Chapter 51 Chapter Fifty-one
Nikolai's POV
"Go pack your bags we are leaving." Don Moretti's words echo in the room like another gunshot. The air was already thick with the smell of blood and gunpowder, tension still clinging to the walls of the mansion. But that sentence was like declaring a silent war. It never turned out well when one Mafia family leaves another Mafia family’s house in anger, it is like silently saying the trust between them is gone. Not like the word trust belongs to the world of the mafia, but their families you could build a comfort zone with.
I know Father wouldn't like this, even if he seems to have a hidden agenda, something only he and Rafael understand. My gaze went to my father across the room; he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple as if this were a mild inconvenience instead of a declaration of war between families. “Come on, Valkor,” father said, using Moretti’s first name in that careful tone men use when they are trying not to ignite something explosive. “It’s late. You can’t just leave like that. This happened at a mafia party.”
“You call this an accident?” Moretti barked. His voice echoed off the high ceilings, the maid froze mid-step, and even the guards at the door straightened. And that is the real Don Valkor Moretti. The way he is reacting was the way he would have reacted. I wondered what took him so long to get mad; probably, he was this calm because of his little girl. “You brought that no-good Luca Brasi,” Moretti continued, fury sharpening every word. “That hitman, and he came with the heir of the Salvatore family, and you think what happened tonight is just a coincidence?”
A muscle ticked in father, Don Alessandro’s jaw, “Don’t overthink it,” he said carefully, I want to believe father had nothing to do with this but something in me refuse to let me, first father said his wife would be here but she is nowhere to be find and he had practically persuade Moretti to stay back with his family.
“I shouldn’t overthink it?” Moretti took a step forward. “What if something worse had happened? What if one of my daughters had been shot? You assured me security was tight. You reassured me my family would be safe. And then gunmen came from every corner of this house firing like it was a battlefield.”
Alessandro exhaled heavily. “These things happen.”
“I know they happen,” Moretti snapped, “but not at a party where I brought my girls. Not at a family gathering as you call it." Silence followed, dangerous silence, and the females didn't say a word. “And you think I would be standing here calmly,” Moretti added, voice lowering into something far more lethal, “if Brasi had touched even a strand of their hair?”
“Valkor,” Alessandro said firmly, “you know Brasi is not responsible.”
That stopped Moretti for half a second. He stared at my father, Alessandro, “Oh?” he said slowly. “You seem very sure of that. Is there something I don’t know?” The temperature in the room dropped because now this wasn’t about gunfire, it was about trust and betrayal. Moretti’s gaze sharpened. “Your son seems comfortable parading that man’s daughter around tonight. Leaving my daughter to fend for herself.” There it was, the accusation everyone pretended not to notice, all night, and I was wondering what's wrong with this man, if he didn't see his daughter's supposed fiancée parading another female in a party where he attended, father parted his lips to respond but before he could do, the door opened, and Rafael, my beloved brother walked in. All eyes fell on him.
He stopped at the sight of both patriarchs staring at him like judges about to pass sentence, “Ask your son,” Moretti said coolly. “Ask him where he is coming from.”
Rafael frowned slightly. “I...”
“Go on,” Moretti cut him off. “I assume you were busy protecting that woman while my daughter had to take care of herself.”
Rafael’s confusion deepened. “That is not...”
“I doubt,” Moretti continued, relentless now, “that you’ve treated my daughter well at all while she has been under this roof for the past week.”
“Father,” Elena’s voice came, sharp and strained, I turned instinctively in her direction, she had sat upright, from where she was leaning close to Shannon
“Enough,” Moretti ordered without looking at her. “I know you love him. But I will not allow my daughter to be treated like trash.” My jaw tightened, I love him. If ever one day, I have a daughter, I'm going to spoil her like Moretti does his daughter. “If there is no good explanation,” Moretti finished, “I am calling off the engagement.”
“No, Father!” Elena’s voice cracked through the room, every head turned toward her, including mine. Our eyes met for a split second; I didn’t mask what I felt. I was disappointed, and she saw it, I know she did because her shoulders stiffened, and she dropped her gaze.
She stepped forward quickly. “It wasn’t Rafael’s fault,” she said, her voice steady and firm. “I was the one who asked him to go with his secretary. I didn’t want to leave Shannon alone after staying away from her for a week.” Lie, the lie rolled off her tongue smoothly, and somehow she sounded convincing.
But I had been there, from the beginning, and I had seen Rafael walk out of that hallway with Arabella draped over him like a trophy. When the gunfight started, the first person Rafael had secured was Arabella, the one woman whom he is telling everyone that she is just his friend. I know she was protecting him, but the question is, why? Why is she protecting him?
Don Alessandro seized the opening. “Valkor,” he said firmly, “don’t take this too far. Our families have come a long way. I will personally find out who orchestrated tonight’s attack.”
Moretti didn't acknowledge his father. Instead, he stared at Elena for a long moment, searching her face, measuring the truth. Finally, he exhaled, “I will let it slide this time,” he said coldly. “But the next time something like this happens, I will not be so forgiving.” Alessandro nodded in relief. “But,” Moretti added, “we are leaving.”
“If you leave,” Alessandro countered, “then you are still angry with me.”
“I am not,” Moretti said bluntly.
A faint, tense smile touched Alessandro’s lips. “Then stay, leave in the morning, let tonight not end in division.”
Moretti considered it, then he finally nodded, after a brief silence, “Fine, we leave first thing tomorrow.”
"I think I should get going, brother," Carson said softly, picking up his things. He lives here in Italy, on the other side of the city with their dad.
"You're staying also." His voice leaves no room for argument.
"But I didn't tell father that I will not..."
"I will do that for you," he cut Carson off, I saw the young man look at himself.
"I could give you my pajamas," Shannon said softly.
"Do you want to turn Carson into a girl?" Elena ruffles Shannon's hair, and Amara rolls her eyes, while Moretti just shakes his head. Father asked the maid to prepare rooms for them, Elena said she would stay with Shannon, and Don Moretti and Amara are sharing the same room while Carson was shown a room beside me.
Hours later, the mansion fell into uneasy quietness, and guests retired to their assigned rooms. Guards doubled their watch. The scent of gunpowder still lingered faintly in the halls but the maid was cleaning the mess already.
When I retired to my room, I couldn’t sleep, I tossed side to side on the bed, but sleep refused to come. I grabbed my phone to call Matteo, but the fucker forwarded my call to voicemail. "Stupid dick!" I curse, throwing my phone to the other side of my bed, I knew that stupid boy insisted on going home after the gunfire because he is up to something, "I will just get a glass of milk." So I reluctantly got off my bed and went to the kitchen. Immediately, I pulled the door, my heart almost left my chest.