L'Angelo della Morte | A Mafia Romance

Prologue

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I'll shout it out like a bird set free.

~ Sia

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Shards clattered off the wall and rained around Carlissa like hail. She staggered – her backside hitting the dark oak desk in Livio's office.

"Look at what you've done," he hissed. His nostrils flared – his black gaze unyielding.

"I– I'm sorry," Carlissa stuttered. If she could, she would've sunk back into the wood of the desk behind her, safe from his unforgiving wrath. She would've melted onto a puddle and seeped between the floorboards.

"Sorry?" His lips pulled into a snarl and his bleached hair fell over his forehead in bundles of untamed strands. "You're sorry?"

Carlissa dropped her attention to the floor – more importantly – to the heaps of documents sprawled across it. Tiny, jagged pearls of glass were scattered on top of the mess she'd clumsily created.

Livio snapped his fingers, catching the attention of one of his faceless bodyguards. It was a tall man – fit by the looks of it – dressed head to toe in black. A hood draped over his head concealed his eyes and a black material covered everything from his cheekbones and down.

"Take her to her room," Livio ordered the silent man, "she's not to leave it before she's reconsidered her actions."

Carlissa didn't struggle when the man laid a hand on her shoulder and nudged her towards the door. He kept his head bowed, his face completely hidden under the shadows of the hood.

As they neared her room, the man dropped his hand and simply fell into step with her. She caught a glimpse of a tattoo sneaking up the back of his pale hand when he pushed her door open and gestured to the small, dark room nonchalantly.

She said nothing; Carlissa merely bowed her head and stepped inside. She listened for the soft click of the lock that never came.

Her heart jolted in her chest. Livio was attending a business party tonight – he wouldn't be home. She peered at the closed door in the dark.

They never forgot to lock the door. She plopped down on the edge of her bed, sinking into the soft mattress.

Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness of the tiny room, allowing her to see the confining walls of the prison she'd lived in for two years.

Her attention drifted back to the door. Maybe this was a chance? Maybe this was her only opportunity.

She pulled her legs to her chest and hugged her shins, listening intently for the sound of the front door.

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Minutes – perhaps hours – had gone by when Carlissa stirred. It was unmistakable – the familiar slam of the front door that had alerted her of Livio's absence and arrival for ages.

She eased off the bed, careful not to make a single sound, and tiptoed to the door. The knob turned with ease and the door cracked open silently, revealing the dimly lit living room of the penthouse that had been her home.

Her eyes fell on the TV. A movie was on – viewed by the only other person in the living room.

He sat on the couch, his back facing Carlissa. His arms were draped across the backrest on either side of him – his hood pulled down revealing a head of dark, curly hair.

She took a cautious step forward, gritting her teeth when a floorboard creaked under her weight. She froze for a second – eyes glued to the back of her prison guard; he showed no sign of having heard her.

She trod lightly, making her way towards the door at snail speed. Carlissa's heart was raging in her chest, loud enough for her to hear her own pulse drumming in her ears.

Her eyes continuously scanned her surroundings – watching for any hidden guards, or even just a twitch of the one in plain sight.

Her hands were trembling when she finally made it to the front door – that's when she paused.

The key. It was still lodged in the keyhole, readily available to unlock the front door.

She stared the silver key down the way you'd stare at a potential threat. It had a faint inscription. #02.

Was this a plan? A test? Regardless, she couldn't pass on the opportunity. The potential for freedom.

Carlissa chewed her bottom lip, willing her hands to stop their violent tremors as she delicately grasped the key. She twisted it slowly – barely at all – and within a few tense seconds, the lock clicked softly.

Her brows dipped. There was no way. Livio's guards were many things, but never incompetent. Could it really be this easy?

She eased the door open just a crack and glanced through the gap. No guards in the hallway. None. Where is everyone?

Before she could think better of it, Carlissa pushed the door open and slipped through, closing it silently behind her. She was light on her feet, but her pace quickened as she made it to the emergency stairwell; she wouldn't be caught dead in the elevator – it would be the first thing they locked down if they found her to be missing.

As soon as she stepped down on the first step, she bolted. Her feet smacked against each metal step, her lungs soon begging for air as she sped up her descent.

The stairs were endless. Every time she thought she'd reached the bottom, another set of stairs came into view – until finally, her feet hit the landing below.

She slipped through the door and into the lobby, keeping her back straight and her eyes ahead. Act natural, she repeated to herself. She brushed past formally clad men and women, only excusing herself when she bumped into a middle-aged lady in a shimmery gown.

The door was right there. So close. She pushed it and burst into the Las Vegas street, welcoming the fresh air with a relieved smile.

Now what?