The Mafia's Jewel (BWWM)

03

I couldn't sleep all night. I toss and turn in my bed, the weight of fear and uncertainty pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket. My mind is too plagued by restless dreams of the mafia, of Elio, of faces I may never see again. In my dreams, I am chased by shadowy figures, their menacing whispers echoing in the darkness. I try to run, but my legs feel like lead, and no matter how hard I try, I can't escape the inevitable.

I glance at the clock and feel a pang of dread as I see that it's almost 6 in the morning. Leone will be here anytime soon, and I'm still sitting in my apartment like a damn fool.

I know I should be on my way out of this country, but I also know that even if I make it to Chicago, Leone will just find me there too. When I couldn't sleep, I stayed up late reading about the Sicilian Mafia controlled by the Monte family.

The Montes are one of the most powerful families in Sicily, with their tendrils reaching into every corner of the criminal underworld from drug, human trafficking, to robberies and planned heists, to all sorts of things you can think of. They've killed people who dared to cross them in the most gruesome ways possible, and I have no doubt that I'm next on their list.

So I stay, trapped in this gilded cage of uncertainty, knowing that every moment I spend here brings me one step closer to my inevitable fate. But for now, all I can do is wait, and pray that somehow, I'll find to come out of this alive.

At least I'm not being married to Monte or worse.

As I lie in bed, lost in my thoughts, the familiar buzz of my phone breaks through the silence of the room. With a sigh, I reach for it, my heart fluttering with anticipation as I unlock the screen and read the message from Amara: Hope you made it to Chicago.

My thumbs trace over the words, a pang of guilt gnawing at my insides. How I wish I could tell her about the danger I'm in. But what can Amara do? Like Leone said, the mafia controls everything, and they'll stop at nothing to eliminate anyone who gets in their way.

Instead, I force a smile onto my face and type back: Almost there :" It's a lie, but it's the only thing I can do to keep her from worrying.

I lay back down, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of my situation bearing down on me like a ton of bricks. The landlord hasn't once checked to see if I've left the apartment since yesterday. She probably knows the mafia is here for me, but what can she do?

My phone buzzes again, and for a moment, I hold my breath, hoping it's another message from Amara. But when I check, it's just a notification from the Italian government: "Your visa to stay in Italy has been extended."

I can't help but let out a bitter laugh at the irony of it all. All week, I've been dreading leaving Italy, wishing I could stay just a little bit longer. And now, all I want is to get out of here just to escape the clutches of the mafia and find safety somewhere far away. Maybe if I kept my strong sense of receiving justice within me, then none of this would have happened. I would be sitting on the plane by now.

Summoning every ounce of courage I can muster, I force myself to get out of bed and freshen up. The cool water from the faucet soothes my frayed nerves as I splash it on my face, washing away the remnants of sleep.

With trembling hands, I reach for my laptop that's located in my kitchen table, desperate for distraction from the looming threat that hangs over me. I open it and type in the name of the pizzeria where Elio owned, my heart pounding in my chest as I search for any news about what happened.

My breath catches in my throat as I read the headline: "Pizzeria owner dies in a fire. No suspect found." Anger bubbles up inside me like a volcano ready to erupt, my fists clenched in frustration.

"That evil lying son of a—"

"Oh, good, you're awake, Jewel." Leone says casually, stepping into my small kitchen as if he owns the place. "I came to pick you up, but I saw you were still sleeping peacefully, so I waited for you to wake up."

I jump at the sound of his voice, my heart racing in my chest as I whirl around to face him. "And you were just sitting here the entire time?" I demand, my voice trembling with anger and fear.

Leone shrugs nonchalantly, as if my reaction is nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

"How did you even get in?" I ask, my mind spinning with questions. "Nevermind," I add quickly, realizing that his methods are the least of my concerns right now. "I don't care anymore. Just take me away or whatever."

"I love the enthusiasm," he coos, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I shoot him a glare, my patience wearing thin. "Relax, signora," he says, raising his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. "I'm not going to lock you up in my mansion if you were thinking that. But if you want, you can have a room right next to me."

"I was not."

Leone chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I was simply going to let you stay close and call when I need you," he says, his tone casual.

"Call on me?" I grow suspicious over what this favor Leone is asking of me.

"I will explain on the way there. Now go change and meet me downstairs."

~

I descend the stairs of my apartment building, my footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. As I step outside, I'm greeted by the sight of a sleek, black car parked at the curb, its polished exterior gleaming in the morning sunlight.

With a sense of resignation, I make my way towards the vehicle and slide into the backseat, where Leone is already waiting for me. I don't say a word to him, choosing instead to stare out the window as the car starts to drive, lost in my own thoughts.

My gaze fixed on the quiet streets of Palermo as they pass by in a blur of motion. The morning sunlight casts long shadows across the cobblestone streets, painting the buildings in hues of gold and amber.

Despite the beauty of the city, there's an eerie stillness that hangs in the air, a sense of unease that lingers like a fog. It's as if the city itself is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

I watch as people go about their daily lives, their movements slow and deliberate, as if they too can sense the tension that hangs in the air. A group of old men sit outside a café, sipping espresso and chatting quietly amongst themselves. A young couple walks hand in hand down the street, lost in their own world of whispered conversations and stolen glances.

I can feel Leone's eyes on me, his gaze burning into the side of my face as I avoid his scrutiny. "What?"

"How fluent is your Italian?" he asks, his voice smooth and measured.

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, suspicion gnawing at the edges of my consciousness. "I'm pretty fluent...Why?"

Leone nods, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Good, very good," he murmurs, his hand coming up to rub his stubbled chin thoughtfully. "And with you being a foreigner, no one will suspect a thing."

My heart skips a beat at his words, a cold dread settling in the pit of my stomach. "Is this some type of escort shit you're throwing me into?"

"But we are going to have to fix that dirty mouth of yours. Its not elegant."

"Did you even listen to what I said?"

Leone chuckles softly, his amusement evident in the way his eyes dance with mischief. "Of course, not at all, mio caro," he replies smoothly, his tone dripping with honeyed charm. "You are simply going to be the jewel of my long-term plans."