Chapter 11 (Aliyana)
“Would you like me to take your warm clothes out?”
“Yes, and a bra and panty too. What did you tell Papa you were doing?”
“I didn’t say anything, Miss Capello, your father got some news about one of his shipments, seems like
there is still someone killing the Catelli’s soldiers.”
“Any idea who it is?” I ask him as he goes about getting my clothes ready and I hop into the bathtub,
soaking up the heat that scorches my elbows.
“No, I think Deno is working on that. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”
“Your cousin seems nice,” I say to him as he brings my clothes to the bath area.
His stare is harsh, as he scowls at my naked flesh under the water.
“She is nice to your face, but remember she still sees you as a minor. She has yet to know you are the
root to a rose with deadly thorns.”
My skin flushes and I turn my back to his wandering gaze. That was enough torture for today. Because
that is what it is to him, torture.
“Salvatore.”
“Yes, Miss Capello?”
“Have you always chosen God over everything else?”
“Yes. Though I must admit Miss Capello, you tempt me at times.”
“But doesn’t that make your faith stronger?”
“I, I, yes, it does.”
“What would you do with your freedom if it were granted?” I ask him for the seventeenth time since he
told me about his Catholic upbringing.
“I would be a priest, and serve God until myst breath.”
“You gave me the same answer 17 times,” I point out.
“And it was 17 times you asked me the same question. Does it not warrant the same answer?”
I get up after washing the soap suds off my body and like the good man he is, he holds a towel open. I
look at him, so human, but his restraint is exceptional.
“Sometimes, I wonder Salvatore, if your answer is really an answer or more of a confession,” His jaw
tightens but he says nothing to that.
I tighten the towel and change into the ck track pants and long winter vest, saying nothing to the
silky bra he chose and grab the jersey from his outstretched hand.
My hair falls from its makeshift bun, as I jump on the bed patting the other side. Salvatore is my little
slice of heaven and I am his temptation to hell. While he is a made-man, he killed once, a long time
ago, by mistake and has never killed since. He is loyal, beastly looking and once you get to know him,
quite funny.
“Let me see it. Do you have it on your phone?” I ask him,
“No, I brought myptop,” He gets off the bed and pulls the bag from underneath the bed and I wait
patiently for him to set it up.
The video begins ying and I watch the familiar face talking to the hooded figure.
“Who is that?”
“I don’t know,” Something catches my eye and I pause.
“Is that...?”
“Yes, Mero,”
“What was he doing there, he said he was going to train.”
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I wait and see Mero walk to the back of the restaurant. 10 minutes go by before he walks back out and
leaves just as the hooded person leaves.
“That isn’t all,” Salvatore kills me further when he switches videos and the video changes to the outside
where the hooded figure is jumping into the car with Mero, just as Jack Creston walks out. It isn’t long
when a group of men covered in ck grab him and throw him in the van.
I sit back and take in all that I have just seen.
“Are you going to show Deno?” Salvatore asks and that is the big question. Am I? What was Mero
thinking? Was he tied up loose ends?
“There are too many questions that need to be answered. Tonight, keep yourself hidden. I hear Mero
and Michel are downstairs. Find out where Mero is sleeping and check if he brought anything with him.
He is sentimental and untrusting, which means whatever could implicate him would be on him. He
won’t stay on the property, you would need to break into his room.”
“What are we going to do to him?” Salvatore asks the question I don’t know the answer to.
“If it were anyone else, I would feed him to the wolves, but he is my friend, I can’t just sentence him to
death without knowing for sure.”
“I understand. But Deno would want something.”
“It isn’t Deno that we need to worry about, it’s Marco. I heard him talking to a man earlier when I
decided to go snooping around the ce. He mentioned something about kidnapping Dn Creston,
and me helping with that. Talking about helping, it is safe to say Gabriel is innocent which means we
should let him in on our little side thing.”
“I agree Miss Capello, Gabriel is innocent but he is very loyal.”
“And? What? He isn’t loyal to me?” I question Salvatore, as I take in the cream walls, and brown
wooden dresser with an oval mirror.
“Do you notice this room seems old?”
“Yes, the DeMarco’s lived here, many years back. This room belonged to Berenice Antone DeMarco,
wife of the first Godfather in America, Edio Gaspare DeMarco.”
I sit up and smile, “Serious? And I get to sleep in her room?”
Salvatore smiles, and his scar stretches, as his face transforms into a carefree version of himself, “Yes,
he loved his wife so much that he kept her here in this manor locked away for only his eyes alone, and
if you go to the library downstairs, there is a desk with a hiddenpartment. My mama said his
journal still is hidden in that desk, and so is pictures of his beloved, Berenice.”
“Did he spend his free time writing about her?” I find the story hard to believe, but Salvatore always
knows something about someone, which is why I think Deno gave him to me. A Holy man for his
brother’s unholy sin.
“I don’t know what he wrote in his journal, but I know he built a dome in the back garden when she died
and buried her inside it. I can show it to you tomorrow if you like?”
“Yes, tomorrow I want you to let everyone know you are here, as my guest. That way we can go
exploring and you can be my very own Chaperone.” We exchange a look and something warm and
calminges over me as I smile in glee.
Over the months, spending time with Salvatore didn’t help with the pain of what Marco did to me. Of
how he used me, gave me hope and then tossed me aside without a backward nce, he ruined me. I
take a deep breath, and look at the man who has shown me that I am better than what Marco Catelli
made me feel like. Salvatore has taught me that loving myself, and staying true to who I am is my
greatest weapon when ites to my foolish heart. I am stronger now, I am Bratva and Italian and I
am proud of who I am.
I spend the afternoon lying on the bed, forgetting about Mero, Marco, my sister Elise who left for
Chicago a month ago and everything else, as I stay lost in my mind trying to decide how to ask
Salvatore to be my male model. Gabriel is an artist''s dream, with his sculpted angr features. But
Salvatore is a painter’s forbidden fruit. He would be perfect in my showcase. Diamond and Kylie, two
pr opposites, and the eye of their affection, Salvatore, the untouched fallen angel.
The thought of forcing him to do it doesn’t seem right, because he wouldn’t want to strip naked in front
of me. I did it in front of him, because he said he has never felt temptation with a woman. Like myself,
Salvatore is a virgin.
I jolt, when a hard knockes on my door, “Aliyana. Come down it’s dinner time.” I take a deep
breath and see a sleeping Salvatore next to me, open his eyes and theptop which is still open on his
torso move.
“I’ming,” I say to my brother, who doesn’t sound too joyful to be knocking on my door, which
means I must have slept through the afternoon.
“Move your ass, I''m hungry.”
“Sto arrivando,” I''ming, I yell.
I hear him leave and turn to watch Salvatore stretch.
“I’ll wait ‘till you have gone then check Michel''s room in case Mero left something there.”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“No, I’ll grab something from the kitchen on my way out.”
“Out? To where? I want you here,” I tell him as he scowls.
“I can’t stay here with you, if you want me toe tomorrow it has to be like I am only arriving Miss
Capello.”
“Fine, but let me know when you are safe.”
“I am your protector, why do you insist on being mine?”
The question takes me a minute to actually ponder. I never considered it, but was I his protector?
“I don’t know, maybe I just want you to stick around a bit longer.” His mouth goes thin at my answer and
his jaw hardens but he says nothing in response and like that I leave him, and my safety behind.