His Mafia Queen

Mysteries of the Past

GABRIEL

The afterglow of Riley fades with every mile I fly on the private plane to Jacksonville. It's almost dark, and after a day of business meetings I was finally able to get the hell out of Tampa.

Burying a friend is never easy; burying a mentor is even harder. That Donnie was like my grandfather, one who harbored deep secrets of mine, makes it all the more difficult. There are also several business entanglements to consider.

But my motto in life is don't worry until there's something to worry about, and right now, the matter at hand is burying my friend. I know he didn't want a big mafia funeral, and he'd also told me that he wanted to be buried quickly after death. I'm going to Jacksonville to make sure those wishes are followed.

When we land, a car whisks me to Donnie's house. It's in a beautiful spot on Amelia Island, with views of the Atlantic Ocean. He bought it when he married Maria, his second wife. She's an interior designer, or was until she married Donnie, which means the house décor is always changing depending on trends. She's also twenty-five years younger than Donnie, and he'd always gripe about how she'd "bring shit into the house from that website thing."

His grumpiness always belied how much he loved his wife, though.

I haven't been here in six months, so when Maria's assistant lets me in, I take in the soft gray and white interior. A soothing place to die.

"Sir, Maria's at the funeral home." The assistant, who is an older woman, sniffles.

I squeeze her arm. "He really adored everyone who worked for the family. Thank you for being there for him in his last days."

The assistant nods and inhales deeply. "She wanted me to tell you to wait in the sunroom. Mr. and Mrs. Bianchi are already here, and that's where they are."

Ahh. Things must be serious if Gia Amato-Bianchi is here. People in our business think her husband Alessandro is in charge of South Florida, but in reality, I know it's Gia. She's sharp.

"Thank you." I hand the assistant my overnight bag—I always stay in the carriage house in the back of the property—and make my way to the sunroom. Normally I'd make a crack or a joke when I saw Alessandro and Gia, but today, I walk in, somber.

"Buongiorno," Ale says, immediately standing and folding me into a hug. Donnie was special to him, too, but he hadn't known the man as long as I did.

"Hey, bro." There's a sadness in our voices, an acknowledgement of the passing of a legend.

We break apart and there's Gia, a little wisp of a woman with long, dark hair. She's got tears in her eyes, probably because Donnie had been in her life since birth, too.

"Gabriel, it's good to see you." We hug briefly, and then all sit on rattan furniture with turquoise pillows. Like every other room in the house, this looks like a high-end furniture photoshoot, right down to the view that overlooks a lush tropical garden.

"Espresso?" Ale asks, and I nod.

He stands and goes to a bar area, pouring me a cup. Gia sighs. "We all knew this day would come, especially since Donnie had all those health issues, but..."

"But it still sucks," I say grimly, taking the cup from Ale. "How's Maria holding up? I'm surprised she didn't want us there at the funeral home."

Ale sits and stretches his arm on the back of the sofa. I think he's been working out because he looks more muscular than usual, probably because he knows Gia likes that kind of thing. At least that's what he once told me. I'm no slouch in the muscle department, but next to Ale, I'm a weakling.