God Of Vengeance (Kings Of Mafia)

With the wedding date scheduled for next Saturday, we’ve been super busy.

Mrs. Accardi’s been an enormous help. Honestly, she’s done most of the work.

I got to spend some time with Damiano, but tonight, the other heads of the Cosa Nostra and their partners are coming over, and I’m nervous as hell.

I’ve just put on the sheer body suit and high heels when Damiano comes into my walk-in closet. His eyes land on me, and he stops dead in his tracks.

“No,” he growls as he slowly starts to shake his head, his expression darkening by the second. “There is no fucking way you’re wearing that in front of the other men.”

“Hold on before you burst a vein,” I mutter.

I grab the cream jacket out of my closet and put it on. When I fasten the belt, and the fabric spreads out like a short skirt, I say, “See. Everything’s covered.”

He stares at me for a while before he says, “Fine. But the fucking jacket stays on at all times.”

I walk closer to him, and wrapping my fingers behind his neck, I pull him a little down. Against his lips, I whisper, “It will only come off when you take it off.”

His hands settle on my hips, and our eyes lock.

“Keep tempting me, and I’ll cancel the poker game.”

My features tighten with nerves. “Do you think they’ll approve of me?”

He lifts a hand to my face and cups my cheek. “Only my approval matters, mia regina. They have no choice but to accept you.”

When he pulls away, I say, “I’m just going to do my makeup. I’ll be down soon.”

“Take your time,” he murmurs before leaving the room.

I remove the jacket, so I don’t get powder on it, and sitting by my dressing table, I get to work.

I take extra care with the eyeshadow and highlight my cheekbones.

When I’m done, I put on the jacket again before adding a black choker with a single diamond around my neck.

Looking at my reflection, I lift my chin.

You’ve got this.

Leaving my bedroom, I head down the stairs. When I reach the second floor’s landing, I see Damiano greeting a group of men, their women standing near them, but not touching my man.

One of the men glances in my direction, and shock flashes over his features as he says, “Now it makes sense.”

“What?” Another man asks before he sees me. “Holy fuck.”

Damiano’s eyes lock on me, and he walks to the bottom of the stairs. His tone is soft as he orders, “Come, mia regina.”

My heart beats a little faster as I take the stairs down to him, and when I place my hand in his, I lift my chin higher and look at the other men.

“Introduce me,” I say with the same tone Damiano uses when issuing a demand.

Damiano gestures at each of the men. “Angelo Rizzo and his wife, Vittoria. Franco Vitale and his wife, Samantha. Renzo Torrisi and Skylar. And last but not least, Dario La Rosa and Eden.”

I don’t reach my hand out and nod at them instead. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Looking stunned, Angelo shakes his head, then he glances at Damiano, who says, “This is Gabriella di Bella. My fiancée.”

“Holy fuck,” Renzo mutters again. “You got engaged? When?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Damiano replies.

“Just nod if you need to escape,” Dario says, his tone playful.

Damiano lets go of my hand and wraps his arm around my lower back.

His voice is dark as he growls, “Don’t start with me, Dario.”

Pulling away from him, I glance at the women. A smile tugs at my mouth as I say, “Care to join me in the sitting room?”

“Yes, please,” Samantha says.

As we walk to the sitting room where Aunt Aida and Mrs. Accardi are waiting, Vittoria murmurs, “I love your outfit.”

“Thank you.” I offer her a grateful smile. When we walk into the room, I say, “Our guests are here, Aunt Aida.”

While the women greet Aunt Aida and Mrs. Accardi, I take a moment to look at the women.

They’re all beautiful, but it doesn’t escape my attention that I’m the shortest.

I lift my chin higher as I take a seat on an armchair.

As soon as everyone is comfortable, Samantha looks at me. “So…you’re engaged to Damiano? We weren’t aware he was dating.”

“We didn’t date,” I answer honestly.

“It’s an arranged marriage?” Vittoria asks. When I nod, she says, “It was the same for me and Angelo.” My eyes lower to her pregnant belly, then she adds, “We’re very happy.”

“When are you due?”

“Soon.” She lets out a chuckle. “But not soon enough.”

My eyes drift to Skylar and Eden, and noticing Eden looks a little uncomfortable, I say, “Eden, you must be feeling out of sorts, having just met everyone as well?”

“You have no idea,” she chuckles. “It’s a little overwhelming.”

“We’ll get used to everything together,” I assure her.

“Ahh, here’s the tea and cake,” Mrs. Accardi says as Martha pushes a cart into the sitting room.

There’s also wine with a cheese and crackers platter, catering for those who prefer something salty.

I glance at Aunt Aida, and reaching over, I place my hand on hers. “Would you like some cake?”

She nods. “Just a small piece, cara.”

Everyone waits for me to get tea and cake for Aunt Aida before they start to help themselves.

I place the tea on the side table and guide Aunt Aida’s hand to the plate. “It’s carrot cake. I know you don’t like the icing, so I took it off.”

“Thank you, cara,” she murmurs.

I get some tea for myself, and sitting down, I keep an eye on my future mother-in-law in case she needs help.

“Seeing as everyone’s here,” Mrs. Accardi says. “The wedding is on the twenty-first.”

“Of which month?” Skylar asks.Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

“This month,” I answer. “It’s next Saturday, and you’re all invited. The invitations will be delivered on Monday.”

“Wow, Damiano isn’t wasting any time,” Samantha murmurs.

I let out a chuckle. “No, he isn’t.”

“Do you need help with the arrangements?” Vittoria asks.

“Mrs. Accardi has everything under control,” I reply. “Thank you for the offer, though.”

“Call me Aunt Greta, cara,” she says, a frown forming on her forehead. “I didn’t even realize you were still calling me Mrs. Accardi.”

“Aunt Greta has arranged everything for the wedding,” I repeat, giving her a playful look.

“That’s much better,” she mutters.

“The catering as well?” Skylar asks.

Aunt Greta has a proud expression as she says, “Thank you, but it’s all taken care of. All you have to do is come and enjoy the celebration with us.”

The conversation hovers around the topic of the upcoming wedding, and soon, all the women relax, and we’re talking as if we’ve known each other for years.

Damiano

“You’re engaged,” Dario mutters for the tenth time since we started the game.

“I’m going to fucking kill you if you mention it again,” I growl as I throw down the shitty hand I was dealt.

Carlo sets a tumbler of whiskey down beside me before he takes a seat on one of the armchairs in my private lounge.

“When did you meet her?” Angelo asks.

“The trip to Sicily,” I reply.

“To give Stefano your blessing?” he asks, then his eyes widen. “You took her from your cousin?”

I nod, then order, “I’m done talking about Gabriella.”

“All jokes aside,” Dario says. “Is she okay marrying you?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I growl at him.

He holds my stare. “You’re not the easiest person to get along with.”

I can see he’s actually worried about her, and letting out a sigh, I mutter, “Gabriella is much stronger than she looks. She knows how to handle me, so back the fuck off.”

Dario nods, knowing not to push me any further.

“Did you find out who started the fire at the hotel?” Angelo asks, changing the subject.

I shake my head. “I think it was Miguel. There hasn’t been any trouble since I killed him.”

“That’s good news,” he mutters as he places a card on the table. “You better give me a good card,” he tells Renzo.

“Don’t shoot the dealer,” Renzo chuckles as he places a card in front of Angelo.

“I need two,” Franco says.

“I’m good.” Dario grins.

“Fucker,” Franco mutters, and not even looking at the two new cards, he bows out of the game.

“Let me see your hand,” Renzo demands.

“You first,” Dario taunts him.

They all put their hands down, and Dario smirks at his royal flush. “Pay up.”

“I swear, if I ever catch you cheating, you’re dead,” Franco grumbles as he pushes his stack of cash toward Dario.

“If you’re good, you’re good,” Dario brags.

“How’s business?” I ask.

“Good,” Angelo answers. “I’m going to open another club.”

“I just completed a big arms deal,” Renzo mentions.

“Where and with who?” I ask.

“Filippo Vero. He’s based in Italy.”

When I don’t recognize the name, I ask, “What does he do?”

“Just buys and sells arms,” Renzo answers.

I glance at Franco. “And you?”

“Business is good as usual.”

“How are the triplets?” Dario asks Franco.

The conversation turns to the kids, and letting out a sigh, I take a sip of my whiskey.

I wonder how long it will take for Gabriella to get pregnant.

Picturing her pregnant with my child has the corner of my mouth curve up.

“He’s smiling,” Dario gasps.

I quickly school my face and glare at the fucker.

“You have to tell us what you were thinking about,” Renzo says, a broad grin on his face.

“Nothing that concerns you,” I mutter. “Deal the next hand.”