Chapter 3

• Jacopo talked some more about other businesses before the meeting ended and they headed to the dining room.
• They all got there.
• "Good morning Mother."
• "I am glad you guys are done with your meeting." Mother said as they entered the room.
• Mother, Greta was married to Jacopo Colombo—a high profile boss of one of the biggest organised outfits in the United State.
• Marcello always wondered if Greta was forced to marry Jacopo because the Mafia was well known for their contract or arranged marriage, whatever they call it. Traditionally women in Mafia families were kept outside the business side of things. Greta was simply a mother and housewife.
• He had never seen Greta and Jacopo showing any kind of love towards each other. It was obvious Greta respected her husband but didn't love him.
• Marcello wasn't interested in those two words 'marriage and love'. Not even kids.
• "Let us have breakfast before we leave for church." She added from her spot at the table.
• "No, mother. We are going to Brooklyn and we don't want to be late for church." Adriano replied coolly.
• Greta rolled her eyes at her eldest son's cold reply. "If you boys don't want to eat then good for you. Marcello, sit-down and eat with us."
• A wave of awareness ran down Marcello's spine when Gabriella's gaze settled on him across the table. He was going to ignore her, but found himself glancing at her anyway.
• Dante, her husband, sat on her other side. He leaned back in his chair, looking bored.
• "Mother, I…"
• "Don't refuse me. Sit down and eat." She interrupted.
• Greta was an obstinate woman when it comes to him and he knew he had no choice but to obey her.
• "I am just going to eat a slice of bread then I'm leaving." He told her.
• "Go on, eat, son." She said, smiling.
• "We will be waiting for you at the garage. One minute is all you have to meet us there." Giorgio warned with a frown on his face.
• Marcello took a sip from the glass of water in front of him as his eyes met Gabriella's again. He frowned.
• He remembered his father used to have a saying; Non ha il dolce a caro, chi provato non ha l'amaro. It was a way of telling him that regret is the most painful thing in life and there was no room for it, and that a man can have moments of light in a year or moments of suffering.
• He'd heard it when he was seven, as he looked at the first dead man he'd ever seen; eyes open, blood pooling on the pavement of the road.
• His father wasn't moved as he drove past the scene. It was as if he was used to seeing people die before his eyes.
• Ever since Marcello became a part of Colombo crime family, he realised regrets were easy to come by. They piled up, each one weakening a man's determination. He didn't regret much, and up until recently he had only one that followed him around for years. He regretted fucking Gabriella while she was just 19 years old, a virgin, and about to get married to Dante.
• Marcello stood up from the chair, and all eyes on the table drifted towards him.
• "I will be on my way, Mother." He said and walked away.
• Hours later…
• Brooklyn, New York City.
• 9:00 am, At the church.
• Church was never Marcello's thing. He understood the importance the Colombo family held for religion, respected it, but that didn't mean he particularly liked it.
• He just didn't like the gathering. He preferred praying alone.
• Mass was a two hour event. It never ended.
• "I am going to the confession box." He announced loud enough for his brothers to hear.
• They were all putting on black outfits.
• "Go confess all your sins, brother." Luca chuckled.
• Marcello nodded and left for the confession box.
• Honestly, he had nothing to confess about not like even if he confesses his sins will he repent. He had committed a lot of sins that are so many that it could take the whole day confessing his sins.
• He just needed a good smoke away from the large crowd. He wanted to be alone and where he could get that was the confession box.
• Walking the short distance to the confession box, he grabbed the curtain and tugged it open.
• "Is that you, Father?" A female voice called from the other side of the latticed opening.
• Marcello promptly froze right where he stood as he heard the enchanting voice that sounded like his mother for a minute or not.
• "Are you there, Reverend?"
• "Y..yes, uh, let's begin." He raised a brow.
• What was he doing?
• Pretending to be a priest.
• "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned."
• "What sin?" Marcello didn't know why but he felt compelled to hear more of this 'sin' she committed.
• "I had dirty thoughts about a man." She said, her voice shaking.
• Marcello's eyes flickered with dark enjoyment. "What kind of thoughts, child?"
• "I touched myself." She choked out. It sounded like she was ashamed of saying this when she knew the priest didn't know who she was. "I want to ask for forgiveness from the Lord."
• "How did you feel?"
• "It was so new to me. It felt so good…" she suddenly stopped as if realising something.
• Amusement filled Marcello. He tried to ignore the heat running to his groyne at the thought of a woman touching herself in front of him.
• "You…"
• "Wait." She interrupted.
• "Is there something wrong?" There was no response from the woman. "Are you still there?"
• Marcello was taken aback as the curtain tugged open and a gorgeous woman appeared before him.
• She was putting on a white dress. Damn, she looked so innocent.
• His eyes flickered over, taking in every inch of her.
• Her body… fucking pleasantly shaped. Her eyes cool and brown in a beautiful face, her hair as black as a Raven's wing, and long enough that he could imagine himself wrapping it around his fist twice. The thought had fitted through his mind unwillingly. And at church. Christ.
• Her big brown eyes glared at him. "You aren't Reverend John!"
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