Chapter 5
Aliyana
The boot slams with a big thud as my sister's mood enhances her ability to close things quietly.
I sit in the front of the Black vanquish OWNED by my brother.
Pushing the button to move the leather heated seat a bit forward, I slip my phone in my bag, ignoring Guilia and Filippo discussing her sudden blue mood. The reason is me. I knew that this morning when she arrived and heard from Papa that I would be joining the two of them. I stood there shocked that it was the first time she heard about it.
Guilia and Leonardo's relationship was no longer just an arranged marriage. And as much as she tried to convince me last month when we had our luncheon of her loathing for Leonardo, foolishness is not a trait I possess. Guilia had gotten close to her soon to be husband and the closer she got, the more she secretly wished I wasn't around to witness any of it.
And I know it has nothing to do with any negative underlying issues she has about my 4-year-old crush on her soon to be husband. She just feels awkward.
My sister convinced herself that any sign of happiness from her part meant a heart-breaking sadness on mine.
Admittedly, it's selfish of me not to have convinced her otherwise by now. To tell her the truth would mean I confess it to myself and risk other people finding out about my sins with Marco Catelli, namely, my father.
Sometimes in the prism of my own self I wonder if my silence really stemmed from self-preservation and the wrath of my father or was it that I secretly enjoyed her pity, and spirited emotions that held me in its core.
I touch the steering wheel as a colorful bird sweeps through the air. My phone rings and I already know who it is by the ring tone.
"I'm not picking up." I say to the empty car, as my heartbeat gets heavier.
A shadow appears by the cars window and I close my eyes as the fucking ring knocks on the window.
"What!!!" I don't face the perpetrator.
He ignores me and knocks again.
I take a deep breath and open the door with every intention of hurting him with the door, but he must sense my venomous thought and takes a step back.
Both feet get out of the car as I stand by the open door and glare at the arrogant blue eyed, blonde haired Matteo Fucking Di Salvo standing less than 4 ft. away from me.
He is wearing a grey coat on top of his Winter Suit and his face is blotched with redness and remnants of his sickness.
According to Elise, Matteo got sick a week back, just after his return from Chicago. He also requested 0 days off since.
But seeing him today, he is insanely warm. A hazard which is not going to assist with his fever-stricken body. It is cold today, but nonetheless beautiful, windless, yet tickled with a whisper of the upcoming snow that would soon grace our yards.
This is the eye before the storm. A fitting description for this entire weekend. We were going to be experiencing a cold front soon and some snow.
While normally I'll bite my tongue around Matteo, I can't help the words leaving my mouth.
"If you are so sick why agree to come with?" My curiosity is unhidden standing in this weather looking at the boy who is slowly skirting off enemy lines. The question is why?
"Contrary to what is playing in that little head of yours, I was not the brains behind this." His voice is like sandpaper to my skin, and if he was anybody else, I would have felt sorry for him. But he isn't anybody. He is my enemy that has moved himself way too close for comfort into my entire world.
"Contrary to what you BELIEVE, is playing through MY head, I don't want to be subjected to a sneezing soldier the entire weekend." He rolls his eyes, huffing in annoyance.
"Are you sure that is the only reason? Or are you just scared I will let your siblings in on your little secret? Tell me Miss Capello, does your sister not smell the deceit and lies you try so hard to cover up?"
I go to take a step forward but I see my brother just in time as he marches toward us with a quiet Guilia.
"I'm not the only one with an agenda." I hiss at Matteo, as he has the audacity to laugh.
"But mine doesn't come with a bullet to the head." Matteo leaves me with those parting words and I want to scream, shout and swear as loud as my voice could possibly manage, but with a thumping heartbeat, flushed skin, and an itching palm to slap him I bite my tongue and hop into the car just as Filippo and Guilia pass me.
"You good to drive the entire way? I have some paper work I need to get done." Filippo is not in a good mood. I wonder what was said in my absence, but the tension in the car is certainly at danger point when Guilia jumps into the back without slamming the door shut and Filippo opens his laptop without waiting for me to reply.
I take a deep breath. Okay then.
I push my finger in the start button as the car comes to life and vibrations of its power bringing me a small reprieve of the intense day.
Long drive, here we come.
We arrive a little after 12pm. The three Bentleys at the back slow down on to the side of the forestation as we take the right, going off the tree view roads and into what at first resembles the beginning of a forest, but changes when we take a left over a small pothole and come face to face with the gates of hell. They have actual demons with horns and tails welded into the wrought iron.
"Must I hop out and press the buzzer?" I ask my brother who hasn't said more than 5 sentences since we began our journey. And those were to give me directions.
"I got it, you stay warm, you've been driving." Filippo doesn't wait for me to respond as he hops out of the warm car and into the freezing air. The further we drove, the colder the air became.
I turn to see Guilia's sleeping form, covered in a warm throw over I carried in case.
The manor is nothing of what I expected Marco's place to be. Which isn't much to think about since I have never seen where the guy stayed.
From the safety of the car I examine the expanse, and the distant walls we would soon be residing in. It resembles a 3-hundred-year-old castle. Filled with death, lies and history far beyond my almost 20 years.
Maybe it is some old place that once belonged to a wealthy American family that had a taste for Victorian living. Or perhaps a British Aristocrat bought a piece of American soil and decided to put his own roots into the land and built this for his beloved.
Filippo rubs his gloved hands together as he walks back to the car and hops in.
"It's like we stepped foot into another dimension it is so cold." Two men in black pants and jackets walk over toward us, and begin unlocking the gates. I am surprised the gates don't open automatically like his father's place.
"It seems the owner over the house wishes to maintain the house in its full ancient theme. Which apparently includes lack of better security." I say earning me Filippo's first laugh since he got into the car.
"Everything here is donkey years old. Except there is excellent cell service. This place belonged to the DeMarco's for nearly 4 Centuries. Marco inherited it when his mother passed."
"His mother is a DeMarco?" This is news to me, I always thought they were Nicole's children. If Marco is a DeMarco, that means Gabriel is related to Marco.
Marco, Marco, Marco. The word runs through my heard. His name is a reminder of who he is. Question is, was the reminder a curse or a blessing? I'm going to go with the latter. Maybe joining this weekend away is not such a bad idea after all. There is a lot of things one can learn when the answers are close by.
"Not all the Catelli siblings belong to Nicole. Let's keep this one between us." I nod just as the gates part ways for us and Guilia rustles at the back, sensing our arrival.
"It feels like I've stepped into another time." Guilia utters as she yawns and most probably stretches her long lithe body. The space at the back is a bit cramped with my paint supplies I carried just in case the mood struck me.
"Did you enjoy the nap?" I ask as I drive into the yard surrounded by an open manicured garden.
I can't see the house nicely from this far. But I do take note of the overly on top art piece that is the entry of the greenery. It is crafted in ivory, two lions intertwined in a battle of wills.
I try to zoom in on the statue but can't really get a good inspection on the piece which is the one grandeur of the garden.
"Yes, as a matter of fact I did. And I also want to say sorry for behaving like a brat."
"I am cool with it." I say as Filippo ignores her apology. I wonder what she said to piss him off this bad?
My nerves are not helping my inquisitive self either. They are currently on strike for working too hard these last few hours. They are demanding release. The crisp clean air penetrates my senses as I pay all my attention to the healthy ever green grass and hedgehog trees.
Further away resembles the plot of a dead ground for the ghost of Carnival street, haunted in grey fog, still in the promise of the winter chill.
I welcome the crisp of the air, a thrilling flare as each inhale is felt deep within me.
There were a few rumors regarding this Manor. Most of it farfetched besides the one tale I think has some truth to it. Marco Catelli had a graveyard in his backyard. Of that I am almost 99% certain.
"We're here!" I say as the car stops under the big dome like parking space. To my right is the entrance, which is open to two doors that I'm sure is akin to the gateway of Buckingham palace.
"Yup, we have arrived. This place is a tadbit creepy," Guilia makes a shivering sound. I turn off the car's engine and see perpendicular to me is a familiar face. Xander Moretti
He must have a strong sense because he looks at me right through the partially tinted window and his eyes say nothing. The last time I saw him was the night Ren and Matteo killed a Russo.
"I think it's perfect," I whisper the words, not sure if they can hear me but not caring either.
Matteo shows himself as he opens my door and the smell of his vape hits my nose. The strong vanilla scent catches in my throat as he blows the smoke.
"'Why do you smoke that, it's disgusting."
"It's a quality adjusted lifestyle, don't knock it until you've tried it." Matteo says as he slips the device into his coat pocket. My eyes betray me as they go back to Xander who is dressed in a denim pants and ski jacket. He has no gloves on his hands but if he is cold, he doesn't show it.
"You crushing on Xander? Good luck, the guy is Marco's first command," Matteo says as my brother and sister hop out of the car.
"Maybe you should wipe your face Matteo, it seems to be full of jealousy." Guilia adds walking past us, she touches Matteo on the shoulder and winks at me.
"And I wondered if you were into hot sexy men, good taste," I tease with a wink of my own as he has the nerve to roll his eyes and smirk.
I don't stand a moment longer in the presence of Matteo.
My sister beats my brother and myself to the door where the owner stands, in his dark slacks and grey Jersey. His smile is as false as his personality. My stomach knots as my heart picks up speed with every inch closer I get to him.
Why does Marco have to own the place and not Deno? Because karma likes to fuck me over.
He doesn't look at me and I am thankful for that small reprieve to reprimand my traitorous body into not humiliating me as it did the last time I had to look into the man's face. My body must remain faithful to my sanity and not let me down like that day where he broke me down and left me without a backward glance.
The thoughts come as a needed shield and I am grateful for them, and also for the hardness it has caused around my heart since this man I now stop in front of, showed me the meaning of the word, heartbreak.
His face breaks out into a grin, as his eyes dip to my bared legs, encased in a sued 4-inch-high, black ankle boot, that kept my feet warm but gave me a bit of added height. His eyes hold my own in a second, and my heart beats in fear, making me feel like I am the one doing wrong when he is the one standing too close, staring too long.
His rigid body, betrays his unaffected stance as he drops his mindless attention to the winter pencil dress, that hugs my body, hinting at my curves.
And like our first meeting, altercation, his outstretched hand is waiting, extended, facing me. Idling.
"Hello Mr. Catelli." I wrap my hand around his for less than a second, because unlike the last time he touched me, I am the only one being burned. So why should I suffer?
My inner strength does not defy my internal order when I look behind him, dismissing him as if all he deserves is a few seconds of my time. And I should take pride in how excellent of an actor I am. Of how I, a woman am able to convince Marco Catelli of all men that I am unaffected by his presence.
I walk away toward the inner part of the house and a familiar voice strikes me to a standstill as my ears perk when I hear a small voice following.
"Gabriel," I yell not caring whose house I'm in.
"Aly Cat, where arth thou." I walk toward the sound coming from my right. The angelic art on the ceilings talk of medieval gods and demons entangled in a battle of wills. Much like the lion statue outside. Golden beams surround the art, like a caged world all poured into one place. It is breathtakingly exquisite and reminds me of Leonardo Da Vinci's painting, The Battle of Anghiari.
I walk through a less grandeur scene as I step into the wide spread kitchen. Gabriel's smile warms me up as I am encompassed in his tall familiar arms.
"You look like way too grown up, Aly Cat, is it your sister's wedding dinner or yours?"
I laugh and open my mouth to say something when a tall woman in a white pencil skirt and red blouse walks toward us.
"Hi, you must be Aliyana," She is staring at me and although it is our first time officially meeting it isn't her first time laying those eyes on me.
"In the flesh."