Page 42 of Sacred Blood

“Yes. Now, try the pasta.”

Watching Gabriella eat was better than watching porn and should have been illegal. Her eyes became hooded as she licked her lips repeatedly and sighed often.

I tried picturing Gaby at Romeo’s wedding, eating lobster with this sensual abandon. I would have had to fight my brothers off with a bat. I handed her a chili shaker and fresh grated parmesan.

“Oh, thank you, Tano. Mmm, so good. I was only gone a short time; how did you manage this dish in such a short time?”

“That’s my secret. You concern yourself with eating your dinner.”

“Yes, Doctor Vitale,” she said in a teasing tone that made my cock strain even harder against my pants.

“Behave. We have things to discuss.”

Her mouth, ready to clamp down on the plump piece of lobster, shut and she dropped her fork to her plate. Through a nervous smile, she asked, “Is it wrong to want to know, yet at the same time, want to run and hide?”

There was a budding honesty about Gaby that spoke to me. It had not been one of Monica’s attributes, but then, I had been more concerned about pleasure and sexual compatibility with her. In the ten years since, I’d become a full-fledged surgeon, with plenty of opportunities to use my gift of observation to learn and understand what made people tick.

I found that, while most people thought they had a public and a private self, for the most part, they didn’t deviate much from their true nature. Someone who abused their authority in the workplace was apt to do the same at home; a generous and compassionate person found ways to help others, whether or not they were paid to do so. Gaby had always been an entirely different person beneath a surface I was only beginning to scratch. Like myself, she was accustomed to hiding her true feelings and guarding her heart. The world could be a cruel place for those who truly felt, and in that, we were alike.

Unlike the heartless, cruel persona I projected, Gaby had remained true to her nature and the blossoming buds of her personality stemmed from a strong sense of self. No one saw my heart, except on the rare occasions when I allowed it, and my brother, Vincenzo, who brought out a protective, loving nature in me that no one else had.

I’d never forget visiting our mother at the hospital after he was born and staring down at those large golden amber eyes and his crown of light curls.

“He looks like a baby lion, Mama,” I’d said.

The family had erupted into peals of laughter, startling him and making him cry. I held out my hand and he wrapped his tiny fingers around my thumb. That was the one and only time my heart cracked wide open, and that little shit had been worming his way in ever since.

“It is not wrong to want contradictory things, Gabriella,” I said now.

She took a swig of her wine, finishing off the glass. I poured it half-full and sat back in my chair.

“Do you want the good news, the bad news, or the really bad news first?” I asked. There really weren’t any of those things, but given our nurse/doctor dynamic, this tactic would help her to digest the information and weigh it out for herself. One good thing about screwing the daughter of a Don, I could trust she’d not fall victim to the typical hysterics I’d come to expect from women.

Gaby chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully, before replying. Another sip and a sigh later she answered with, “The really bad news.”

“We have to get married,” I deadpanned.

I don’t know what she thought I’d say, but clearly not that. Her loud laughter erupted in the quiet outdoors. When I didn’t join in, she quickly stopped, swiping the tears of mirth from her cheeks to eye me balefully.

“Maybe you better start at the beginning, so I understand what is going on.”

This is where I needed to decide if she had a vote in this or not. All my soul searching, and emotional scouring came down to this. Do I tell her, or do I ask her and give her wiggle room?

“I’ll give you the bullet points, Ms. Calabretta. First, as far as we can tell, your roommates are blissfully unaware as to your true identity, but they are not off the hook yet. Secondly, regarding your parents, your suspicions were justified. Your mother is indeed Russian. She was the mistress to a powerful oligarch with connections to the Bratva, Dimitri Peskov. For reasons we do not know, she ran away from him and immigrated to Italy, where she changed her identity and met your father. My guess is she seduced him, ‘got pregnant,’ and convinced him to do the honorable thing, as they were married very soon after. In due time, she went into labor two months prematurely and delivered a surprisingly healthy nine-pound baby.”

Gaby’s breath caught.

“And Red?”

“Yes, Red, or rather, Sonja Knyazev, daughter of Ivan Knyazev. You introduced her to your father on one of his many visits to the university. It was then that her father reached out to Peskov, your birth father, and gave him the news first, that he had a daughter, and secondly, that Knyazev would bring you back to Russia, but only under his terms.”

“I don’t understand, Sonja helped me get away from my father’s marriage match for what purpose?”

“We can’t say for sure, but we have information that strongly suggests the match your father told you of, or perhaps I should say warned you of, was Ivan Knyazev. Your father’s superiors in the 'Ndrangheta have done business with him in the past. Knyazev is well-known as a brutal man, but he doesn’t have much power by himself. That is undoubtedly what he hopes to gain by marrying you, a portion of Peskov’s empire and all his allies.”

“But why would…” Her lips worked, silently mouthing the words ‘my father,’ but unable to put a voice behind them. “Why would Peskov even care about getting me back? I’m nobody to him!”

“You are his daughter,” I corrected gently. “And he has no other children. For that fact and his own vanity, he would want you, but you are also a beautiful young woman he could offer to any number of friends in the Bratva, cementing his alliance through your marriage to whomever he wished. My guess is Knyazev was trying to direct the narrative by finding you and offering you in exchange for something he wants. And marrying you himself if Peskov doesn’t do as he asks.”