Silence fills the elevator.

We reach the lobby relatively quickly and my palms begin to sweat. I see the black SUV waiting for me out front and the driver standing by the side of the car, waiting to open the passenger side for me.

Rocco grabs my shoulders and pulls me to face him. He kisses both my cheeks, “Goodbye, Bella. We’ll keep in touch I’m sure.”

I’m sure.

Rocco walks with me to the car as the driver opens the door. As I get in I can hear Rocco say, “Make sure she gets there safe. Text me when she is on the plane taking off.”

“Of course, Mr. Moretti,” the driver nods his head and shuts my door.

Rocco taps his hand on the door and smiles in my direction despite the black tint windows. The driver takes off and I leave what I called home for the past few months.

“You’re looking pale, Ms. Moretti. Would you like the window open to have some fresh air?” The driver gazes at me through the rearview mirror.

“No,” I shake my head. “It’s just nervous jitters. I hate flying.” And I do. I always have.

The driver nods his head and returns his attention back to road. I turn to stare out the window to memorize every street and every building and relish in as much as Chicago has to offer while I’m here for the next hour or so. A raindrop hits my window and I start to actually smile for the first time today. Many people would hate the Chicago weather but I’ve always loved it. Especially the wind and rain. It always helped me fall asleep when the window in my room would rattle or the sound of raindrops hitting the glass. It was my only solace at night.

A tire squeals from a car nearby and catches my attention automatically. I turn to look out the window in the back to see two black cars speeding and grinding up against the sides of each other. My driver curses under his breath and the motor makes a humming noise that tells me his foot has accelerated on the gas.

“What’s going on?” I can’t contain the worry laced in my voice.

“We were followed. Hold on, Ms. Moretti,” he steers to avoid what I assume is the group of Marco’s loyalists.

I buckle my seatbelt and tug it tight. I’ve never been one to pray, but in this moment I do. I don’t want to die.

One of the black cars is now side by side with us. They ram into us and the driver spins out of control. The car pulls around in front and shoots through the front windshield. The bullets don’t penetrate the bullet-proof glass but the noise of bullets hitting the glass make me jump.

“Drive!” I shout.

“God… no…” the driver screams as the driver side door is somehow ripped open. A man dressed in a black suit brings his pistol to the side of my drivers head and kills him instantly. Blood splatters everywhere and I cup a hand over my mouth to keep myself from screaming out.

The murdered crawls over the lifeless body and spots me with a cruel smile. “Isn’t this my lucky day?” He raises his gun, his index finger twitches on the trigger and I shut my eyes tight.

Bang.

I’m dead. I’m dead and there’s nothing but darkness and ringing in my ears. Is this what it’s like to die? Darkness? Nothing?

“Arabella…” the voice echoes my name. “Open your eyes, sweetheart.”

I force my eyes open and reality comes slamming down on me. The ringing slowly fades and the sounds of sirens and yelling are no longer muffled.

I’m not dead?

Someone is now at the wheel driving like a manic as the black car is still trailing us.

I shift in my seat to get a better look at the stranger. “Carmelo?” I could spot that jawline anywhere. “What’s happening? Why are you here?”

“I got intel that Samuel knew you were on the way to your airport without an escort,” Carmelo shakes his head and mutters, “Which was real fucking stupid on Rocco’s part.”

“I-I thought I was dead.”

“You nearly were. Don’t worry. I followed you since you got in the car. I knew trouble was coming. I’m here now,” he soothes.

Carmelo remains calm in the midst of a high speed chase with men who are shooting at us and trying to kill us. I can’t believe he is here. He saved my life. I could’ve been dead.

Carmelo looks over his shoulder and eyes me up and down quickly before averting his attention back on the road. “I want you to stay buckled up. I’m going to try and lose them.”

I grip the bar on the door next to the handle and hold it tight. “Carmelo…” I breathe out. “Thank you.”

Carmelo shakes his head. “I’m just doing my job.”

“It’s not your job anymore to save me,” I say quietly as my heart thunders out of my chest.

“It’ll always be my job to protect you. I swore to it and I never break a promise.”

I close my eyes and lean my head back against the seat. I inhale deeply and then exhale slowly.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

We have to make it out of this alive. We have to.

“Everything will be okay,” Carmelo’s soft voice takes me out of a panic attack. I nod my head quickly and continue my breathing exercise. “I’m going to get you on that plane safe and sound.”

Please don’t, I almost want to say. Can’t we just turn around and go back to your apartment and forget about time and responsibility?

The tire screeches as Carmelo makes a sharp turn and the engine revs as he speeds up. “Hang on!” He shouts.

If I had to guess, we were going close to hundred miles per hour, maybe more. Carmelo is taking side streets in mafia territory so there’s minimal cars, but the cars that are passing by are honking their horns.

The car rattles as it cuts curbs and flies over potholes. The chase continues for what feels like forever. Maybe forty minutes later the car starts to slow down as Carmelo continues turning and changing direction.

“I think we lost them,” he sounds breathless.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve been sure for about five minutes now. There’s no sign of them from what I can see,” he looks in the rear view mirror.

“So you’re taking me to the airport now?” I gulp with dread.

“Yeah. Lucky for you, we’re close. This is the only way to ensure your safety. Chicago isn’t safe for you right now.”

“Then why aren’t Liliana and Viola coming with me?” I spit bitterly. My attitude isn’t toward him, but toward the predicament I’m in.

“Antonio has many guards protecting them and he spends as much time as he can protecting his wife and daughter himself.”

“Then why couldn’t I move in with Liliana?”

Carmelo shrugs. “This is what your parents wanted and this is also what your brother wants.”

“I don’t want to go,” my voice waivers but I don’t dare cry.

“I know you don’t,” I can see him frown. “I’ll feel much better knowing those bastards can’t get to you there.”

I don’t say anything back as I stare back out the window and pray for the car ride to last as long as possible. I want to say things to Carmelo, I want to have my goodbye with him right now. The goodbye I’ve been wanting to say since he walked out of Rocco’s apartment that one morning. Now my head is empty, everything I wanted to say is gone. My mind is scattered and my heart slowly tearing into tiny pieces.

I want to ask things of him that will surely get both of us killed. I want to ask him to turn around and just keep driving until we will find a safe spot where we will never be found. That way I don’t have to go to Italy, so I won’t be forced to live by the oath I born into.

“Fuck!” Carmelo shouts and the car picks up speed once more.

My eye catches the street sign. We’re only two blocks away from the airport and the black SUV is now discreetly following behind us.

Carmelo pulls out his phone and immediately starts talking into it. “We’re here and we’re being followed. Get men out here while I get Ms. Moretti into the plane.”

Ms. Moretti.

By the time Carmelo arrives near the airport he enters through a way I’m all too familiar with. It takes the car to the strip where the private plane is waiting. When we arrive there a men in suits holding guns and waiting to shoot at the men following us. Carmelo parks the car as close as possible to the plane and helps me out of the car. My legs are shaking with fear as I hear the sound of gunshots.

Carmelo pulls me close to him and takes out his pistol. We look behind us to see the men guarding are now dead and the SUV has gotten through. He grabs my wrist and pulls me toward the airplane and up the stairs to enter the plane. The guards by the plane door are shooting at the men firing back and Carmelo yells to pilots, “Take off, now!”

The flight attendants lock and seal the door. As soon as the cabin is pressurized and whatever preflight stuff is checked off, we begin to move. I nearly lose my balance as I zig-zag in the aisle to find a seat. Carmelo grabs my waist and places me into the beige cushioned seat next to him.

The entire flight crew, including Carmelo and I, buckle in and before I can even gather what just happened, we are taking off down the strip.

I look out the window as see nothing but sky. I can finally catch my breath and lose all the tension my muscles accumulated in the past hour. I blink a few times and finally realize that Carmelo is actually on the plane with me.

“What are you…” my voice trails.

“I had to make sure you were on the plane safe,” he doesn’t look me in the eyes. He picks at his nails like a nervous habit and opens his mouth to say something but closes it. He does this two more times before saying, “I couldn’t let you go alone. You looked so scared.”

I rest my head on his shoulder in appreciation and I feel him tense, then relax under me. “Thank you,” I whisper and close my eyes.

As much as I love having him here with me right now. As much as I love the company of a friend and I suddenly don’t feel so afraid anymore… I know he will be forced on the first flight back to Chicago as soon as we land.