FIFTY-THREE |

Arturo

back to the house in a state of elation, she was quite literally drunk with happiness. And though I'd never admit it aloud, I knew how she felt. The thought of losing her for good had plagued me, it was an idea I couldn't entertain.

And now she was mine. Forever.

Travelling to England with her was a small price to pay. I knew Marco could look after things in New York, and as long as we left swiftly my father's proposition could wait. Hell, everything could wait.

"What time is our flight?" Florence asked. Her left hand was holding mine and her right was leaning on the door frame. Her window was open and she was soaking up the sun, eyes closed, with a smile on her face.

"Eleven p.m.," I replied. "I thought you could sleep on the plane. But you know, we could have just taken the private jet."

I could practically hear her rolling her eyes and I smiled to myself. "I want to be normal for a little while Arturo."

"Perhaps you should have picked a better fiancée, then," I teased her.

"I just want a few months, you know? Before I get married to the don of the Lucchese Mafia and normal is a thing of the past."

I nodded. "I understand."

We were approaching the house so Florence rolled her window back up. I stopped right by the front door. "Go and pour us some champagne while I put the car away," I instructed, giving her a quick kiss. She leaned in for more but I held her at bay, the sooner the car was gone the sooner I could devour her. "No fruit juice this time. Go, I'll meet you inside."

She nodded and climbed out of the car, running up the front steps. Once she had gone through the front door and I couldn't see her anymore, I drove to the large garage and parked the car back in its usual spot.

The garage was a couple of minutes away from the house, and it harboured over fifteen different cars. It had been one of my favourite places to spend time as a child, somewhere quiet where I could get away from life as the child of a gang leader. The scent of petrol brought back so many memories, it was dizzying.

I was grateful when I stepped out into the light of day, following the road back to the house. Florence and I had fought so many battles to get to where we were today.

Inside the house, all was quiet. The kitchen was empty, although two champagne flutes stood on the island, waiting to be filled. I had thought there would be at least two bottles of champagne in the fridge, but maybe I had been wrong and Florence had gone looking for them somewhere else.

I walked through the house, listening for sounds. Down the hallway, through the door to my father's office, I heard the sound of something being knocked over and a quiet curse. I rolled my eyes, trust Florence to accidentally stumble upon the worst room in the house. I started walking towards the office but then my heart stopped in my chest when I heard a scream.

"Arturo!!" It was so loud it was almost ear-splitting, I could hear the panic and fear in her voice. I ran down the hall just in time to catch her as she barrelled out of the room, her face white as a ghost's.

"What is wrong?" I demanded, pulling her to my chest where she started sobbing.

"It-it's...look." She could barely speak so I did as she said, pushing open the door to the office. I could hear my blood pounding in my ears.

My father was sat on his office chair.

There were bullet holes through his head and his heart.

In the breast pocket of his suit, a slip of paper read buonanima, written in his blood.

Giovanni Lucchese was dead.