Page 55 of Beauty and the Mafia Boss

“About you, Gabriella! Who else would it be about?”

“What? Why?”

“Well, let's see... First...” She raises a finger in the air and then starts walking, forcing me to do the same. We go to the middle of the room, and I sit down, deciding that I don't know if I have the structure to have this conversation standing up. Rafa, however, remains standing, as if she were actually about to give me a lesson, not in Italian, but in the gossip of the radio corridor. “You moved into the Don's wing and never, Gabriella, in twelve years, had any woman set foot in this wing, except forSignoraAnna and the maids, of course. And all the maids who came here came solely for professional reasons, very different from what happens in the underboss's wing,quel stronzo[75].” Rafaellawrinkles her nose when talking about Vittorio's brother, and I find it strange, but I'm too worried about my own problems to pay attention to it right now.

“But that's because I'm his prisoner!” I explain the obvious.

“A prisoner he takes to gala events, for whom he buys clothes and sends a beauty team? A prisoner who gets her own security team and authorization to go wherever she wants?” she says, and I blink. “Rumors are that the Don is in love with you.”

I choke on my own saliva at a level where I think I'm going to die. I never thought the expression “scared to death” was a real possibility until this moment. My breathing is all wrong and I cough desperately, but that doesn't help at all.

Rafaella approaches and pats my back in a completely unreasonable aid, since my problem is not choking, but of course she doesn't know that, because I can't tell. It's two minutes of intense agony until the first unobstructed inspiration reaches my lungs.

“You all have lost your minds!” These are the first words I say after I'm sure I'm not going to die. “You have completely lost your minds!”

CHAPTER 29

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Vittorio Cataneo

I wasn't expecting that.

I fix the tie that I know is impeccably in place and clear my throat as Gabriella gets into the car I didn't get out of. I waited for her, distracted by the information on my cell phone screen, and I didn't see her approaching, so I was caught completely off guard by her looks... Exuberant.

The knee-length black dress clings to the Brazilian's curves, shaping each one of them and revealing an intriguing portion of skin through a slit on her left thigh. The fabric has a silk-like sheen and contrasts perfectly with Gabriella's fair skin tone. The wrap-around cut highlights the round breasts, slim shoulders, and long neck.

Gabriella has tied her hair in a low ponytail and wears a crimson velvet bow over it. Her face is almost clean of makeup, leaving her well-shaped lips to be the highlight as they are painted pink, black and crimson, the colors of the Holy One. Disconcerting.

“Is it inappropriate?” she asks, blinking her dark eyes, nervously. “I told Rafaella it was an exaggeration, but she insisted that...”

“It's perfect, Gabriella. You are perfect!” I interrupt her, and my words make the familiar shade of red color her cheeks.

Surprising myself for the second time in a very short space of time, my mind wonders: what other parts of Gabriella's body would take on this same tone under the right stimuli?

I look away and exhale slowly. When I look back at the girl, her lower lip is caught between her teeth. The silence occupying the car becomes thick, almost a third presence between us.

“Let's go” I tell Paolo, and the car starts to move. Gabriella looks around as if she is looking for something.

“Are we going alone?” She asks with a frown.

“What do you mean?”

“Your bodyguards, they are always with you.”

“Dario is always with me,” I correct, raising my index finger towards the front seat of the car. “The others sometimes go in another car.”

The same thing happened last week, when I took her to Rome, but I'm not surprised that Gabriella didn't notice that day. The girl was completely airborne for obvious reasons.

“But isn't that dangerous for your safety?” Before I can contain the impulse, my eyebrow rises, revealing how much by surprise the question takes me, but it shouldn't.

A woman who is capable of thanking the man who practically kidnapped her is definitely capable of worrying about his safety. The emotions jumping out of Gabriella's eyes in the home library earlier today are not unreasonable.

The life the girl had in Brazil was regrettable, and the misery, unhealthy conditions, and exhaustion to which she was constantly subjected were not the worst parts for the Brazilian.The absolute freedom of choice, for someone with Gabriella's submissive instincts, was.

Keeping her heart beating was an impulsive decision, a rare one, which today seems much more instinctive, given the way things turned out.

“My safety is not compromised, Gabriella. I guarantee you.” She nods, not noticing the amusement that permeated my words.

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