The Mafia Heir I Shouldn’t Love

Chapter 5

“Thank you,” the young man says brightly, “They are beautiful and fragrant. In fact, I was planning on buying a bouquet for a girl.”

Upon hearing his words, the florist moves quickly to hand him one of her floral arrangements, filled with equally stunning roses.

“Oh!” the young man exclaims as the florist offers him the arrangement. I watch him reach into his pocket; he pulls out a black leather wallet, hands her a folded bill, and pays. “Please, use the change to restock whatever I used from your first aid kit.”

“No, please,” the florist says, “This is a gift from me. This lady is a regular customer of mine; I couldn't possibly charge you for the flowers after how you helped her.”

The young man offers an awkward smile; I suppose he doesn't like owing anything to anyone, even though he didn't just treat the old woman's wound—he saved me as well.

“I appreciate it,” he says, looking somewhat surprised but happy at the same time. Shortly after, the old woman, carrying her slightly battered bouquet, walks away from us until she turns the corner where a sign indicates where that street leads: Cimitero.

Once the old woman vanishes from sight, I turn back to the young man in front of me. Without me noticing, he and the florist have held a brief conversation and, from what I can overhear, he has paid for several floral arrangements for whenever the lady decides to return to this spot.

“Thank you, you’re very kind,” I finally find the courage to say.

“I think it’s the least I could do after what happened,” he says, as if he felt guilty for the altercation with that rogue.

“Do you know him?” I ask, intrigued; given how the man reacted upon seeing him, it’s the most likely scenario.

“Not really, but he works for my father, so I suppose he knows me,” he admits. “I am very sorry.”

He holds out the bouquet of flowers to me, and although I take them, I look at him with confusion.

“For me?” My cheeks flush again; I didn't expect him to give them to me. “Didn't you say they were for a girl?”

“You are the girl, and this is a reward for your bravery,” he says, winking at me. Instinctively, I bring the bouquet to my face and, just like the rose the woman gave me, they are just as beautiful and aromatic.

“Thank you so much...” I repeat, this time with my cheeks burning. “You haven’t told me your name.”

“Ha!” I hear him say as he gives me a nervous smile. “I’ll tell you the next time we meet.”

He bows slightly and takes my hand delicately to plant a kiss on the back of it. He is very reserved, yet bold and, in a way, romantic.

“Romy?” I hear a familiar voice. Looking for the source, I see Alessandro approaching from the other side of the sidewalk. I smile and raise my hand to greet him. “Was I not clear?”

“I know, I know, I shouldn't go out alone, but I'm not...” I turn to my left to introduce Alessandro to the young man who saved me, but, unexpectedly, he is no longer there. He seems to have vanished into thin air.

“And that bouquet of roses?” Alessandro asks, leaning in to smell the fragrance emanating from them. “Did you just buy it?”

“No, actually...” I stop and weigh my response. Alessandro would surely be upset if I told him a stranger gave them to me, especially when I’m not supposed to talk to anyone I don't know due to the conflict in Verona. I don't know the Carusso family, and I could run into one of them in these streets. “Vittoria commissioned it. I’m going home now.”

“Are you with your father's chauffeur?” he asks immediately.

“Actually, I came alone; I’ll take a taxi,” I say, looking down shyly, expecting a scolding, but he only shakes his head and sighs.

“Then I’ll walk you to get one,” he says, stepping beside me so we can walk together. I take his arm, and we both advance down the street until we finally reach the station. Alessandro speaks with one of the drivers and, unexpectedly, pays the fare.

“There was no need for you to pay for me, I brought money,” I explain, somewhat surprised. He hadn't even done that when we were teenagers; I gather that maturity has done him good.

“That way you’ll feel guilty the next time you decide to go out alone,” he scolds me, but it doesn't surprise me. He opens the door for me, and I step into the car.

Alessandro gives the address to the taxi driver, perhaps to ensure I really go home, and the man nods.

“Don’t you worry, Father, your sister will make it home safe,” he says to please him, but Alessandro raises his eyebrows in surprise.

I burst into laughter. It doesn't surprise me that he said that; after all, he is wearing his black cassock and I have a bouquet of flowers. It’s not that we look like a couple—his uniform gives us away—but he is so attentive to me that people deduce things, even if the fact that we are friends isn't one of them.

“Goodbye, little brother,” I tease Alessandro as the driver starts the engine. He steps away from the window and waves goodbye.

Luckily for me, the taxi drops me off at the same spot as always: three blocks before reaching my house. The taxi service doesn't travel through this area because rumors say the Montteci family resides here, and they are too afraid to risk an altercation.

There are quite a few large residences around; most belong to people who work for my father in some way, either directly or indirectly. That’s why it’s said this area belongs to the Monttecis. It’s a place full of trees, very peaceful and quiet, so walking back is relaxing for me.

When I get home, I ask the nonna to put my bouquet of roses in a vase and take it to my room. Although it seems strange to her, knowing we have a garden full of equally beautiful flowers, she takes them and leaves them on a small table near my bed.

After eating, I spend the rest of the afternoon doing my hair, my nails, and putting on a bit of makeup to match my outfit, though I don't put much effort into the latter knowing I’ll be wearing a masque.

By the time I finish, it’s six in the evening; it’s already dark, so it won’t be long before Vittoria arrives. I remember the jewelry she ordered for us. I take them out of the bag; both are in elegant cases. Mine matches my dress. I feel like a princess in a fairy tale; the problem is that I am heading toward a castle where the very dragon that fights my family resides.

“I hope you’re ready already,” Vittoria threatens in a powerful voice, so loud it can be heard from the other side of the door.

I spin around on the bench where I’m sitting. Vittoria walks in looking dazzling. She is wearing the same dress we bought yesterday and, although the cut tries to imitate medieval fashion, my dear cousin looks elegant and charming.

“But look at you,” she says, surprised. “You look truly beautiful. If we didn't have to wear these masks, I’m sure you wouldn't leave the party without a couple of new admirers.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” I say, approaching her. She gives me a kiss on the cheek and looks me up and down again. “Here, put this on.”

She hands me a masque which I place over my eyes and tie under my hair so as not to ruin the style, while she puts on the earrings and necklace she chose.

“What do you think?” she asks excitedly. “Is it not too much?”

I contemplate the necklace on her neck; the center gem is quite large, but it doesn't overshadow her beauty, so I shake my head.

“All right, it’s time to go,” she declares excitedly. I am more nervous than ever because of everything happening in Verona. I don't know if I can truly reach an agreement with this Julius person to settle the conflicts our parents haven't deigned to dissipate. It makes me think that perhaps they no longer wish to remain in the shadows, but have finally decided on war.

“It’s getting late,” Vittoria mentions, “we’d better head out.”

“Don’t you think we should leave through the garden door?” I suggest. “My father wanted to dissuade you from us going alone; I’m sure he already knows you’re here.”

“In that case, let’s go that way. I don't want to hear your dad’s sermon; I’ve had enough with my mom’s.”

“If she didn't agree to let you go, how did you escape?” I dare to ask. My aunt is usually quite severe with her when it comes to her safety.

“I have my tricks too,” she mentions with a playful smile. “I told her we were having a sleepover, like when we were girls.”

“If you didn't tell her the truth, why did she scold you?”

“Well, you know how I was as a child when we had sleepovers at your house; she thinks I’m just bothering you and being impertinent,” she says, somewhat embarrassed. I just burst into laughter. We are both adults, yet we are treated as if we were rebellious teenagers or children in need of protection.

“All right, you can stay, but wake up early. You know how nonna is when I sleep in late,” I joke. She rolls her eyes, perhaps remembering the time the nonna used to throw cold water on her to wake her up; it was funny and cruel at the same time. She has always been strict with her because, as children, they used to punish me for her sake.

Vittoria smiles and nods. We both leave my room in silence, walking down the stairs carefully to avoid being seen. There are still employees on patrol; perhaps we can't avoid them, but by the time they give their report, we’ll already be gone.

I follow Vittoria stealthily to the garden. In the distance, we see a couple of guards on their usual rounds, but they say nothing when they see us; I suppose they recognize us.

We round the house via the side path until we reach the main driveway where Vittoria left her car. We climb in, careful not to slam the doors. She starts the engine, which I’m grateful is silent, and we begin our escape. Even at the guard post, they say nothing upon recognizing the vehicle. We don't declare victory until we leave the area controlled by the Monttecis.

My nerves grow as we pass through the city center, the neutral zone, and finally begin to travel through the southern zone: Carusso territory.

What impresses me is that Vittoria recognizes the streets. I wonder how many times she has come to this area and if this Julius person even dared to bring her to his house. Luckily, she said he wasn't her type, and when she says that, it’s true. She might lie to my aunt, but not to me. That reassures me and makes me think that their relationship, more than friendship, is a matter between families that also worries her.