PENTHOUSE 521

thirteen | love dream

Niccolò's gaze was unwavering as he stared at the book's pages. The book lay opened between his large hands. He was currently seated in the penthouse's library in a cherry leather armchair.

His dark eyes wandered across the pages, immersed in the story at hand, his thumb and forefinger perched at the corner, ready to turn to the next page. He almost looked. . . scholarly.

My heart clenched at the sight of him there.

Such a simple thing, but it was otherworldly for a man who was the Don of the most powerful Mafia in the world.

I blinked, snapping myself out of my trance. I looked at the door to the library before taking a steadying breath.

Why did I feel so hot all of a sudden?

"Niccolò?"

"You may come in," he said, closing the book before placing it on the mahogany coffee table in front of him.

Following his words, I stepped inside the magnificent room and took a spot in front of him. "I'm done with my cleaning tasks for the day."

I've been in here before. In fact, it was the room that we played chess in a couple of weeks ago.

The library was huge and had a modern interior, with white walls and black shelves filled with an array of books. Yet, it was usually cozy, making it the perfect spot to escape away to read.

I've thought about curling up in here to read a book or two, letting daylight dwindle away through the windows right bedside me while reading.

But, right now, the grandiose room felt suffocating. Smothering.

It's thick with incomprehensible tension.

Why?

Well, it had been two weeks since I had last seen Niccolò; the Saturday morning we had spent in his club's suite.

That night, we had spent having dinner conversing about simple things. One topic of conversation was his family.

That night I had discovered that Raphael, Alessandro, and Gabriella were his cousins.

The two boys were twins, which made sense, considering how similar they looked physically. Although, personality-wise, they were practically polar opposites.

Six years after the twins were born, Gabriella was.

Niccolò said his father, Giuseppe, had a younger brother, Frediano. He was the father of the three of them.

Andrea carried out most activities as underboss; however, his uncle served as his consigliere. In the Mafia hierarchy, that made Frediano Niccolò's advisor. One who maintained the order of the Sorrentinos' legacy. He also still executed power over the men stationed in Sicily when Niccolò was away.

Over dinner, he also promised he wanted to play me a song on the piano the next time he saw me.

I begged him to do the song the same night, but he chuckled, assuring me that it'd happen "in time."

Okay, but I didn't think that would be the last time I saw him.

It was usual to go one day without Niccolò. He was a busy man, after all. He was a successful businessman to most eyes, while in private, he was the emperor of the world of crime.

But my Saturday shift had rolled around, and Niccolò still wasn't back. And Andrea hadn't been around either. His honeyed eyes would've been more than a welcoming sight.

However, after I finished cleaning the following Saturday, Gabriella approached me.

His youngest cousin had apologized for the delayed notice, but Niccolò and Andrea were attending meetings. She said that they should be back soon. Obviously, I had more than a few questions.