2. Gabriel

2

GAbrIEL

I came to the D’Amelio residence for a business meeting. I didn’t expect to be nearly plowed over by a crying woman before I’d even made it halfway down the hall to Masseo D’Amelio’s office.

She clearly wasn’t looking where she was going. She smacks into me before I can sidestep her, careening into my chest and nearly toppling to the floor before I grab her by her upper arms, keeping her from falling.

It’s impossible to miss the way she flinches when I do, her entire body recoiling from my touch as she jumps, gasping. I let go of her like I’ve been burned, taking a step back, but for a moment, I can’t stop looking at her.

Even flushed and sobbing, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Long chestnut-brown hair, a heart-shaped face with a flawless complexion, and wide blue eyes that are currently staring up at me as if she can’t fathom where I might have come from.

I’m not sure who she is, but the obvious solution to this is to step around her and keep going, before I’m late for my meeting. But regardless of how clear it is to me that that’s the best course of action, I can’t seem to move. I feel an odd pull to help her, to find out why she’s crying, even though I’d be willing to bet it’s none of my business. She looks devastated .

“What’s wrong?” I ask calmly, and she swallows hard, wiping a hand across her face as she looks up at me.

“I was talking to my father.” She glances back towards the large double doors further down the hall, and I realize with a shock that I’m talking to Masseo D’Amelio’s daughter. Bella, I think her name is, although I’m not sure. I don’t pay a lot of attention to anything that doesn’t directly involve my businesses, and the progeny of the heads of mafia households rarely come into play. Occasionally, a son on the verge of taking over for his father will have an interest in the business dealings he’s about to inherit, or will be acting as his father’s right hand, but more often than not, the various mafia family trees don’t interest me.

“I take it the conversation didn’t go well?” I raise an eyebrow, and she lets out a small, sobbing hiccup, pressing her hands to her mouth as her cheeks flush a deeper shade of red.

“He wants me to get married. Another arranged marriage.” Fresh tears well up in her eyes, and I can see that this must be the crux of the matter—a marriage she doesn’t want.

For all that I know it’s tradition in these families, I think it’s a ridiculous one. It’s not something I’d ever impose on my own children when they come of age. In my opinion, the mafia families would all be better off if they did away with it altogether.

“I’m sorry.” I look down at her sympathetically. “I can imagine that’s difficult for you.”

She lets out a small, sobbing laugh. “No,” she whispers, swallowing hard. “I don’t really think you can imagine it.”

She’s probably right , I muse, looking down at this girl whose name I’m not entirely sure of, but who ran into me and cried all over my shirt before spilling her guts. My own marriage was a love match, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I can’t imagine having married a stranger, a woman I barely know. My wife was someone I chose, completely and entirely, and it was the same for her.

There hasn’t been a day since she passed that I don’t miss her.

“Is there something wrong with the man your father picked?” I ask her. I’m not entirely sure why I ask. All of this is none of my business, but I can’t help but feel inexplicably bad for her, this girl who is clearly so distraught. “Old? Ugly?”

She shakes her head, wiping at her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “I just don’t want to marry anyone,” she whispers. “But he doesn’t want to listen to me. He doesn’t think there’s anything else I can do?—”

She flinches, taking an abrupt step back, her gaze clearing as she looks up at me as if she’s suddenly come to her senses. “I’m sorry,” she says suddenly. “I cried all over your shirt, and held you up. I—I’m sorry.”

The last words come out in a rush, and she darts around me, still wiping at her face—now with the sleeve of her hoodie—as she flees down the hall and disappears around the corner.

I watch her go, feeling thrown off guard and a little confused by her strange behavior. But I also feel a flood of sympathy for her. It’s clear that she’s desperate to escape this possible marriage, and equally clear that she doesn’t seem to think there’s any way out for her.

What if there was? A thought starts to form in my mind. I’m not sure why I’m even considering it, but I feel a strange desire to help her. If she’s Masseo’s daughter, then she’s a well-educated girl from a decent family, so my idea isn’t even all that outlandish.

I shake my head, turning and walking the rest of the way down the hall to Masseo’s office.

He’s poring over a stack of paperwork when I walk in, and looks up, gesturing to one of the chairs. “Gabriel. Please, sit down.”

I do, sinking into the stiff-backed leather chair and casually crossing one leg over the other as I lean back. “How are you, Masseo? It’s good to see you.”

He grunts. “Well enough. You’re here to talk business, I assume? Either gems or art, I’m guessing.”

“Both, if you have time.” I give him an easy smile. “I think I ran into your daughter on the way in.”

Masseo looks up again, this time more sharply. “I’m sorry if she disturbed you.”

“Not at all. If anything, she was the one who seemed disturbed.” I raise an eyebrow.

He lets out a long-suffering breath. “We had a disagreement. She’s a willful girl, and she has some aversions to the idea of marrying the man I’ve chosen for her. But she’ll come around. She just needs some time.”

Of course. Because time is always the answer to being forced into marrying a stranger. The entire concept feels ludicrous to me. But I chuckle in response. “Is she averse to marrying anyone at all? Or just this one man?”

Masseo snorts, leaning back as he looks at me appraisingly. “Why, Gabriel? Interested in marrying her yourself?”

I shake my head quickly at that. That’s definitely not a part of my idea. “No, I don’t have any intention of marrying again,” I tell him firmly. “Once was enough for me.”

“Even after all these years?” It’s Masseo’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Four years, isn’t it, since Delilah passed? Surely your children could use a mother.”

I smile. I can’t help it, even though the mention of my late wife sends a sharp stab of pain directly into my chest, because Masseo has walked directly into the path of the idea I formed, while I watched Bella flee down the hall. “I actually had that exact thought, as I was talking to your daughter.”

Masseo frowns. “I’m afraid I don’t follow. You said you weren’t interested in marriage.”

“Not marriage. But since I don’t plan to marry again, I do need someone to help me with the children. My housekeeper, Agnes, is like family, and she’s been invaluable to me, helping me all this time. I’ve had short-term help, too, from time to time. But what I really need is a live-in nanny. Someone who could take some of the pressure off of Agnes. She’s not getting any younger, and someone like that would provide some much-needed stability for Danilo and Cecelia, too, I think.”

Masseo’s frown deepens. “Are you asking for recommendations? Because I’m afraid I don’t have any. It’s been a long time since I’ve needed any such thing.”

“Not a recommendation. A different solution for your daughter.” I lean forward, slightly. “It’s clear she’s unhappy with the prospect of being married. So rather than pushing her into it, why not allow her to come and work for me? She’d be well provided for.”

His eyebrows rise at that. “You want my daughter to work for you?” There’s a hint of offense in his tone, and I know I need to tread carefully. “I may not have the wealth of others, Esposito, but I still have the D’Amelio name. My daughter does not need to work .”

The switch to my surname puts me on guard. It’s clear that Masseo doesn’t have a high opinion of my idea. “Of course not,” I assure him. “And I know all of this is none of my business?—”

“That’s correct,” Masseo growls, and I give him a conciliatory nod.

“But if your daughter is so clearly distraught over this, wouldn’t it be better to give her time to ease into the idea of it?”

His eyes narrow. “And how would being in your home, as a nanny, ease Bella into the idea of marriage?” There’s a clear note of suspicion in his voice, but I can understand it. I’d think less of him, really, if he weren’t cautious at the idea of allowing his daughter to go and live with a widowed man.

“Being in my home, around my children, will show her how happy she could be in a marriage where she has those things of her own—her own household, her own family to raise. She’ll see that that sort of life isn’t such a terrible thing, and she’ll start to want it for herself. And then she’ll be open to the prospects that you have for her.”

It all slips easily off of my tongue, despite the fact that, as far as I’m concerned, it’s all a load of shit. I doubt being away from her family home and having a taste of independence will make Bella warm to the idea of being trapped in an arranged marriage. But I could be wrong. It’s entirely possible that getting to know my children, and working in a role as caretaker for them, will do exactly that, and make Bella want a home and family of her own.

Either way, if her father agrees, it allows me to help her—at least for a little while. And it helps me out a great deal, as well.

“I’ll pay her a wage, of course,” I add, seeing that Masseo still looks skeptical. At that, his eyes brighten slightly, and he shows a flicker of interest.

“She doesn’t have any need for an income. Especially if her room and board will be provided as a part of the position, as you say. But you can pay it to me directly, and I’ll set it aside in a trust fund.”

I don’t believe for a second that Bella will see that money. But I can also tell that if I push back, Masseo won’t agree.

Why does this matter to me so much? I don’t have an answer for that. There’s no explainable reason why I feel the deep-seated need to help this girl, who I only briefly met, while she ran down a hallway crying. I only know that I do, and that this is the most plausible way I can think of to help her. It solves two problems, really—my desire to do something for her, and my need for someone to help Agnes with my children. Everything that I told Masseo about that is the truth—I have no plans to remarry, but they need someone. And the stability of having someone who lives in my home, not someone who comes and goes, will make a difference.

Masseo lets out a long breath, and I can see the calculating look behind his eyes. I dislike it. I would never have classified us as friends—we’re just business associates. But the clear greed that I can see as he realizes he can make money off of this arrangement with his daughter leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

“I’ll talk to Bella about it tonight,” Masseo starts to say, and I shake my head.

“I’d prefer to talk to her about it myself.”

Masseo chuckles. “Are you inviting yourself to dinner, Gabriel?”

Back to first names, I see . “No, I don’t think so.” I smile tersely. “I’ll take her out to dinner myself, and have the conversation.”

His eyebrow raises. “You want to take her out?”

“Yes.”

Masseo looks startled by the sudden, commanding change in my tone, and that pleases me. I have a sudden desire to see him cowed, and I sit forward, the smile on my face turning pleasant.

“When?” he asks, and I can feel the balance of power in the room shifting. That pleases me, too.

I sit back, with the feeling that I’ve won this round, in a battle that, twenty minutes ago, I didn’t even know I’d be fighting. But it feels good.

“Tell her to be ready at seven. Tomorrow night.”