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I nod even though my stomach is in knots. Michael climbs out and comes around to open my door. He offers me his hand to help me. What a gentleman. Until he pinches my ass.
I squeal and playfully smack his chest, but before I can move out of his reach; he pulls me toward him and kisses me thoroughly until the knots ease.
Looking up at the house, I immediately feel a sense of warmth emanating from its white stucco walls and red-tiled roof. Taking my hand, Michael leads me through an adorable outdoor garden and into the house. The atmosphere of the house immediately envelops me like a warm blanket. From somewhere in the house, soft classical music plays. The foyer is airy and bright, with the fading sunlight streaming in from the second-story windows and reflecting off the dazzling chandelier hanging high above. A grand staircase stretches upstairs to a landing that reminds me of a balcony with an open column-designed banister.
“This way.” As I follow Michael through the house, the enticing aroma of lasagna grows stronger, filling the air and making my stomach growl.
Michael glances at me. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” I toss back.
“Michael, is that you?” a woman’s voice calls from an open doorway ahead.
“Yes.” Michael squeezes my hand before he drops his voice and asks me, “Are you ready?”
“Hurry up, son. We’re hungry.” The familiar deep timbre sets off a warning bell in my mind.
Like I’ve heard it before.
My steps falter, and Michael senses my hesitation. “Everything okay? You have nothing to fear. They’re going to love you.”
I want to tell him that isn’t what’s bothering me, but I don’t even know how to put into words what is. My mind screams at me to turn around and leave because nothing good awaits me around that corner.
“If you’re not ready, though, just say the word.” Michael searches my face for an answer I know he won’t find because I don’t have one for him.
The warm caress of his fingers on my cheek helps clear my mind, and I shake my head. “No. I want to meet them.”
Surely, I’m just being paranoid. The encounter with the strange woman yesterday has me shaken up, making every unknown voice sound like danger.
Michael drops a kiss on my lips and then smiles before we continue down the hall. Each step feels heavy, like I’m being walked to my execution.
I tell myself that I’m being silly. That I’m letting my past control my present. But a little voice returns with a vengeance and screams at me to turn and run.
I should have listened.
We round the corner and step into the dining room. My eyes immediately land on the man sitting at the head of the table, an older carbon copy of Michael and his brother. I freeze and ignore Michael’s attempts to pull me forward because my world is crashing down all around me. All the sense of safety and love I have found since Michael rescued me is shattered.
Because the man sitting at the head of the table is Dante DiAngelo, don of the Italian Mafia, leader of the High Table…and my godfather.
28
Rose
Does God hate me? Did I do something to offend the universe? Because it sure feels like fate has paired up with karma to play with my life like I’m their new shiny toy.
Because Michael is not Michael Gallo. He’s Michael DiAngelo.
The eldest son of the most powerful crime family in Miami, next in line for the seat as head of the High Table…and my son's father.
If the situation wasn’t so fucked up, it’d be comical.
I was a child the last time I saw Dante and his wife, Alice. My mother’s funeral, to be exact. Before then, Mom never allowed me to attend any High Table functions. She claimed I was too young. So I never met Michael. And even if I had, I’m ten years younger than him. He wouldn’t have given a gangly preteen the time of day.
How could I have been so blind?
The signs were there, and I foolishly ignored each one instead of questioning them. I could blame my overwhelming concern about reuniting with Liam for my blindness, but that’s no excuse.
From our mysterious first meeting, to my rescue, to his lavish penthouse and guarded family home, every moment replays in my mind like an endless movie reel. Only this time, I watch with clear eyes and not through rose-tinted glasses, seeing the truth in each moment.
