Capo Dei Capi (Secrets of the Famiglia Part 1)

Chapter 17 (Aliyana)

I have no idea why they don’t just talk once in a while.

My mood lightens at the thought of how stupid it is to work in a job where you can’t talk to the people

you are protecting unless they deemed it so.

It feels like they’re selling their souls.

An unexpected breeze brings a welcoming chill seeping through the silk wrapped around my body.

I knew I would end up here tonight, it’s one of two places in Seattle I feel alone and safe to just let go.

Be me.

Never has it crossed my mind, I’d seek this familiar place so early on in the evening. Today is a big day

for my sister, I should be down there with them.

I feel like a fraud.

They think I am a charlatan, and they are right to believe I am a fake. I will never be like them, the Property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Italians. I will never have their pure-blood.

I know my thoughts are unwarranted.

My father has always looked at me with pride. He once confessed in a drunken state that I was ‘The

reminder’ that my mother existed.

What if I resembled him, reminded him of himself? Would he look at me the same way, like I was more

than just something?

It was the question I asked him that night as he stared at me but didn’t open his mouth to speak.

His silence told me more than his words could.

I was nine.

I open the glass door, removing my heels. It's unfortunate to say that it isn’t the first time my mind goes

to that one thought.

My father’s love for me, so great, so powerful that I would never doubt it.

But even his love runs on a condition.

My friend Kylie told me once, she loved her family unconditionally, whether they felt the same or not.

Would I ever experience something as meaningful as just hearing those words spoken about me?

Or am I not born so lucky, as fortunate as I like to believe.

Is my curse loneliness?

Will I ever belong?

My dress drags on the floor as I wander to the far side of the green room. A room that is made of glass

and filled with white, yellow, and peach roses.

A beauty to the sightless eyes, but to tainted ones like my own, that has measured beauty and lived

through pain can see what this place represents - A memorial room for all those innocent lives lost in

the games of power and war.

The beauty, uncanny, but trapped in a magical glass castle only to die in that same castle, a gruesome

death.

I was once an unseeing eye until I noticed a flaw in the picture, red roses.

Deno hates red roses. I asked him why, he said, “I don't want this place tainted by death.”

I argued, telling him it represented love, he laughed and shook his head,

“To love is to die painfully. There is no love without loss.”

That day I honestly stared into our future Capo’s eyes, and I swear I saw a longing for something more

than what made him so powerful. But when I blinked, he was as emotionless as the day I first met him.

The nippy air brings a cooling sensation, as I welcome the bliss of the cold deep in my lungs. I embrace

the chill sliding intimately within me.

Scented roses follow as I breathe deeper, welcoming the silence. The stars are my comfort as I gaze

into the darkness. I smile, knowing for this moment I am not Aliyana Capello. I am just a barefoot girl in

a greenhouse, wearing a beautiful dress staring at the stars. Free, yes, I am free.

A chilly breeze teases my skin.

I rub my cold fingers along my bared arms. Free

“Aliyana,” My eyes close, as that voice slices my thoughts of freedom, stealing this small moment.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I straighten my back. Saying nothing for a moment is all I am capable of

doing.

“Go away,” Two words finally spill out of my mouth, knowing it won’t work, yet still hoping it would.

“That was the plan until I spotted you.” I hear his footfall, just one as it comes closer.

“I will leave.” I don’t make a move, even as the words leave my lips.

“Isn’t leaving what you did, when you raced all the way up these stairs?”

I spin around at the deep masculine voice laced with sarcasm. This man

My heart picks up speed as a rush of energy hits my nerve endings when I see him so close. I heard

one footstep. How did he get so close?

“Why are you doing this?” My voice shakes, as the saliva in my mouth hits my throat harder than it

usually does when I get nervous.

I hate it.

I am not meek, but this man. The whole demeanor belonging to him scares me. My feet want to march

up to him and trample on his shoes, while my soul screams at him.

Except, like the good, well-trained, scared mouse I'm ought to be, I STAY.

“Talking? We practically know each other, Aliyana. We’ve met twice in one day. A lot of women would

be glad our paths have crossed, but you are not one of those women! It’s a pity, really.”

“The only pity is you coming here, spying on me like this.”

“You remind me of something right now.”

Darkness envelops him as he advances closer toward me.

I should've turned on the lights.

However, would I need them? His presence, danger, and power radiate off him in waves. It burns my

body from the inside out. He should not be here, alone, with me.

“Ah. That's it, you remind me of a little bird caught in a lion’s den,” His deep voice emanates the space

between us.

“Birds fly. They also go for the eyes when they attack,” I inform him. My apparent tone mocking. A man

as egotistical as Marco even can't deny the little threat.

He laughs, surprising me, “Tell me something, Aliyana, your mother is the....”

“The Russian, yes,” I complete his sentence.

Most people who know of my family are aware of my mother. Sadly, I, her child remembers only her

absence.

“It's amazing how time goes. It isn’t easy growing up without your mother.” Marco steps into my vision

as his words leave his mouth. Such a common thing to say, yet the current behind those two

statements coming from him, hold such truth.

“It’s manageable,” I say, knowing the lie behind the words I speak.

I offer him a small smile, examining him up close, I can't deny that right now, Marco Catelli is much

more imposing than when I saw him this afternoon.

The darkness wraps around him like a well-fitted blanket. He is drowning in it as his own wickedness

pushes through.

Two negatives equal a positive.

His cologne hits my nose as he takes one smaller step this time.

Closer to me. I didn’t hear him approaching earlier, but now this man is everywhere. Marco Catelli is

the center of all my senses.

The thought, his presence, creates a flutter within my belly, angering me, yet, awakening something

else.

I should not be this unraveled by a man. He should not be the one, he is not the brother I want.

“I am sorry.” That rough voice, wrong. All wrong

“It was a long time ago. I don't even remember her, so saying sorry for a mother I never knew, is just a

wasted apology,” I snap at him, but my voice betrays my false bravado for what it is, hurt, confusion

and maybe even a bit of defeat.

The emerald green dress wrapping my body is supposed to make me feel like I am covered, yet, I turn

to face the lights of Seattle feeling exposed. Naked

If I am that transparent, I rather he sees my back. Marco Catelli has already stolen enough from me. A

thief.

I am grateful the sky has the extra radiance to it tonight. The streets below dimming the night's sky's

true potential, as it buzzes with cars and people.

“Apologies are never wasted if you mean them,” He responds in that deep voice, fast becoming

ingrained in me, as I feel his orbs secure me to the ground with sheer will.