Wicked Fame: A mafia stalker romance (Wicked Men Book 2)

Angelo lives in an impressive mansion, one that’s a far cry from my modest apartment. Then again, he operates the biggest crime family on the East Coast and has multiple legal businesses in Hollywood. His status demands that he lives it up a little.

His old, gray-haired housekeeper opens the door for me. She has worked in this household for decades. That’s why, even though I came unannounced, she recognizes me at first glance.

“Is the Don at home?”

Her tired blue eyes blink warily. “You have business with him?”

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“His bedroom,” she replies, shuffling her feet uncomfortably.

“Is he busy?”

“No. Let me inform him you’re here.”

I follow the housekeeper’s lead. One survey of the house is enough to tell me it’s no longer what it used to be. There are no flowers to be seen. When I first came here after being saved by Angelo, this house smelled of roses. The décor was brighter, too.

The Don’s wife died three years ago which may be the cause of the change. As far as I know, he has been single since then. I don’t remember much about her, only that she was a matronly, unremarkable woman. She wasn’t flashy. She had no interest in wearing pretty clothes and living in luxury the way most mafia wives do nowadays, Nico’s included. But I remembered how caring she was when she nursed me back to health as a teenage boy Angelo had picked up off the streets.

Don is reading the newspaper in the living room upstairs, the one right next to the master bedroom. I can’t think of anyone else who reads the paper in this day and age except Angelo Russo.

One gray eyebrow arches at my presence. “Gabriele. Now this is a surprise.”

“I have something important to tell you.”

“If it’s about the shooting of the Astor girl at your apartment, Nico already gave me the details. Nico said you both cleaned it up quietly. Of course, it’d all be for nothing unless that girl survives. We don’t want her family to come after you or blame you for everything. How did her surgery go?”

“No idea.” Maybe the Don reads what I’m about to say in my expression because he folds the newspaper and lays it down, drawing himself to his feet. “Regardless of the outcome, though, I cannot marry Maria. I’m sorry, Boss to spring this on you when the wedding is three weeks away. I will tell Maria myself. As gently as possible, of course.”

With the mere hardening of Angelo’s jaw, the temperature seems to drop fifty degrees. He’s not pleased about this.

The coward in me, the young boy who lives to please this great man wants to take those words back. I could simply marry Maria and cheat on her. But I don’t want to fall any lower than I’ve already fallen.

As Ethan said, Francesca deserves better. She deserves a helluva lot better than being my sidepiece. Or a Mafioso’s wife. She deserves a safe and happy life, one that’s worthy of her wealthy upbringing and beautiful heart. I never want her to be worried about dying again, looking over her shoulder for a gun at every turn. That’s something I won’t tolerate.

 “What’s your reason for not wanting to proceed with the wedding?” The Don’s tone is deceptively quiet.

Calling off the marriage is only the first bomb I’m dropping on Angelo tonight. I can’t backpedal now.

“I don’t believe I can be faithful to Maria,” I say. “I’ll hurt her, only in a different way than her ex-husband did—”

“The real reason, Gabriele.”

“I just can’t do it, Boss. I can’t pretend everything’s fine.” The fear coursing through my veins makes my voice wobble. “My whole life changed the moment he shot her in front of my eyes.”

The Don grinds his slippers into the carpet, muttering something under his breath. It’s definitely nothing good. My body screams in panic.

Have I angered him? He could have me killed in three hundred different ways with only a snap of his finger. But I don’t fear death anymore.

I fear unhappiness, lack of fulfillment, the endless pretenses.

The air between us is filled with invisible thorns.

A harsh breath whistles out from between Angelo’s parted teeth. “You’re in love.”

“No. I’m madly in love.” Every syllable scrapes through my chest. An intense agony grips my throat. “When I think of a world without her, all I see is darkness. If I can’t be with her, it’s fine. But I don’t want to be with anyone else because touching another woman while she breathes would be a betrayal. I thought it was just physical, an intense addiction I could overcome but now my soul feels like it has been torn apart and I’m scared I’ll never be happy again.”

Angelo’s eyes widen in surprise. There’s a momentary lapse in the conversation as he processes what my words could mean and I find the courage to be more direct. His voice is gravel when he says, “Do you want to leave the family, Gabriele?”

“I need to. Otherwise, I’ll never be able to be with her without worrying about her safety. She isn’t from our world and it was my fault for dragging her into it.”

A million silent questions and answers loop between our gazes. Decades worth of loyalty and memories, family bonds and promises. The most significant person in my life, my only constant, my father figure, my master, my Don, my savior—I’m throwing it all away for a chance with a girl who has enchanted my heart. It’s the ultimate disloyalty.

I’m sure that’s exactly what this seems like to him. But I don’t care how fickle and ungrateful I seem. I owe Francesca everything. More than that, though, I owe myself a chance to find real fulfillment instead of settling for a dissatisfying future.

A thick swallow swells the curve of the old man’s throat. He’s doing his best to soften the deep lines carving his skin, bracketing his eyes, and his jaw. Lines of acute disappointment.

“Have I ever told you about my wife?” He clasps his hands behind his back. “We fell in love when we were young. I defied my father to marry her. She rebelled against her parents, too. They didn’t want her associating with someone in the mafia. Sometimes, I felt guilty for taking her away from the life she could have had—one where she didn’t have to look over her shoulder twice or worry if her children would return alive every time they left the house. Despite all the trials, though, we were happy.” A sniffle as the old man’s eyes shine with tears. “Every day since her death seems just a little bit darker.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. And for making him lose another member of your family.”

The breath we both take in unison as we straighten our bodies is drenched with meaning.

“In life, you regret many things,” Angelo says. “But let me tell you this: nobody ever regrets fighting for what they believed in.”

I take his hand caressing the thin, age-spot-marked skin and the outline of the veins underneath. A cough spurts from his phlegmy throat when I kiss his knuckles. “Boss, you are the best man I know and that will always be true. You were a real father to me. You made me believe in family, in friendship, in devoting my life to serving someone. I will never regret having been a part of this family and I will never harm you or the family in any way, even when I’m a civilian. Meeting you was undoubtedly the greatest fortune I ever had.”

“Don’t be giving your farewell speech already. I haven’t agreed to let you go. Besides, how are you going to survive once you leave? You have enough money, but you can’t waste the remainder of your life doing nothing. You’re only thirty-four.”

The bud of an idea that was sparked weeks ago has fully bloomed inside my brain. “I’m planning to train to be a chef.”

“At this age?”

“I like challenges.”

“The restaurant business in New York is more cutthroat than the mafia.” A light chuckle accompanies his words.

“I’m willing to try my luck.”

His eyelids drop for a moment before his clear eyes swim into view again.

“I’ll miss you,” he says.

“So will I.”

“Are you going to talk to Maria?”

“I’ll have to.”

Angelo considers a moment. “Why don’t you leave her to me? She might not want to see your face again.”

“In that case, I’m grateful for your help.”

“Gabriele, you’ll need to stay with the family for at least a few months,” Angelo continues “Show Antonio the ropes so he can take your place. You’re going to be a hard man to replace but I need competent men on my side.”

A few months. That’s nothing. I expected him to demand more. The Don has grown soft in his later years it seems.

Francesca will be focusing on her art career after college anyway. I need to have my restaurant set up and operating before I propose marriage to her, too. I wasn’t expecting it to be an overnight thing. I’m in this for the long haul.

“I’ll always be on your side, Boss, even when I’m no longer part of the family,” I say.

Angelo nods. “That you will be.”