2. Angelo

2

ANGELO

T he moment Jimbo told me about Gino Timpone’s threats against Perfezione, I knew I had to intervene personally. Zip Saldano might be harmless in the grand scheme of things—except when he’s at the poker table, where he’s fleeced me, Romero, and my father more times than I can count—but he’s a fixture in this neighborhood.

More importantly, he’s under my protection, whether he knows it or not.

I stroll into Perfezione, expecting to see Zip’s weathered face and hear his gravelly chuckle. What I’m not prepared for is the vision that greets me instead.

She’s standing behind the counter, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. Dark, wavy hair cascades past her shoulders, framing a face that could launch a thousand ships—or start a war between Families. She’s a goddamn Helen of Troy.

Her eyes, deep and expressive, seem to pull me in, promising depths I long to explore. And those lips… full and luscious, they beg to be kissed. She’s curvy in all the right places, her body a perfect hourglass that makes my mouth go dry.

When she speaks, welcoming me to the shop, her voice is like warm honey, sweet and rich. It takes all my self-control not to visibly react. I introduce myself, watching as recognition flickers in her eyes. She knows who I am, what I represent, but there’s no fear in her gaze—only a mix of respect and something else, something that makes my pulse quicken and heat go straight to my dick.

As she leads me to the fitting area, I can’t help but watch the sway of her hips. She moves with a grace that’s both elegant and down-to-earth, a combination I find irresistible. When she starts taking my measurements, I’m hyper-aware of every point where her hands touch me. Her scent envelops me—an intoxicating mix of gardenia and coconut vanilla that makes my head spin.

I can’t help but flirt with her as she works. The way she blushes, the slight tremor in her hands when they brush against me—it’s clear the attraction is mutual. Our conversation flows easily, punctuated by moments of charged silence that speak volumes.

When she tells me to call her Fee, it feels intimate, like she’s inviting me into her world. I savor the way her nickname feels on my tongue, already imagining whispering it in more private settings.

As I admire her handiwork in the mirror, I’m struck by how perfectly the suit fits, how she’s managed to accentuate my best features with just a few pins and tucks. It’s a testament to her skill, and I find myself even more impressed.

Leaving proves harder than I expected. I overpay for the suit deliberately, using it as an excuse to come back soon. As I walk out of Perfezione, my mind is racing. I came here to deal with a threat, but I’m leaving with thoughts of dark eyes and gentle hands.

I need to see her again. Soon. And not just because of Gino’s threats. There’s something about Fee that’s got me hooked, and I’m not sure I want to fight it.

Yet as I slide into the back of my waiting car and my driver and bodyguard, Marco, starts the engine, I find myself already planning my next visit. The taste of danger has never deterred me before, and the promise of Fee’s smile is a temptation too strong to resist.

My phone buzzes, and I answer it without checking the ID, my voice sharp and authoritative. “Pirelli.”

“Don Angelo.” A nervous voice comes through. “We’ve got a situation with the shipment at the docks?—”

“Handle it,” I cut in, my tone brooking no argument. “That’s what I fucking pay you for. If you can’t manage a simple delivery without my hand-holding, perhaps I need to reconsider your position.”

“No, sir, of course not. It’s just that?—”

I’m about to deliver another scathing remark when I notice Marco turning in his seat, an urgent look on his face. I wave him off, irritated by the interruption.

“Don Angelo,” Marco hisses, undeterred, “Gino Timpone just went into Perfezione.”

My blood runs cold. Fee. Alone with that psychopath.

“I’ll call you back,” I snap into the phone, hanging up without waiting for a response. I don’t give a damn about pissing off some dock worker right now.

“Turn around,” I order Marco, already reaching for the door handle. “Now!”

Marco swings the car around in a screech of tires. The moment we’re in front of Perfezione, I’m out of the car, not even waiting for it to come to a full stop.

My mind races as I stride toward the shop. Gino’s unpredictable at the best of times, and if he’s there for the protection money… I quicken my pace, praying I’m not too late.

My hand goes to the gun holstered under my jacket, a grim determination settling over me. I don’t know what I'm walking into, but one thing’s for certain—if Gino’s laid a finger on Fee, there’ll be hell to pay.

A scream pierces the air, a sound of pure terror that sends a jolt of adrenaline through me. Without thinking, I sprint toward the shop, my heart pounding in my chest. The door is slightly ajar, and I burst in, the scene before me igniting a cold fury deep within.

Gino has Fee pressed against the wall, his hand gripping her arm painfully as he sneers down at her. “You think you can fight me, little girl? You’re nothing .”

My vision narrows, focusing on Gino as I pull my gun from its holster, the weight of it familiar and reassuring in my hand. “Let her go, Gino,” I command, my voice cold and deadly.

Gino turns, his eyes widening slightly when he sees me, but it’s Fee’s face that I notice. Her lip is split, blood trickling down her chin, and her cheek is already bruising. Rage courses through me, a white-hot surge that makes my grip on the gun tighten. I cock it, the sound loud in the tense silence.

“This isn’t your territory, Pirelli,” Gino snarls, his eyes flicking between me and Fee.

I can’t resist a smirk. “Maybe not, but it’s about to be my problem.”

The corner of Gino’s mouth twitches with anger. “You don’t get to come here and make demands.”

“Let. Her. Go. Now . Or else.”

The tension in the room is palpable, a heavy silence stretching over us as Gino’s grip on Fee loosens. He steps back, his eyes still locked on mine.

“This isn’t over, Sofia,” he spits. “You still owe me money. But now it’s doubled.”

“Get the fuck out,” I growl, my gun still trained on him.

Gino sneers at us both. With one last hateful look, he turns and storms out of the shop, slamming the door behind him.

Fee sinks to the floor, her body shaking. I holster my gun and rush to her side, kneeling down and gently cupping her face. “Are you alright?”

She nods, though tears stream down her cheeks. “I thought… I thought he was going to?—”

I wipe away tears from her good cheek. “I know.”

That fucker.

Nothing would give me more satisfaction than putting a bullet in his head for laying a hand on Fee. But killing another Don without permission from La Familia isn’t something I can afford to do right now.

I holster my gun and extend a hand to Fee. “Let’s get you up.”

She takes my hand, her fingers trembling slightly, and I help her to her feet. She pulls out a compact mirror from her bag and gasps when she sees her reflection, her split lip and bruised cheek staring back at her.

“I can’t let Lou see me like this,” she sighs, her voice filled with worry.

“Lou?” I ask, curiosity piqued.

“My daughter,” Fee explains, and I can’t help but notice the absence of any wedding or engagement rings on her fingers.

The revelation of her having a daughter intrigues me, adding another layer to the enigma that is Sofia Saldano. Despite the mountain of work awaiting me, I make a split-second decision.

“I’m staying,” I declare, my tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t trust Gino to stay away, and you need protection.”

Sofia starts to protest, but I hold up a hand. “Please, let me do this. For my peace of mind, if nothing else.”

She hesitates, then nods. “Thank you, Don Pirelli. I… I appreciate it.”

“Please, call me Angelo. If I get to use your nickname, it’s only fair that you use my first name.”

Fee smiles, then winces as the movement aggravates her injuries. My jaw tightens, but I keep my voice gentle. “Let me make a few calls.”

Stepping aside, I pull out my phone. “Jimbo, cancel my meetings for today. Something’s come up.” I pause, listening to his protests. “No, it can’t wait. Handle it.” My tone leaves no room for argument.

Throughout the day, I field calls, my voice alternating between sharp commands and smooth negotiations. “Tell Carmine if he can’t meet the quota, he’s out. No, the shipment goes through tonight, no excuses. If the cops ask questions, you know nothing.”

Between calls, Fee and I chat. I find myself drawn to her quick wit and warm smile, while she seems intrigued by the glimpses of the man behind the Don.

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this… comfortable with someone.

At 3:30, the bell chimes. Zip walks in, accompanied by a young girl with thick blonde waves and piercing blue eyes shouldering a backpack. She can’t be more than nine years old.

Zip looks startled. “Don Pirelli, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The girl stops short, her gaze fixed on me. “Who are you?” she asks bluntly, her tone more demanding than curious.

I raise an eyebrow, both amused and impressed by her directness. “I’m Angelo, a friend of your mother’s. And you must be Lou.”

Lou’s eyes narrow slightly. “Mom doesn’t have friends like you,” she states matter-of-factly.

Fee steps forward, wincing slightly. “Lou, honey, be polite. Angelo’s been helping me today.”

Lou’s gaze sharpens as she notices her mother’s injuries. “What happened?” she demands, her young voice laced with a worry beyond her years.

Fee tries to brush it off. “Oh, it’s nothing, sweetie. I just had a little accident in the shop. You know how clumsy I can be sometimes.”

Lou’s eyes narrow, clearly not buying it. She turns to me, her gaze piercing. “Did you rescue my mom?”

I consider my words carefully but decide on honesty. “Yes, I did.”

Lou nods, satisfied. Her directness and quick understanding impress me. This kid’s got moxie, and I can’t help but admire it.

“Well,” I announce, “I think this calls for a celebration. How about dinner? My treat.”

Zip starts to protest. “Don Pirelli, that’s very kind, but?—”

“Call me Angelo,” I interrupt. “I insist. How about Bella Notte?”

Fee looks uncertain, glancing at Zip. “Angelo, that’s really not necessary?—”

But Lou’s eyes have lit up. “The Italian place? I’ve heard their food is amazing!”

“Lou, how have you heard that?” Zip asks, amused.

“I can read Google reviews!” Lou retorts, tossing her head.

I bite back a laugh. “Then it’s settled,” I say with a smile. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

I step outside, nodding at Marco, who is watching the streets like a hawk. “I need a reservation at Bella Note for four tonight.”

Marco’s bushy eyebrows knit together. “But Boss, they’re always packed.”

“I don’t give a fuck if they’re full. Make it happen.”

Marco nods and pulls out his phone, still keeping an eye on any potential danger lurking about

Satisfied with that, I call Romero, my enforcer.

“What’s up, Boss?” Romero says breezily.

“Romero, get Jimbo on the line. We need to call in that favor from Don De Luca,” I say.

There’s a pause before Romero responds, his voice cautious. “The De Luca favor, Boss? Are you sure?”

“Did I fucking stutter, Romero?” I snap, my patience wearing thin.

I hear muffled voices, then Jimbo comes on the line. “Don Angelo, with all due respect, that favor was hard-won. We were saving it for?—”

I cut him off, my voice steely. “I don’t give a fuck what we were saving it for. I need security for Perfezione, starting immediately.”

“Perfezione?” Romero sounds stunned, but Jimbo stays silent. “But Angelo, that’s just a tailor shop. Surely, we can use our own men?—”

“Are you questioning my orders, Romero?” I ask, my tone deadly quiet.

There’s a tense silence before Romero responds, his voice subdued. “No, Don Angelo. Of course not.”

“Good,” I say. “Because the last time I checked, I was still running this family. Not you, not Jimbo, and certainly not whoever you were planning to use that favor for. Am I clear?”

“Crystal clear, Boss,” Jimbo chimes in.

“Perfectly clear,” Romero adds.

“Excellent,” I say. “Now make it happen. I want De Luca’s best men on Perfezione within the hour. And if I hear one more word of protest, you’ll both be explaining yourselves to me in person. Understood?”

“Yes, Boss,” they chorus.

I hang up, taking a deep breath to calm myself. As I look back through the shop window, I see Fee laughing at something Lou said, and I feel the tension drain from my shoulders. This might be unorthodox, but it feels right.

I head back inside, catching the tail end of a conversation between Fee and Lou.

“But Mom, why can’t we go? It sounds fun!” Lou is saying, her voice taking on a wheedling tone.

Fee sighs, looking torn. “Honey, we have so much to do here and you do have a bedtime?—”

“It’s all taken care of,” I interject smoothly. “I’ve arranged for some additional help at the shop, and our reservation is set for five PM. That should give us plenty of time to enjoy dinner and get Lou home at a reasonable hour.”

Fee looks at me, surprise and gratitude mingling in her expression. “Angelo, you didn’t have to do all that.”

I shrug, trying to play it casual despite the warmth spreading through my chest at her look. “It’s no trouble. Besides, I think we could all use a nice evening out after today’s excitement.”

Lou tugs on my sleeve. “Is it true that Bella Notte has the best tiramisu in the city?”

I chuckle, charmed by her enthusiasm. “It is. And if you’re good, maybe we’ll order two.”

As Lou cheers and Fee and Zip shake their heads with fond smiles, I feel something shift inside me. This isn’t my usual world of deals and danger. It’s something softer, warmer. Something I didn’t even know I was missing.

I catch Zip’s eye, and he gives me a knowing look. I straighten my tie, suddenly feeling like I’m on unfamiliar ground. But as Fee’s hand brushes mine while she reaches for her purse, I know I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Shall we?” I ask, holding the door open.

I can’t help but feel like I’m stepping into something new as we step out into the New York evening. Something that could change everything. And for once in my life, I’m looking forward to the uncertainty.

The rich aromas of garlic and tomato sauce envelope us as we enter Bella Notte. The restaurant is dimly lit, with candles flickering on red- and white-checkered tablecloths. The low hum of conversation and soft Italian music create an intimate atmosphere. Marco takes up a discreet position nearby as we settle into our seats.

I turn to Lou, a hint of amusement in my voice. “Would you like a kids’ menu?”

Lou scowls while Zip lets out a hearty laugh. “Lou’s been eating off the adult menu since kindergarten.” He chuckles, his eyes twinkling with pride.

“I have better taste than other kids my age,” Lou declares haughtily, her chin raised in defiance.

As I sit next to Fee, our shoulders brush, sending a spark through me. Throughout dinner, I find myself hyper-aware of her presence, our hands occasionally touching as we reach for breadsticks. Each accidental contact sends a thrill through me, and I catch her eyes darting to mine more than once.

“Do you ever worry that someone will try and hurt you here?” Fee asks in a low tone, keeping one eye on Lou as she eats her pasta.

I shake my head. “No. I have Marco, but Bella Notte is neutral territory. No one dares to start anything here.”

“Same with Perfezione,” Zip says. He leans back, swirling his wine glass. “You know, Angelo, Antoni always had a soft spot for Perfezione. He understood the value of a neutral ground in the neighborhood.”

“Oh?” I prompt, genuinely curious. “How so?”

Zip nods, a faraway look in his eyes. “He’d say, ‘Giuseppe, your shop is like Switzerland in a World War. Everyone needs a safe haven.’ So we had an arrangement. We’d stay neutral, help anyone who came through our doors, and in return, we’d be left alone.”

“That sounds like a fair deal,” I muse, my mind working through the implications.

Fee excuses herself to the restroom, and I seize the opportunity. Lowering my voice, I lean toward Zip. “I know about Antoni’s arrangement with Perfezione. Gino’s on a rampage, undoing everything his father put in place.”

Zip’s eyes widen, his fork clattering against his plate. “You know about that? But how?—”

“I have my sources,” I say quietly, mindful of Lou’s attentive gaze. “Gino wants to implement a reign of terror. He’s bitter about being exiled from New York, missing his father’s final moments.”

Lou, who has been quietly listening, suddenly speaks up. “Sometimes, when people are hurting, they want to make others hurt too. But that doesn’t make it right.”

I look at her, impressed by her insight. “That’s very perceptive, Lou. Where did you learn that?”

She shrugs, twirling pasta around her fork. “Mom says understanding people doesn’t mean excusing their actions. It just helps you figure out how to deal with them better.”

Zip laughs and leans over to plant a loving kiss on Lou’s head.

“Your mom’s a wise woman,” I say, feeling a surge of admiration for Fee.

As if on cue, Fee returns, sliding back into her seat next to me. Her knee brushes against mine under the table, and I feel a jolt of electricity at the contact. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, the rest of the restaurant fades away.

“Did I miss anything?” Fee asks, breaking the spell.

“Just Lou schooling us all in psychology,” I reply with a wink at the young girl.

Fee laughs, the sound warming me from the inside out. “That sounds like my girl. Always full of surprises.”

As we continue our meal, the conversation flows easily. I find myself relaxing in a way I rarely do, drawn into the warmth of this unconventional family. Zip regales us with stories from the old days, while Lou peppers me with questions about everything from my favorite books to my thoughts on the city’s best pizza.

Throughout it all, I’m acutely aware of Fee beside me. The way she laughs, the gentle touch of her hand on my arm as she emphasizes a point, the sparkle in her eyes as she watches Lou and Zip interact. I realize I’m seeing a side of her that goes beyond the strong, independent woman I met in the shop. Here, surrounded by her family, she’s radiant.

As the evening draws to a close, I turn to Fee and Zip. “I think it’s best if Lou stays with you tonight, Zip. Just until we can get the shop properly secured.”

Fee’s brow furrows. “Angelo, I appreciate everything you’ve done, but why are you going through all this trouble for us?”

I hold her gaze, my voice low and serious. “Fee, if Gino attacks a place I’m protecting, that’s grounds for war between the Families. I could take him out without sanction from La Familia. It’s the safest option for all of you right now.”

Fee’s eyes widen as she processes this information. After a moment, she nods. “I understand. But I’m not leaving the shop. That’s my home, and I won’t be bullied out of it.”

“Mom, no!” Lou interjects, her voice rising. “If it’s dangerous, you should come with us!”

Fee kneels down to Lou’s level. “Lucille, I need to stay. The shop is our livelihood. But you’ll be safe with Nonno Zip, okay?”

Lou’s lower lip trembles. “But what about you? Who’s going to protect you?”

I step in, placing a gentle hand on Lou’s shoulder. “I promise you, Lou, your mom will be safe. I’m going to have my best men watching over her and the shop.”

Lou looks up at me, her eyes searching mine. “You swear?”

“I swear,” I say solemnly. “On my honor.”

Lou seems to consider this for a moment before nodding reluctantly. “Okay. But you'd better keep your promise.”

Fee hugs Lou tightly. “We’ll be back together before you know it.”

I can’t help but feel a mix of admiration for Fee’s strength and a fierce protectiveness as I watch mother and daughter say their goodbyes. Zip leads Lou away, then I turn back to Fee.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask.

Fee nods, her eyes determined. “I am. I won’t let Gino drive me from my home.”

I take her hand, squeezing it gently as I open the car door for Fee. “Then I’ll make sure you’re safe there.”

As Marco pulls up to Perfezione, the street is quiet, the shop’s fa?ade bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. I watch as Fee gathers her things, her movements slow, almost hesitant. She steps out of the car, then turns back, her eyes meeting mine through the open door.

“Angelo,” she says, her voice soft but clear in the night air, “would you like to come up?”

The question hangs between us, loaded with unspoken implications. I can see the vulnerability in her eyes, mixed with something else—hope, perhaps. Or desire.

For a moment, I’m frozen, weighing the consequences. This is a line, I know. Once crossed, there’s no going back. Everything could change.

But as I look at Fee, backlit by the shop’s sign, her eyes questioning and inviting, I realize I’ve already made my decision. I made it the moment I stepped into her shop this morning.

“Absolutely,” I say, my voice low and certain.