The bird cage was made by a goldsmith in New York City. The cost wouldn’t be something my uncle could afford to pay himself. But I believe he had a patron.
If I’m right, then it confirms that my uncle is my enemy.
My mind drifts to my meeting with Danny Greco’s mother. To how she looked at Rafa. To how she remembered him.
I glance over at my cousin.
He must feel my eyes on him because he turns his head. There’s a moment of nothing. Then he nods before looking away.
The driver takes us to the hotel when we arrive. Clear Meadows is an hour drive from here and Gabriela’s excitement is palpable. If it were up to her, we’d go straight there, but I want to go with her, and I first need to shower, change and meet with the goldsmith.
I’m having Rafa take her to a shop to buy Gabe a half-birthday present and two soldiers have been instructed to follow Rafa and Gabriela. I won’t take any chances with her, but I wouldn’t leave him in Sicily either.
If it were anyone else, I would already have taken care of it. I wouldn’t ask any more questions. But Rafa, he’s been a brother to me. We grew up together. He stood by my side during my family’s fall. And I don’t like questioning his loyalty.
“I’m ready,” Gabriela says when I walk out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my hips, still dripping from my shower.
She’s beaming.
I haven’t seen her this happy in, well, I’ve never seen her this happy.
I go to her, take her arms and tug her to me. “The shops haven’t even opened yet,” I tell her, looking her over. She’s wearing a light pink halter dress that comes to just above her knees and a pair of flat sandals. “You look good, Gabriela.”
Her gaze slides down to my bare chest, to the tattoo over my heart. Her fingertips brush over the skin there.
“Did it hurt?”
I shrug.
She slides her fingers lower to the thick scar tissue. “How about this one?”
“That one did. But I needed it.”
She looks up at me. “What do you mean?”
“It taught me a valuable lesson.” I kiss her.
“What lesson?”
I smile, kiss her again, turn her around and lift her hair to untie the bow that’s keeping the dress up.
“Stefan,” she starts, glancing over her shoulder at me. “We don’t have time.”
“We have time,” I say, turning her to face me and kissing her. “And I want to take my time.”
She’s not wearing a bra and I cup one breast while walking her backward to the bed. I don’t put her on it though. Instead, when her knees hit it, I put one hand to her shoulder and push her to kneel.
She looks up at me with those pretty, huge eyes. Innocent eyes.
I think how I’m going to dirty her.
Leaning down, I kiss her mouth, dropping my towel as I do. I weave my fingers into her hair and tug her head backward.
“I owe you a lesson,” I whisper. “I promised to teach you how to suck my cock.”
I draw back, straighten and look down at her, at those greedy eyes she’s unable to keep from my dick, at her hungry little tongue that darts out to lick her lips.
“Open, baby,” I say. “And kiss my cock.” She obeys, first licking precum off before kissing the head then taking me into her mouth.
That’s not going to be enough for me today though.
I grin, lean into her so the bed supports the back of her head. I guide myself deeper.
“I’m going to need a little more, sweetheart,” I say, sliding in and out slowly, feeling the warm, soft, wet mouth, seeing the panic in her eyes as I tilt her head back to go deeper.
Her hands come to my thighs and tears form at the corners of her eyes.
I hold there. Watch her like this.
“Do you trust me?” I ask, drawing back just a little, just enough for her to catch a breath before pushing in again, deeper this time, touching the back of her throat. “Do you?” I pull out, force her head back. “Do you trust me, Gabriela?”
She considers for a long minute and fuck my timing. I want to be back inside her. Back inside her warm, hot little mouth.
Finally, she nods.
I smile, slide my cock in again, pump in and out twice more before pulling out and leaning down to kiss her.
“That’s good,” I whisper. “Because you’re going to need to trust me when I fuck your face.” I straighten, grip a handful of hair and tug her head backward as I set one foot on the edge of the bed and push into her.
She says something, I think it’s my name, but it sounds gurgled.
“Fuck, you are so pretty with my cock stuffed inside your mouth. Put your fingers on your pussy and rub your clit,” I tell her.
I wait, watching as she does as she’s told and when I hear the wet sounds of her pussy, I fuck her face hard, giving her everything, watching her take it, take me. Watching her swallow down my seed as she comes on her sticky little fingers.
22
Gabriela
I’m disappointed that it’s Rafa who takes me out to buy Gabe a gift while Stefan goes to an appointment. Rafa seems as pleased as I am to have to babysit me.
“I can go on my own,” I say. I know the city. I know what I want to buy my brother and from where to buy it.
“No, you can’t,” he says as the driver drops us off in front of the boutique toy store. “You’re Stefan’s wife now. You need protection.”
“You seem about as happy to babysit me as I am to be babysat.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Rafa, did I do something to you that made you dislike me?”
I’m not sure he’s surprised by the question.
“He likes you, that’s all.”
Is he jealous? He must see the confusion and surprise on my face because he shakes his head.
“I mean it gives his enemies a target. A way to hurt him.”
I study him and what I see in his eyes, it’s a war. Rafa is fighting some battle and I think Stefan and I and what we just discussed is a part of that battle.
I reach out and touch his hand. “You’re a good friend to him.”
He doesn’t reply, doesn’t even look at me.
“I’ll be in in a minute,” he finally says. “Just going to have a smoke.”
He’s dismissing me.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
He opens the door, steps out. “Fine.” He gestures to the door of the old shop and I go to it, push it open, hearing the bell over the door. The instant that door closes behind me, I’m transported to another world.
This is where my mom bought our gifts when we were growing up and after her death, for reasons I don’t wholly understand, my father kept up the tradition. He probably had someone do the shopping for him, but still, he did it. And even though the gifts were bitter sweet after mom died, they were still special.
“Gabriela Marchese?” comes a familiar voice. “Is that you?”
I look up at the register set on a raised, dark wooden platform, and through the high-quality puppets and dolls and old-fashioned register, I see Mr. Poe.
I smile, go to him.
“Mr. Poe, you’re still working the register?” I ask as the tiny man walks around the counter, down the steps and toward me. He’s gotten older, the big bush of curly black hair now salt-and-pepper. And he’s slightly hunched, which makes him appear even shorter than his five feet.