I ate, of course! Not only because Papa and Mamma were sharing their worry with another one they already had for Granpa Lucas, but because I was starving.

Seems I've forgotten how consuming writing is for me and rewriting this story is not a very easy thing for me.

Weird enough, while writing, I was jealous at times of my female character for having the joy to be with the Don she loves, enjoying life together, and having the chance to know each other while I must live my life with my Don in my thoughts only.

The scariest thing that freezes the blood in my veins is that one day I will not remember his beautiful black eyes staring at me as if the light of his day comes from my eyes. I'm afraid I won't know the taste of his lips anymore and the hold of his arms.

What I still have engraved in my brain is the scent of his cologne. On the day of the hit, he smelt of white peony tinted with musk and bitter tobacco, stinging my nostrils on that awful day when he was wrapped around me like a bulletproof shield and I was sucking in deeply the smell of the skin on his chest.

My madness hit the skies after that day, to some levels that made everybody worry, a worry I didn't care for. Julian had to find that cologne and when he did, I never spent another day without spraying it on the pillow next to mine or carrying it with me everywhere I go.

In truth, I have it with me right now and that's how it will be forever.

"Miss, we need to get ready for landing. We'll be on the runway in about thirty minutes," the stewardess says and it's only now that I realize that one chapter is ready and the second one is not too far from the finish line either.

"Okay, thank you," I reply and put on the seatbelt shoving my nose back to the phone, adamant to be ready with the second chapter as well before we land.

I kept writing, sunk into the happy times my characters lived, picturing their moments of joy with beautiful words and a racing heart, imagining that Raffa would have loved me just the same.

"Mia..." I hear my name called but I frown and refuse to answer because right now my Don is in a place out of this world making love to his woman.

My fingers rush into typing, stubbornly fighting to finish the last paragraph when Julian calls my name again, louder.

"Mia!"

"What?!" I shout bothered, snapping my head up and staring at him with anger.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks with worry in his voice.

"What... nothing, nothing is wrong with me," I mumble and shift my eyes to the screen again, with my finger frozen on the upload button.

I poured my entire broken heart into the lines together with the love I have for Raffa and I'm thinking if it's wise to share them with my readers.

"You're impossible sometimes," Julian says almost giving up on me and feeling pressured, I rush to decide that these chapters will be uploaded.

These chapters are the cries of my heart and the suffering of losing Raffa. And they will be heard.

So I publish both chapters and switch off the screen while I unbuckle my seatbelt and stand up, circling my arms around Julian and giving him a warm hug.

"I'm sorry. I'm all yours now," I tell him.

He holds me in that hug for a little longer and I know the guilt of having shot Raffa is still torturing him, a bit because of shooting a man in his back but mostly because of the suffering it has brought to me.

"You haven't been ours for a very long time, Mia," Julian says pulling me out of his hug and pinning me inches away from his nose.

The way he stared at me, scolding me and also worrying about me caught me by surprise and I froze, not knowing what to say.

I didn't talk to him long after the hit. When I was told that he had been the one that cowardly shot Raffa in the back I hated him with my entire being, but one day he had enough of me ignoring him and forced me to listen for what he had to say, sending Papa to beg.

And Papa begged. Oh God, how I hated it and hated Julian even more. He knew I could never resist Papa, the first hero I opened my eyes to, and so, I carved. I couldn't see Papa begging so, I made it shorter.

That day Julian cried like a baby. He kneeled and asked for forgiveness and I, having promised Papa and deep down still loving my little brother, gave him my forgiveness, but my heart never actually did.

"I'm okay, Julian. Don't worry," I reply and shyly pull out of his arms, forcing a smile and collecting my things.

We get out of the airplane, walk in front of Julian, and get into the car which is waiting for us on the runway, with the driver keeping the back door open, ready to take us to the next flight.

I realized it was pretty late when I saw the pitching black night covering the airport in an almost deafening silence.

I'm still not very uncomfortable being around Julian for too long and grateful for the silence he offers, so I let myself fall asleep for the rest of the trip.

We won't fly more than a couple of hours and then our hearts will sink in sorrow and our minds will struggle for peace, the peace of accepting that Grandma Becca is not with us anymore.

Even before taking off I lean my head against the seat's backrest and close my eyes hiding behind the excuse of having already flown for ten hours and keeping Julian at a fair distance but seconds later I can feel him sitting next to me, stretching one arm around my shoulders and pulling me slowly to his chest where he makes sure I lay comfortably.

A deep sigh escapes my lips even though I struggle to make it as silent as possible and tears load my eyelashes while Julian, as caring and sensitive as usual, tightens the hold around my shoulders and plants a kiss on the crown of my head.

"I swear, if I could turn back time, I would," he whispers while I swallow the knots formed q q in my throat as if they are stones.

"I'm going to miss Nonna so much," I tell him trying to divert to a different subject because I swear to God if he says one more word about his guilt I'll bite his head off.

I can't take it anymore.

He hums, knowing exactly what I've done and plants one more kiss, softly, gently, accepting my will.

Thankfully I slept all the trip to the island. As much as I didn't like to admit it, it felt safe and comfortable in my brother's arms.

I know the turmoil he is going through and I think it's time to let go.

Two hours later, Julian woke me up so I would sit up straight and get ready for landing.

My heart shrinks with the anticipation of arriving home and witnessing a deeply sad Mamma Eve and a broken Grandpa Lucas.

Believe it or not, Grandpa Lucas has always been the most cheerful figure I've known. I used to hear such scary stories about him while being a young man but he has always been the aspiration of Julian. He always thought that Papa was too soft to be a Don and still, I think he never really knew Papa.

When getting down from the flight, I see Papa and the foot of the stairs, leaning his slide and yet vigorous frame against the black SUV waiting for us, quietly sucking a cigar and completely careless for looking ravished, broken, defeated.

It had always been so obvious to all of us that Grandma Becca was more than just a mother-in-law for Papa. If his love for Mamma Eve was infinite, the respect he always carried for Grandma Becca always put us in the shadow.

"Papa..." I whimper throwing myself to his chest while he throws the cigar away and stretches his arms to welcome me.

"I'm sorry, Papa," I say, sobbing and hiding in his hug.

"We are all sorry, sweetheart," he replies in a deep tone. "Julian..." he greets my brother and I feel one of his arms leaving my back most probably shaking hands with his son.

"Dad..." Julian replies.

"How's Mamma?" I ask worried when we finally end our greetings and hugs, wrapped in the fear that for Mamma the sorrow must be a thousand times deeper.

"Broken, but she's okay. Your Mamma is a strong woman, princess, don't worry," Papa replies and gets into the driver's seat after both Julian and I are in the car already.

I wonder why Papa drives his car by himself. He has always had a driver doing that for him and most of the time other two cars with his guards following us.

"Where are the guys, Papa?"

"At the house, sweetheart. We don't need them here," he absently replies.

We drive for about thirty minutes before Papa slides the car through the villa's gates.

I breathe deeply, getting ready to meet Grandpa who stands at the front door, waiting for us.

His grey hair is still elegantly combed to the back of his head in silver curls but his always neatly shaved beard sparkles in the moonlight.

He stands up straight, with his hands shoved in the pockets of his pants. His white shirt always straight as paper but now somehow wrinkled, has the first buttons open and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

One thing never grew old with Grandpa Lucas and that was his badass neck tattoo, emerging somewhere from inside his shirt, on his chest, circling his neck from the left side, around the back, and ending to the right side, the sign of wild youth.

The look in his eyes is tense and hard, following us with dark blue eyes while we get out of the car, and like always, Julian and Papa let me reach Grandpa Lucas first.

"Ciao, Nonno," I greet him when he welcomes me in his arms forcing a smile. (Hello, Grandpa).

I can hardly sense his cologne covered by the smell of cigars and expensive whiskey.

"Ciao, bella. Mi sei mancato così tanto," he replies tightening the hold around my back and talking in his perfect Italian, although he's pure American. (Hi, beautiful. I missed you so much).

Julian and Papa greet him one by one and we walk into the house where the air feels heavy to me.

"Where's Mamma?" I ask hoping to see her welcoming us and not crashed somewhere, mending her sorrow.

"Hm, well... doctor Paul was here earlier and he gave her some pills. She went to bed a while ago," Grandpa says.

"I'm going up," I say and rush my steps to the stairs when Grandpa grabs my arm, stopping me.

"I just checked on her, sweetie. She's fine. She's sleeping," he insists and I forcibly give in, staring into Grandpa's sad eyes and thinking... it's not like her own father would disregard her needs I'm the only one in the family who loves her, dah...

"Va bene, Nonno. I'll see her in the morning, then," I answer with a smile and turn around giving him a hug which he welcomes with a hum.

"How are you, sweetie? You haven't been here for... maybe a year," Grandpa asks when our hug is complete and now he is looking at me with an admiration that has always made me feel the most important grandchild he has.

I still keep my arms circled around his waist while he tucks a few curls of hair to my back and stares at my face as if he's trying to find there his answer.

"I'm good, Grandpa... I'm good..." I try to convince him.

"You know you don't have to marry if you don't want to. And I'm not saying because of what had happened to your Nonna, but because I strongly believe this marriage happens for the wrong reasons," he suddenly says and I remember the time when Papa was insisting on this marriage, much like everybody else, while Grandpa Lucas strongly expressed against it.

"Lo so, Nonno, ma Michelle è un brav'uomo, e mi vuole bene, si prende cura di me...," (I know, Grandpa, but Michelle is a good man, and he loves me, he cares for me...)

"E tu? So che ti ama, sarebbe stupido non farlo, ma tu?" (And you? I know he loves you, he would be stupid not to, but what about you?)

I freeze for a moment, looking at Grandpa who seems to understand me more than anybody in my life.

"Io... mi piace lui. È buono con me." (I... like him. He's good to me).
​
"I know he is, but do you love him, pumpkin?"

"Nonno..." I mumble a plea to let me be and not try to pry into my soul again.

"When your Nonna left me, a long time ago, she met a man, a good man who saved both of our lives and helped her a lot, but she... loved me and risked everything for us..."

"I know, Grandpa, but you were alive..." I reply irritated and trying to pull myself from his arms but Grandpa tightens his hold and forces me to stay and listen.

"Nobody said Raffaello was dead, for us much I know. Give him time, sweetheart. If he's alive, he'll come for you."

I freeze staring at Grandpa with eyes stinging with tears and my ears fill with the voice of Raffa telling me that day that he'll find me, and he'll come to me.

"Maybe he doesn't what to come. Maybe this marriage will set him free and we will be able to go on with our lives," I whisper because I know that once my voice goes higher, a spring of sobs will choke me.

"Or maybe he can't come right now..." he suggests and before I have the chance to express my disbelief, we both hear a knock at the front door and we turn our heads, waiting for Marie to open it and see who's our late at night visitor.

"Hello... hm, I'm looking for Emillia Benito," I hear Michelle's kind voice speaking.

I immediately become unsettled and Grandpa gouges his eyes at me, frowning and worrying.

"Nonno, non voglio vederlo, non stasera," I beg him in a whisper. (Grandpa, I don't want to see him, not tonight).

"Go," he whispers back, motioning his head toward the stairs and I run, leaving him behind to handle our guest.

I immediately turn around and quietly run on the stairs, stopping at the top where I can't be seen and waiting.

"Good evening, I'm Lucas Tate, Emillia's grandfather," Grandpa speaks in a confident voice, trying to discourage Michelle somehow.

Oh, he's not joking when he implies not liking Michelle.

"Mr. Tate, an honor," Michelle greets I can almost see him manly stretching his hand and shaking it with Grandpa's.

"Likewise. Come in," Grandpa invites him and I scoff, afraid that he won't cover for me.

"Please allow me to express my condolences. I heard about your late wife. I'm truly sorry," Michelle says cordially.

"Why would you? You didn't know my wife."

"Well... I... I came to see Emillia. May I..."

"No, you may not, young man," Grandpa replies. "She's resting now after quite a long trip. And we will have a very close funeral, so I'm afraid you'll have to make your back home. She'll contact you..."

"I don't know if you are aware of it, but your granddaughter and I are going to marry..."

"Which I hope you'll agree to postpone considering the circumstance," Grandpa cuts him off and I smile, totally loving him a thousand times more.

"Probably this needs to be discussed with..." Michelle mumbles, evidently taken by surprise.

"Mr. Parma, I would very much appreciate it if you agree to meet later on when we'll be done with your family's unfortunate event, let's say," Grandpa suggests in a stern voice and I decide to let him take it from there.

It's an arranged marriage, so, let Grandpa Lucas arrange it.

I let the men deal with whatever they will and I turn around, eager to finally reach my bed and stretch my bones but on the way I stop in front of Mamma's room, and decided to check on her.

I grab the doorknob carefully and soundlessly twist it, pushing the door and peering inside. I see Mamma on the bed with her back facing the door, most surely sleeping and I decide not to bother her.

I let Mamma be and walk into my room, closing the door behind me and crashing on the bed on my back.

It's been a long day... and night, as I can see the morning light peering through the window curtains but the silence of the room is suddenly pricked by a notification on my phone.

It must be Michelle, unhappy with the welcome my Grandpa has offered but when I slide the screen I see a notification from the app I'm writing on and two votes for my last chapters, one for each.

This wouldn't surprise me usually but right now, seeing the author of those votes, the soul suddenly leaves my body, freezing the air on my parted lips, struggling to keep my brain awake before I faint.

It's my secret reader, the very one that so madly infatuated with my writing has decided to make me his own.

It's the Don of my heart.

~~~~~
Dear Reader, thank you for being here. 🤗