Page 3 of Vicious Temptation
2
GABRIEL
Icame 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.”