Beauty and the beast: A Modern Day Fairytale Billionaire Mafia Romance

by Georgia Le Carre

  After breakfast, I returned to my room. I secured my hair in a ponytail at the back of my head and stood before my expansive new wardrobe.

  I was going to bury my hands in the soil, but appeared I only had designer gear in my wardrobe. As much as it hurt to think I would be ruining thousands of dollars worth of luxury items, I had no other choices. I opted for a pair of black Armani skinny jeans, a neon green sweatshirt from Dolce and Gabbana and Gucci boots. I found myself taking care not to glance at the tags as I broke them off. I pulled on a thick jacket with faux fur on the collar, jammed a beautiful black and white baseball hat with a Chanel logo on my head and I was done.

  Still vaguely disturbed by the idea of dressing in such expensive clothes to do some gardening, I quickly left the room.

  I got out through the sunroom and began to make my way across the rolling landscape of lawns covered in pristine snow. I had always lived in the city and I had never had the privilege of walking on such pristine ground where there were only my own footsteps in the ground and such silence.

  Although I was inside a winter wonderland, I did not feel the chill. The air was crisp and exhilarating and I wished I could bring Dad here. Away from that house that smelt of medicine and poverty. Maybe, before I left, I could get Luca to agree to such a visit. It would do my father good to be here in this beautiful part of the world, that much I knew for sure.

  I crossed over a narrow bridge underneath of which was a stream. I was tempted to follow the running water, just to see where it would end, but I pushed away the distracting course and focused on following the instructions that Mary Jane had given to me.

  Soon the steel frames and glass panels of the greenhouse came into view and my heart jumped with excitement. All my life I had loved plants and growing my own stuff. When I was young I did try to grow tomatoes and chilies in the back garden, but for some weird reason they would never do well. They would be doing really well, and then for no reason at all they would become brown, shrivel up and die. I could never understand it and after many tries I finally gave up and stopped trying to grow my own vegetable garden.

  I saw the man I supposed must be John, since Mary Jane told me he was the only one working in the greenhouse that day, pushing a wheelbarrow full of soil into the glass encased space. She also told me he was jealous about his space, so I did not immediately enter the greenhouse, but stood outside and called out politely. From where I stood I could see big healthy looking cabbages and all kinds of plants that you would only get in summer growing abundantly.

  I knew I could be happy here.

  The man with very bushy gray eyebrows and leather skin appeared from behind a row of tomato plants. He was holding a trowel in his gloved hand and scowling at me as though I had intruded on his sacred space.

  “What do you want?” he asked. His voice was as hostile as his face and stance. If he thought he could get rid of me by this show of unfriendliness, he could think again. I was used to my father being grumpy and knew there was no real harm behind it.

  “I’m staying at the house for a month,” I explained politely, “and I was hoping I could potter around here for a little bit. I want to pick up some skills about gardening and if possible plant some flowers.”

  I looked around as I spoke, and noted there weren’t any flower plants. It was all vegetables and herbs and it filled the green house with a clean and earthy scent.

  “No,” was his immediate and seemingly incontestable response. Without waiting for a reply from me, he ducked back behind the tomato plants.

  I smiled. Now I knew for sure he was no big bad wolf. He was actually hiding from me! I walked towards him and found him behind the plants. He was filling little pots with healthy black soil.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  He didn’t look at me. “We don’t plant flowers in the greenhouse. You’ll spoil your fine clothes.”

  “Alright, I’ll plant some vegetables instead, and I don’t care if I spoil my fine clothes.”

  “You can’t grow anything in a month,” he muttered.

  “I know, but I still want to start the process.”

  “It’s hard work and you’ll break your nails.”

  I held out my hands. “My nails are already all broken and I love hard work.”

  He turned then and looked at me from under his bushy eyebrows. “Why do you want to work here?”

  “Because I love gardening. I used to try to grow things in my father’s backyard when I was a child, but they always died and I just want to know what I did wrong.”

  Something flickered in his eyes. A professional’s desire to help me understand my mistakes, but he blanked it. “You’ll have to ask Don Messana’s permission first.”

  “Okay, I will,” I said and smiled at him.

  He grunted and went back to his work.

  I then wandered in the snow for a long time. It was beautiful to be so alone in such beauty. A robin landed on a branch close by. He was so near I could actually look into his eyes. He was so beautiful I wanted to reach out and stroke him. In the distance, I saw a small herd of deer, but I didn’t try to approach them. My hands and feet were frozen, but I felt totally at peace with myself.

  By the time I went back to the house it was already lunchtime and feeling ravenous I headed straight to the orangery. Mary Jane was waiting for me there. She smiled at me. “Shall I serve lunch now?”

  I ate an exquisite meal. There was freshly baked bread with cold butter and a shank of lamb that Mary Jane said the Chef was famous for. It was so tender you didn’t need a knife to eat it. All you had to do was pick it up from one end and shake it gently and the meat would fall off the bone. I tried it and she was right. The flesh simply slid off the bone. I tucked into it hungrily. It was delicious. Then I polished off a small bowl of crème brulee and tried to call the number Luca had given me the first night we met, but the phone appeared to be turned off. I couldn’t imagine his phone was off, so I guessed he must have more than one phone.

  “Is there a way I can reach the Don?” I asked Mary Jane, as I sipped my coffee.

  “I have no idea.” Her tone was laced with incredulity at the very suggestion. “I told you I don’t even—”

  “Know what he looks like,” I finished for her.

  And then I felt bad because it was not my intention to mock her. It was just the way everyone spoke of him made him seem like he was a god or a ghost. I smiled at her. “It’s okay. I’ll ask him when I eventually see him.”

  Once lunch was over I went back to my room, flung my coat on the bed and collapsed next to it.

  Immediately, thoughts of our night together flowed into my head. I blushed to think of the way I had sucked him. As if he was the most delicious lollipop I’d ever tasted. The things we had done to each other in the dark seemed unutterably sensual in the daylight. My fingers moved to the crotch of my jeans, but I pulled my hand away. I had to stop it. I was on the way to becoming a sex addict.

  With a sigh I pulled my phone out of my coat. First I called my father and made sure all was well with him and his tests, then I called Katie, but she was busy at work and promised to call me later. With nothing to do I began to research all I could about the kinds of flowers I would be able to grow given the season.

  I was filled with excitement as I went through countless photos of seedlings and read up on all that I could about growing vegetables in greenhouses. Mary Jane knocked on my door to ask if I would like some tea and cakes. I said yes and went down to the orangery again. There were scones with thick cream and jam; egg and cress finger sandwiches; and some kind of French cake which looked like a tower or flaky pastry layered with custard and fresh fruit.

  Mmmm… delicious.

  Afterwards I wandered into the vast library. There must have been tens of thousands of books in there. I stood in the middle of the room and marveled at all the books lined up on the walls all the way up to the lofty ceiling. I guessed the contents of the library must have come with the house too, beca
use I couldn’t for the life of me imagine Luca choosing these books. It must have taken years to make this collection.

  They were all old books and as I walked along I noted the categories. Ancient European architecture, philosophy, anthropology, medicine, alchemy, and a whole section on esoteric and occult knowledge. I pulled out several and looked inside them. The pages of the books were all yellow with age, and the language used was archaic and difficult to understand.

  It was a strange thing, but I liked being in that library. It was like I had gone back in time. Any moment the door would open and a man or a woman wearing clothes from times gone by would walk in. To my surprise I actually found an old book with a lot of illustrations about growing exotic plants in cold climates. I would have loved to have stayed in the library and read the book there, but the fireplace was not lit and it was too cold.

  I returned to the large living room that faced the front of the house. Its walls were painted a sunny yellow and a fire had been lit in the elaborate marble fireplace. I curled up on the sofa next to it and opened The Intrepid Gardener by Samuel J Snowden.

  Luca was not expected for dinner so I ate a solitary meal in the great dining room. It felt strange and lonely without him. The noises I made with my knife and fork seemed to echo all around me. I wondered where he was, if he even thought of me. Of course not, a little voice taunted. I knew the voice was not wrong. I was just a plaything for an obscenely rich man. The fact that he didn’t even bother to turn up on the second night told me everything I needed to know. He was not desperate for my flesh like I was for his.

  Madam Mitterand looked at me with disapproval but didn’t say anything as I carried the decanter of blackberry wine and my glass with me to the sunny yellow room I’d spent the evening in. I settled myself next to the fire and prepared myself to wait for Luca. I figured it would be easier for me to hear his arrival here than if I remained in my room. I didn’t want him to return in the shadows and leave in the same way with me none the wiser.

  But two glasses of berry wine later I felt drowsy and slightly tipsy. It also didn’t help that I was sitting in what was probably the toastiest room known to man. I didn’t want to fall asleep so I roused myself and walked to the foyer. Despite the estate having numerous security, there was no one about and it was eerily quiet and once again I noted how cold and lonely it seemed. My room had been decorated in warm colors and was enough to keep this feeling at bay but being here right now, with nothing but infinitely tall ceilings and sprawling limestone steps was too ominous.

  I turned away and decided to get a drink of water for my parched throat. I found my way to the kitchen; the space I’d never bothered entering in order to avoid Madam Mitterand’s glares. I found the light switch and as light flooded the space I saw that it was just as magnificent as the rest of the house with its granite countertops and shiny chrome appliances.

  I opened the doors of the huge refrigerator and I found some bottles of water. I uncapped one and lifted it to my mouth. The water was cold and welcome and I shut my eyes to savor it. A sudden sound behind me made me jump back in shock.

  “Oh my God,” I gasped in fright, as I whirled around. Cold water spilled over my body.

  It was someone that I hadn’t seen before. It was a big man with a shiny bald head. He was dressed in a dark suit and was carrying something that looked like a walkie-talkie and I immediately pegged him as part of the security detail.

  “You shouldn’t be in here,” he said in a neutral tone. It wasn’t a rebuke, just a simple statement of fact.

  “I was thirsty.”

  “That’s alright,” he said. “Get what you need and I’ll escort you back to your wing.”

  At a loss for words, I shut the door and exited the kitchen. He walked silently behind me. As we reached the living room where I had spent the evening, I said, “I can find my own way back from here.”

  He nodded. “All right. Good night.”

  “Er… your boss,” I said hurriedly. “Am I going to see him? Tonight?”

  “He is currently away on business.”

  That word away held many possible connotations. “Away, like he’ll be back tomorrow, or away, like he’ll be back in about a week.”

  “I don’t have a response to that,” he said.

  “Is that because you do not know or you just don’t want to give me a response?”

  His expression did not change. “It’s because I am not privy to the knowledge.”

  I chewed my lower lip. I felt my patience running low. Everybody in this house was so cagey. “Is there a way I can reach him then?”

  “Give me a moment,” he said and pulled a phone out of his pocket.

  My heart jumped into my throat. I had expected a refusal. Was I going to get to speak to Luca?

  But no such luck. He quickly typed out a text into his phone then he put it away. My eyes lifted to meet his.

  “I’ve sent your request,” he said. “Goodnight, Miss Morrison.” He turned around to leave.

  “Wait a minute. Aren’t you going to wait a little bit to see if he responds?”

  He turned back, wry amusement in his eyes. “You have your phone with you, don’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’ll contact you directly… if he wants to.”

  Chapter 22

  Luca

  I was on a conference call with Angelo and my father in our family’s mansion in Sicily when the text message came in. Seeing that it came from Luke, who was based at Torrington Hall, I immediately opened it and read what he had to say.

  Miss Morrison wants to speak to you, boss.

  All kinds of thoughts flashed through my mind as I stared at the message until it registered that Angelo was trying to get my attention from one of the two screens in front of me. I put the phone away.

  “Everything alright?” he asked.

  I gave a brief nod.

  My father didn’t comment on the interruption. My father had always been laser focused on the job at hand and despised any kind of emotion or weakness. The way he dealt with Alessa after she did what she did would forever be etched in my mind. “What’s the status with that idiot Fisher?” he asked coldly.

  I focused my mind on the conversation, but my awareness of the request waiting for my response distracted me more than I would have thought was possible. As soon as the conversation concluded and my father signed off I picked up the phone and was about to answer the message when I realized that Angelo was still watching me.

  “Everything alright?” he asked again silkily.

  I tossed the phone aside casually and frowned at him. “Don’t you have a fiancée to get to?”

  “She’s not home right now. She went grocery shopping. Ever since we moved in together she’s fallen in love with experimenting with meals when she’s not at work.”

  “Is that a complaint?”

  “It’s not,” Angelo denied instantly. “Actually, it’s very interesting to see her excited about creating something new for me to try. I’ve had to double my workouts at the gym otherwise she’s going to make me fat while she keeps her heavenly body.”

  My mind immediately went to the contours of Skye’s body. Of all the dips and curves and flesh in all the right places. She was perfectly heavenly.

  “Something’s different about you. What’s going on, Luca?”

  I leaned forward. “Nothing’s going on. I have things to do. Speak to you tomorrow.” Before he could protest I ended the call and the screen became black.

  I stared at my blurry reflection as my fingers thrummed against the table.

  I shouldn’t call her. It was not her place to make demands on my time. In fact, it had annoyed me greatly that I hadn’t been able to get her off my mind all day, not completely. In the little moments when the chaos had settled, she would appear in my head as very vivid memories. I saw her moaning, panting, in the throes of passion… calling out my name as she climaxed.

  I wanted to see that mouth say filthy
things. I thought about how it had felt like to kiss her and it made me shake. I still couldn’t understand why I had been driven by an almost desperate need to taste her. With that one kiss she had broken down walls I had spent years building. Walls I did not want to come down. My life was fine as it was. I had no dependents. No one who truly loved me. One day I would die as I had lived, violently, but I was okay with that too.

  I didn’t need her, or anyone else.

  It was best like this. I picked up my phone and rose to my feet with it. I found her number from my list of contacts and headed over to the door overlooking the room’s balcony. It overlooked the ocean. From this vantage point I could see the dark waves rolling in and crashing against the rocky banks. I opened the door and stepped into the freezing cold night air. The strong ocean wind rushed into me and swept back my hair. I was only wearing a thin dress shirt and the cold bit right down into my bones, but I did not really feel it.

  I gazed unseeing at the dark ocean. It was unknowable, full of weird and wonderful secrets, and all the souls it had stolen through the centuries.

  Hear what she has to say, a voice whispered to me.

  I pressed the call button and placed the phone to my ear. I let it ring for five rings and when she didn’t pick up, I ended the call.

  That’s it, I thought. I had given her a chance and she had missed it. I’d had a long day and tomorrow would be even longer and I should get to bed. However, I couldn’t bring myself to go back inside. Angelo was right. I was not myself. Something was happening inside me. The more I tried to stop it, the worse it became. I gripped the balcony railing, closed my eyes, and leaned out towards the ocean. I thought of her calling me as she came. Like a Siren.

  And then I did the strangest thing.

  I willed her to call me back.

  When my phone started to ring, I opened my eyes and stared down at it with astonishment. The hairs at the back of my neck were standing. I told myself not to be so silly. It was not me who had called to her psychically, it was just her returning my call. I accepted the call and lifted my phone to my ear.