Riccardo by Elle Raven, Aimie Jennison Page A

the bedroom I had completed, that he offered me a job working for him. He recently had a designer leave to branch out on their own and he had an opening.
    Ideally, it would have been a fantastic opportunity, to have Giancarlo Settimano's name on my résumé. Not only to have been taught by him, but to have actually worked under him was surreal. It was a dream come true. A dream I once had. In saying that though, as much as I enjoyed my time in Italy, I just didn't feel like I could stay. It wasn’t the right time for me. I missed my family way too much. I needed to go home. I wanted to go home.
    My time away from my family and the mafia lifestyle proved to me that not only did I need my family close, but that I belonged there. I wouldn't be the same person if I had been brought up any other way. I'd met a lovely girl named Bianca. She was only a few months younger than me, but so much more naïve. Observing her behaviour, both at the course and socially, made me realise I was not the weak little girl I once was. I had matured and become far more wary, almost hardened. After this trip and the things I'd seen and done, I was proud of who I’d become. I wouldn't want to be anything but the mafia princess I was.
    If Riccardo couldn’t see that side of me, then that was a fault with him not me. Maybe I'd invite Bianca to come visit us in Sydney. Ten minutes in a room with her and Riccardo would surely see I'd matured. He’d also better be ready for our confrontation because I was not going to be idle and not say anything. I wanted answers and Riccardo had a lot to answer for.
    ***
    It was our last day in Sicily, and I desperately wanted to go visit the gravestones of my grandparents, who were buried at Leni Cemetery in the Messina Provence. Paulie stayed behind to do some last minute packing and I had Raphael drive me to the local flower shop where I spent some time picking out a few arrangements for the graves. I knew my father didn't have the best relationship with his own father, but I still wanted to pay my respects and I couldn't visit one grandparent and not the other.
    As we walked through the open wrought-iron gates of the cemetery and steadily made our way to the Morassi graves, I felt a sense of peace and tranquillity. The cool breeze swept over my body and it made me wonder if that breeze was my grandparents welcoming me there.
    Setting down the arrangements of flowers, I raised my hand to the thick marble headstone, tracing the engravings of first my grandmother and then my grandfather’s name. I was instinctively aware of someone behind me as I heard the gravel crunch.
    “I'd be careful if I were you. Touching that name, Giovanni Morassi, may just burn a hole in your hand. That man was dangerous and evil.”
    I turned to look behind me, and what I saw was quite unbelievable. The man before me looked like a Morassi. He resembled my father; however, this man had a shaved head. He was built like a tank and I could see the markings of his tattoos through his linen white shirt, which was tightly stretched across his chest.
    “And you are?” I asked the stranger. Raphael was still standing where he was and made no move at all to try and warn the stranger off me, which is what puzzled me.
    “Dante Morassi. And you must be the beautiful Signorina Morassi.” The gorgeous hunk of a man stretched his arm to take my hand in his and kiss my inner wrist. “You are a vision. The Don has told me all about you, Lorena.”
    “You're Dante Morassi, my father’s cousin? Oh, my gosh. I can't believe I finally get to meet you. It's just a shame it has to be in a cemetery and that it's our last night here.”
    “ Sì è vero . I'm your father’s first cousin.”
    “So, let me get this right. You are the son of Zio Romero, my grandfather’s youngest brother?” I queried, raising my eyebrows and looking from him to Raphael, who was extremely quiet behind me.
    “ Sì . I am. My father was the youngest Morassi brother. He died