Page 12

12

Allegra

S tanding on the balcony, I inhale the sweet smell of home. It’s dark, but that’s fine. I don’t need to see the land to feel at peace. The insects singing and the smell of the vines are enough for now. Tomorrow, I will take a long walk around the property and recentre myself.

I thought coming home would solve everything until I realised my problems were coming with me. By problems, I mean Bonnie Moorside. She’s going to be underfoot for God knows how long. As much as I’d love to lose myself in the vines for the next few weeks, I can’t. My days will be spent shackled to my desk, trying to untangle Lorenzo’s mess. Bonnie will be a constant presence I could do without.

On the plane ride home, I had to have an uncomfortable conversation with myself. Actually, it was more of an uncomfortable realisation. Bonnie gets under my skin and derails my usually impenetrable Ice Bitch persona. She rattles me, and there has only ever been one other person to have done that: Petra.

Petra Cortez was my first love and my rival for years. She was whip-smart and full of fire, just like Bonnie. We would never have survived, though. I know that now. But at the time, I thought we could overcome all our obstacles. The main one being we were parts of two different families that hardly ever saw eye to eye.

Our relationship lasted three years. Most of the time we had to sneak around, which in the beginning was fun, however I learned in the end, Petra had played me for a fool. She used the fact she could unbalance me to her advantage. After stealing valuable intel from my office, she left without a word. I’d been used.

For a long time, my stupid heart couldn’t let go of the idea Petra had to have loved me. How could she have faked the passion? I refused to believe it was all a lie. That was until I saw her eighteen months later with her husband. We were at a gala, and the moment she spotted me, her eyes went wide and her face paled.

By that time, I had hardened myself even more. She thought I was cold back then. Petra had no idea what I’d become since she humiliated me and broke my heart. I’d thrown myself into work after she ghosted me. I made new contacts and set about plotting my revenge. It was Lorenzo who’d picked me up and dusted me off. He told me to stop wallowing and take back control. So that’s what I did.

Over the course of those eighteen months, I systematically bought all of Petra’s and her husband’s debts. He was a terrible gambler, which I suspect was part of the reason she went through the whole charade of loving me to steal information that would make him some money. I’m sure it paid off in the short term, but his addiction was beyond her control, and within a year he had debt up to his greasy hair again.

So, once I procured the debt, I also began buying large amounts of stock in Petra’s family businesses. By the time I saw her at the gala, I owned her. She just didn’t know it. People may claim I never really loved her if I was able to be so callous in the end.

Wrong. I loved Petra with all my heart, but I would not be a victim. All this “turn the other cheek” and “be the bigger person” bullshit is for the weak. Someone scorns me, I return it tenfold. Life threw tragedy and pain at me from a young age. Well, I gave life the middle finger. And I gave Petra twenty-four hours to pay her debts and vacate her house. Petra’s family name was burned from the history books. I solidified the Ferrante family as the most powerful name in Italy that night.

My trip down memory lane is a warning to myself. Bonnie affects me like Petra did. Looks-wise, they are day and night. But their personalities are far too similar for comfort. I’ll never let myself be made a fool again, which is why I need to keep Bonnie away from me. And therein lies the problem. She will be here twenty-four seven. The villa is big, but it’s still a small world, as they say.

I can’t even travel for work, considering Lorenzo has put me in charge of her safety. Hopefully, having her dads, best friend, and apparently other best friend, Pete, here will distract her enough we can avoid each other.

That’s a tomorrow problem, though. Right now, I just want to bask in the fact I am home alone, with a gorgeous, full-bodied red, under the spectacular Sicilian sky. No matter my worries, a few hours sitting here cures all ailments.

Of course, the universe has other plans. Apparently, I wronged the gods somewhere along the line.

“Excuse me, Allegra,” Enzo, head of security at the villa, says, “we have a problem.”

Sighing, I turn and slip back into boss mode. “What’s wrong?”

“Another shipment has been attacked.”

“Did you catch them?”

He nods. “I thought you’d like a chat with them.”

My eyebrow raises. I don’t usually get my hands dirty nowadays. The family deals with troublemakers, so for Enzo to include me, means whoever he caught is no lackey.

“Lead the way.”

Enzo takes me to the cellar. It’s cliché, but they are useful for this type of activity for a reason. No windows, half-metre thick walls, and no interruptions.

As I step onto the cellar floor, I almost falter in my step. “Gisto. This is a surprise.”

Why is Gisto directly involved in hijacking our shipments? He’s far too important to be doing such a job, especially when the risk of being caught is so high. It doesn’t make sense.

“Allegra.” His eye is bruised, but it’s a few days old. Presumably, it’s the work of his father, like Luke mentioned. Apart from that, he is unharmed. The family knows better than to beat the son of Giani Arello.

I drag over a chair and place it opposite Gisto. He isn’t tied up, but two of my biggest men stand at either side of his shoulders.

“Fancied yourself a little fun this evening, it seems.”

He shrugs. Sitting back, I cross one leg over the other and regard him silently. There is a game at play, and I need to figure out what the rules are. Gisto wouldn’t have attacked a shipment without his father’s say-so. Giani wanted him to be caught, but why? And then it dawns on me. I can’t help but chuckle, which earns a confused look from Gisto.

“You’re free to go home, Gisto. Would you like a ride?”

He looks utterly confused. Giani’s plan was rudimentary at best, but could have been effective if it were anyone but me he was dealing with. As I mentioned before, Giani still plays by the old rules. He still uses the old-school Mafiosi handbook. Unfortunately for him, I do not.

Giani expected me to teach Gisto a lesson. He probably thought I’d be so consumed with rage because Gisto had so brazenly tried to steal from me, my ego would have taken over and I would hurt Gisto. If I did fall into the trap, Giani would have declared a vengeance war. One family openly hurting another paves the way for a legitimate fight for honour and all that macho bullshit. Ridiculous, if you ask me. It’s not the 1920s, for heaven’s sake.

Frankly, I’m more offended Giani thought I’d fall for such a poorly thought-out plan. He must be getting desperate. The Arello family has been hitting our imports for a while now, without any backlash from us. Giani is clearly getting tired and wants to push me.

“Enzo, please make sure Gisto gets home safely. Oh, and give him a bottle of our house wine. For the wife,” I say with a smile. Poor Gisto; his father is not going to be pleased and I’m sure he’ll get the brunt of his outburst.

With that taken care of, I bid Enzo and the rest of the family good night. It’s been a long day, and by the looks of things, the coming days are going to be hell. Sending a quick update to Lorenzo, I shut myself in my ensuite, run the bath, and sink into the bubbles.

As easy as it was to figure out Giani’s plan, I have to be mindful. A desperate man does desperate things. If he finds out Bonnie is here, I have no doubt he will try something stupid. It’s unlikely he will be obvious about it. I can’t envisage him storming the villa and mowing us down, not with other families close by. We might be rivals, but overall, we look out for each other to preserve our way of life. If Giani breaks the rules, the Ferrante family will be the least of his worries.

So, I need to be cautious. Bonnie must stay within the perimeter of the villa and inner gardens. The risk of her having an “accident” whilst in the vineyard is too great, especially as the vineyard is the biggest on the island.

Great, I can’t wait to have that discussion with her. No, not a discussion. What am I thinking? She’s not my equal here. I’m in charge of her safety and she’ll do as she’s told.

You’re fooling yourself, Allegra.

Sinking below the water, I let out a scream that burns my lungs. I suddenly feel bone-tired—not from the travel, but from the weight of shit I have to deal with. I’ve focused solely on making Lorenzo and the Ferrante family proud. But sometimes I forget the cost of the job.

The brief respite I had earlier is well and truly gone now. No amount of stargazing will help. I just need to sleep. As I towel off and slip under silk sheets, my phone lights up. I want to hurl the thing across the room. Gritting my teeth, I open the message to see what barrage of shit I have to deal with now. The message is from Rosa.

Rosa 11:27 p.m.

You’re in trouble this time, Allegra. She’s going to eat you alive!

I regret opening my mouth. Last night, I may have vented to Rosa about our new houseguest.

Allegra 11:29 p.m.

Stay in your lane, Rosa.

Rosa 11:30 p.m.

You don’t scare me, Al. I can’t wait to see this blow up in your face!

Of course, Rosa was there through the Petra debacle, so she’d immediately latched on to my irritation with Bonnie as being something more than one person detesting the other. She was insufferable last night. I couldn’t exactly deny it, though. My feelings for Bonnie are confusing, but only because she reminds me of Petra—not because I have any genuine emotions about her.

Rosa found the entire thing hilarious. She gets off on watching me squirm. This time, though, she will be disappointed. Bonnie hates me as much as I dislike her. We just have to get through this threat unscathed and everything will go back to normal.

Normal. What does that even mean? I’m more worried I don’t know the answer to that, than anything else. I thought claiming the title of Donna Malgeri was everything I wanted, but once in a while, a sliver of doubt creeps in. Having to be icy all the time is draining. I feel most of my life is spent playing politics with other families, and I’m starting to question why I bother. Unbeknownst to the other families and somewhat to Lorenzo, I have taken the Ferrante family business on a more aboveboard route.

We make more money with legitimate businesses than we do our underground ones. I’ve not suddenly grown a conscience; it just makes sense. The law is cracking down harder and harder on our enterprises, and I, for one, will never see the inside of a prison. The days of disappearing people to deal with any unwanted attention are gone. As much as I enjoyed taking my frustration out on other bad guys, it is not feasible anymore. We have to be smarter, and the way to do that is to go legit.

Still, we do have a few practices that are frowned upon, but those just hurt the rich. No harm, no foul in my book. Our world sees me as a bloodthirsty animal; an image I have encouraged. Being a woman in this line of work is no joke. Better that they fear me. But it’s been a while since I’ve used violence to my advantage. The incident with Kelley, notwithstanding. Maybe I am finally growing a conscience if I’d rather hit the obnoxiously rich where it hurts than physically hurt innocent civilians. Huh, that’s something to ruminate on.

Putting the phone on silent, I lay back and stare at the ceiling. Sometimes I feel like I have two personalities: One that still needs to prove my worth to Lorenzo and the family, and the other that is tired and wants to stop.

I am Allegra Malgeri, and I am…tired.