Union Of Death (Secrets of The Famiglia Part 2)

America, the place where dreams come true, and white picket fences are a must.

“Miss Moretti, your grandfather sends his apologies but he will not be coming to your birthday. He said to enjoy the evening.”

“Couldn’t he have just called and told me that himself,” I say to Ridwano, my 2nd bodyguard, or was he the first?

“Scusi Signorina.” Sorry, Miss.

I sigh but say nothing else, as the car continues to travel along the road of no real destination.

There is pros and cons that come with the title of Dante Moretti’s granddaughter.

Pro’s were far and few between because the con’s always slapped me right in the face. Today is no different, only today instead of wasting this chance I am embracing it.

“Can you drop me off at the hotel?”

The driver doesn’t question me and I don’t turn my face from the street lights and bustling cars of Washington DC. I’m 23 today. 1 year to add to my growing hate of my Grandfather and another year to add to the loss of my parents and brother.

We arrive at the hotel just before 8 pm and in a way, I am glad and relieved to just get inside. Sliding out of the Bentley, a standard car if your Grandfather is the Godfather of the underworld, I rush to the door.

“Miss Moretti, you are back early, did you enjoy your dinner?” The doorman asks me as he opens the door to lead me in. He is a short chubby man, around 50. He reminds me of someone I met on my trip to Alaska last September.

My long dress is not the perfect bar outfit but it is definitely

toward the door he’s ushering me to and spot the dim lights and mirrored beams before

the bodyguard which is closest to

hits my nose as I enter and make my way closer to the

get

black will

are designed in a pyramid of cherry wood finishes. Hundreds of bottles of alcohol are stacked around the expanse, catering to a truly wide variety of customers.

of the bar and my

something?” I am genuinely curious.

is hard to make out his face but his

start approaching. I send them a signal with my fingers to relax. I don’t want them ruining an evening before it hasn’t even begun. I get closer to

didn’t see that coming. I’ve never met an

I sit next to him and smile, he stares at

an English woman like yourself to this fine

you, but I am actually Italian.” His face is clean-shaven. His head is cropped short and a tattoo is visible on his

over to this side and as I take a much-needed sip my

what you looking at?” He asks me and a laugh bubbles in the back

I will let you know

don’t strike me as an ordinary Italian, you sound and look British, are you here for

hair. I changed it to red. And yes and no. I came to visit some family. I thought I would surprise my cousin, and he would be all smiles to see me but I missed him. It seems like he