Sold to Mr. Giordano

Arielle

It took me barely ten minutes to get to phone number of Arielle’s friend Gia. She was married months prior to my wedding with Ary and lives in Philadelphia with one of the underbosses. It’d be hard to get Gia to Chicago with her husband being the possessive bastard all Made Men are.

I also didn’t know if trusted Gia with the secret of my wife’s pregnancy. Of course I want Ary to be able to talk to someone who probably knows more about pregnancy than I ever would. I mean don’t girls research pregnancy as well as dream about it?

I delete Gia’s number and am back to square one. There is no way in hell I’ll suggest Ary talks to Arabella. I can’t trust her now that she is Luca’s wife. Even if my cousin hates her cousin’s guts and would never tell Luca about the pregnancy, there is no doubt in my mind that the call will be somehow monitored.

Arielle walks downstairs with her shoulders slumped and red face slick with tears. I stand from the couch and watch her descend slowly as she wipes her face in the crook of her elbow.

“What’s wrong?”

“I-I just wanted to talk to Angelo a-and I couldn’t get through to him. His phone is on and he has the day off—right?” I nod. “Then why isn’t he answering me?”

“Maybe he’s busy,” I offer. I know many Made Men spend their days off at the Famiglia’s club—The Silver Shadow.

“Maybe,” her sigh sounds like one of defeat.

For her sake I pick up my phone and dial Angelo’s burner phone—one that all the Made Men have on them in case of emergencies. They could be balls deep in the best pussy but if their phone went off, they’d answer.

The phone rings once, then twice, and by the third time I’m so pissed off I’m ready to throw the phone against the wall.

“Fuck. He’s not answering,” I begin to pace the living area.

 Arielle fidgets nervously and bites her lip. “What does that mean. Is he ignoring us?”All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

I shake my head grimly. “I don’t think so.”

“What does that mean?” I can tell by the rise and fall of her chest she’s beginning a panic attack.

I take a few long strides over to her and grip her by the shoulders. “He could’ve just left his phone in the other room.”

He’d be an idiot to do something that stupid. 

“Don’t worry,” I rub her upper arms. “I’ll figure it out.” I grab my jacket and motion for Carmelo who is lurking in the fridge to keep his eye on Arielle.

Angelo, what the fuck did you get into?