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.

dress is not the perfect bar outfit

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

I signal the bodyguard which is closest to me to tip the

scent that hits my nose as I enter and make my way closer to the bar where I sit down. The bartender is a handsome bulky man, maybe in his late

I get for the

anything black will

cherry wood finishes. Hundreds of

voice comes from the other end of the bar and my eyes fray to the

manager or something?” I

is hard to make out his face but his voice is deep, dry. He

I send them a signal with my fingers to relax. I don’t

see that coming. I’ve never

when I sit next to him and smile, he stares at me with dark intense eyes.

woman like yourself to this

I am actually Italian.” His face is clean-shaven. His head is cropped short and a tattoo is

drink over to this side and as I take a much-needed sip my eyes stain his handsome face with

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

I will let you know when I

you sound and look British, are you

family. I thought I would surprise my cousin, and he would be all smiles to