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“I suppose he's expecting a visit.”
“He is.”
“Provide confirmation of which is Massimo's most profitable business, and which is his favorite business. According to our latest information, these would be the headquarters of an oil company operating in Russia and a casino in Las Vegas. You have until late morning to confirm this and prepare the bonfires at both destinations.”
“I need to warn you about the recklessness of operating in Bratva and Camorra territories, Don.”
“When the sun rises, Matteo, I want Massimo Coppeline's eyes to be nothing more than a pile of ash spreading through the air.” I continue, completely ignoring hiswarning. “Does he want a visit? Make sure he knows he got two.”
“Don Vittorio, I need to insist that you reconsider. This could mean war.”
This time, the dry laugh escapes my throat as I slowly shake my head from side to side.
“You keep saying that...” I take two steps towards Matteo who remains motionless, waiting for my next move. “I've always appreciated this political side of you,Consigliere, but tell me, what exactly are you suggesting we do in the face of an openaffront? Negotiate? I thought our enemy was the only one needing to be reminded of our oath.” The silence lasts as theconsiglierestares at me.
I do not need to be warned that this reaction will inflame Massimo Coppeline, nor that operating in Bratva and Camorra territories will not be decisions without consequences. However, none of this would be enough to make me back down when La Santa's power was called into question. Massimo needs to be reminded that what is born in fire can never be burned.
“We don't kneel,” Matteo finally says.
“Make sure Coppeline never forgets this again.”
CHAPTER 48
________
Gabriella Matos
I became lazy. Still with my eyes closed, I roll over on Vittorio's huge bed, intoxicating myself with his smell. Or maybe I should call myself a marathoner, since the Don never lets me sleep before the sun is rising over the horizon. Or am I the one who won't leave him alone?
A giggle escapes me, and I open my eyes before stretching my entire body, forcing the dark sheets to wrap around my body as I stretch. I take a deep breath, loving the smell around me, which is a mix of me, Vittorio, and everything we've done. The subtle throbbing between my legs makes me bite my lip.
We crossed the line a little yesterday. Even after the day we had on the high seas, the night was as intense as all the others. I didn't know life could be like this, I had no idea.
Days full of laughter and satisfied desires, hours filled with nothing but pleasures, not just sexual ones, pleasure in existing, in feeling the touch of the wind against your skin, in speaking and listening. Pleasure in drinking water and simply looking at the landscape around me and admiring it. Hours, endless hours where I don't need to pretend for a second, just be.
I used to look at the smiling people I passed on the street and asked myself, again and again, how could it be so easy for them? How could they walk around always looking so...happy? Now Iunderstand. It's easy to smile about nothing when the weight of the world isn't a heavy boot pressing your body against the ground.
When small joys are not all that separates you from the decision to jump into the abyss just to end the pain, uncertainty and exhaustion, then there is meaning in smiling, because the movement of the lips is not just a mechanical gesture or a mask to make things more acceptable to those around you, is an expression of yourself. It’s the truth. And as much as it pains me, I realize that, for me, it had never been true before.
In belonging to Vittorio, I found more freedom than I had ever had in belonging to myself. It's sad, but after weeks of chewing and regurgitating my own feelings before realizing what I was doing and pushing them away again, I realized that what Vittorio gave me, above all else, was permission to be selfish.
The man took control of my life, and even when he went over a month without even looking at me, he granted me more dignity than I remembered having in a long time.
Each time I felt the black box in my chest vibrate and refused to hold on to the sensation long enough for it to do more than that, by justifying that opening it would tear me in half, was a step I took in the opposite direction of who I used to be.
Because a few months ago, I would have allowed myself to break. Again and again, like so many times before when my life was still my own, because that seemed to be the purpose the universe gave me: to break me.
Vittorio, however, gave me a completely new one: to give some value to my own life. When those words left his mouth, back in Brazil, I thought this would just be a different kind of torture. I was very aware that I was nothing and certain that I could never be.
For some reason that I may never understand, the Don didn't just give me an order, he carried it out before I could. Vittorio gave me clothes and a bed, he gave me hot water and a job, which even though it didn't pay me a single cent, still paid me more than all the others I had before.
The world he brought me to is not a bed of roses, if anything, it is a bed of thorns. I, however, learned to bleed too long ago to care about the occasional tear in my skin.
I untangle myself from the sheets and swing my legs over the side of the bed, sitting on the mattress before standing up. Naked, I walk across the room and grab the silk robe hanging over the back of the armchair facing the fireplace, pulling it on before walking through the door and down the hall to my own room.
I go straight to the suite, lean over the oval bathtub, and turn on the taps. When I stand up, I immediately turn toward the colorful stained-glass windows. This morning, the Saint's eyes seem more welcoming than ever, and I take a step toward her, then another, and another, until the tips of my big toes touch the wall where the windows are fixed.
I tilt my head back, letting my eyes trace each of the lines already tattooed in my mind. The light face, the dark cloak covering brown hair and matching the clothes, the outstretched arms, the rose, and the dagger. I raise my hands in the same ritual as always and, this time, I come so close to touching hers that I can almost feel the coldness of the glass hurt my skin.
