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He winces. “Dante slept with her once. Pretty sure she thinks they’re going to get married.”
I scrunch my face, the idea really not sitting well with me at all.
“She can dream on,” Angelo continues, oblivious to my discomfort. “Unless her last name is Nicolosi, it’s never going to happen.”
The skin on the back of my neck prickles. “What do you mean?”
Angelo clears his throat. “You probably should ask Dante.”
My blood boils. “Angelo, I swear to God, I—”
“Fine. Fine. Jesus, Dante is really rubbing off on you, isn’t he?”
Probably in more ways than he thinks.
“Tell me.”
“Father signed a marriage contract when we were kids. One of us has to marry a Nicolosi.”
Excuse me? Is he serious?
My face must show my emotions because Angelo scratches his neck then shrugs. “It’s a done thing, Alessa. It’s how the Mafia works. Strengthening bloodlines. Ensuring peace.”
“It’s barbaric,” I reply, a heavy stone settling in my stomach as I think of what Dante and I have done all the while he was promised to another. A heady mix of anger at him failing to mention the detail and apathy at the situation coils within me as my nails dig into my palms. “What about…love?”
“It’s not something that matters in cases like that. Buteven if it did, it wouldn’t make a difference. My brother doesn’t believe in love.”
I suck in a breath, feeling like I’ve just been punched in the stomach. I shouldn’t care. I really shouldn’t, but I can’t help the feeling of disappointment. It’s like I’ve had this small spark of hope that maybe he cares about me. A spark he’s helped me nurture into a tiny flame. One that Angelo just brutally snuffed out with his honest words.
“Cool, cool, cool,” I say, turning away from him and grabbing my phone pushing away the hurt. “I better check in with Mel.” I yawn. The tiredness hitting me full force.
“She’s fine. Luca dropped her off at her parent’s house last night, and she’s had someone watching her house overnight. She’s safe, Alessa.”
I bite my lip, still not moving, my eyes stinging for some odd reason.
“One of the guys has put your clothes in your room upstairs.”
“You got my stuff back?” I whip around to face him.
“Not exactly.”
24
ALESSA
Dante is still gone the next morning. As is pretty much all my stuff. ‘My clothes’ Angelo was referring to is a walk-in wardrobe full of designer things Dante has arranged to be delivered and deposited in one of the bedrooms upstairs. Not the one we were in yesterday. But I have already figured out it was his, anyway.
Despite my exhaustion, I tossed and turned most of the night in my new bed, until I finally gave up and wandered across the hall to Dante’s room. As soon as my head hit the pillow, the scent of his cologne surrounding me like a warm hug, I drifted off, sleeping soundly until the morning light woke me up.
I’m not proud of myself for spraying his cologne on myself, just so I can bask in his addictive smell while he’s away. No one is here to judge me except me. And trust me, I shit talked myself in the mirror for a good five minutes afterthatloss of sanity.
Alone, bored out of my mind and wearing an outfit that most likely costs way more than five Bibis put together, may she rest in peace, I decide to go on a little exploration. With Angelo having slipped and spilling the beans about theirdad being the guy I met yesterday, I am decidedly less creeped out. Although I probably shouldn’t be. If Massimo is Dante’s father, then he’s the actual head of the Mafia. I should be quaking in my brand new Gucci boots.
But instead, like the cheap thrills whore that I am, I grab my phone and laptop then head downstairs. Having caught up with both Mel and Arrow last night, I can focus on digging up some dirt on Mr Angry Bird himself. Maybe his dad will have some good stories?
I tentatively walk into the library, looking around for any traces of the man I saw yesterday. But the room is empty, so I sit down in one of the plush chairs and fire up my laptop, before dialling Arrow, who helps me crack the wi-fi code.
“Nice digs,” they whistle as I wait for my browser to load. If I can’t find out more about Dante, I may as well start digging into the numbers that weren’t adding up for me.
