Gifted To The Don The Real Mafia Heiress Returns Chapter 01
The Gift
My sister spikes my wine and ships me off to warm the bed of the most feared Don in the city — so I smile and say, “Perfect. I’ve been needing a new footstool.”
Vivienne thinks I’ve cracked. Her voice drips venom through the velvet.
“Don’t blame me, sweetheart. Papa crossed the Ricci Family. What did you expect?”
“Their Don wants a girl to keep. He gets you, he forgets the debt. The whole family walks.”
“One girl for all of us. That’s a bargain.”
My limbs are useless — whatever Vivienne slipped in my wine has me boneless.
Two of her men fold me into the back of a black sedan like laundry.
Driving through the old district, I catch it — the underpass, three bodies strung up under the bridge, tongues cut.
Ricci signature. Everyone in the city knows the calling card.
Vivienne watches my face in the rearview.
“See that? That’s your future husband’s handiwork. You keep your mouth shut and your knees soft, understand? Don’t drag us down with you.”
I lean my cheek against cold leather. And I laugh.
Dante’s handiwork.
Six years ago, that man knelt in the snow with blood in his teeth, begging me to put a bullet in his head.
He wasn’t so terrifying then.
—
The alcohol’s still in my system. My hands won’t close. The car reeks of cheap cologne and Vivienne’s perfume, and I want to be sick.
Up front, my darling father and darling sister are whispering.
“Papa, is this really enough? The skimmed money from the shipments — Ricci’s not the forgiving type—”
Vivienne. Nervous under the honey.
“She’s not blood. She’s a stray we took in. If she buys us a pass, that’s the best she’ll ever do for this family.”
Salvatore Moretti. My ‘father’, voice like a closing vault.
Vivienne giggles. It’s poisoned candy.
“You’re right. Better her than me. Once this blows over, Lorenzo puts a ring on my finger and we’re untouchable.”
I keep my eyes shut. My mouth curves — cold, small.
Lorenzo Colombo — a name I haven’t heard in years.
Vivienne’s fiancé is him? What a coincidence.
And the Don they’re feeding me to — Dante Ricci, the man who peels skin off men for looking at him sideways — used to be my sworn soldier. My shadow.
Six years ago, when my family was attacked by Lorenzo’s father — my father’s own brother — Dante protected me with every ounce of strength he can.
When he sensed there was no way out, he begged me to kill him, so that his death could help cover my tracks.
“Miss Colombo, kill me. Use me. Let my body buy you the door out.”
I told him no. “Keep your life. Change your name. Live.”
I faked my death that night. Slipped the noose.
And by some sick joke of the universe, I got scooped up as the Morettis’ “long-lost illegitimate daughter” — a story Salvatore invented for the outside world.
I thought I’d never see Dante again in this life.
Let alone imagined he’d claw his way to the top of the Ricci Family. Become the Don everyone whispers about — and fears.
And now my loving new family is gift-wrapping me for his bed — like some kind of offering.
Isn’t that just — funny.
Vivienne’s voice again, syrup-thick with pity.
“Don’t hate me, Bella. Blame your bad luck. If you hadn’t played hero and took that bullet for me, you wouldn’t be a walking pharmacy.”
“You wouldn’t be an embarrassment. Papa wouldn’t have to hide you.”
That winter. That gala.
Back then, Vivienne treated me like a real sister. She introduced me to everyone, took me to every kind of party, stood up for me whenever someone questioned my identity.
I actually believed her.
So when someone raised a pistol at her, I didn’t even think.
I threw myself between her and the barrel, my only thought that I couldn’t lose another person I loved.
That bullet nearly killed me.
I lost so much blood, and spent three months in the ER after.
And because the bullet had hit my spine and my lungs, my leg has never worked the way it used to, and my lungs never came back right.
Vivienne held me and cried, swore she’d love me forever, swore I was her true family.
Now she calls me a defect, and is throwing me to a man to save her wedding.
—
The car stops.
The driver’s voice: “Ricci Manor.”
Vivienne yanks the door open. Beams down at me like I’m roadkill.
“Out you go, sis. If he likes you? You’ll live like a queen.”
She leans in, voice dropping. “If he doesn’t — well. Nobody’s gonna miss a bastard daughter. We don’t even have to claim the body.”
Two thick-necked women reach in to haul me out.
“Get your hands off me.”
I open my eyes. Whatever she sees in them makes them both jerk back.
Behind her, Salvatore is oiling up, hat in hand.
“She’s a pretty thing, Don Ricci. Sweet-tempered. A gift, from our house to yours.”
Years ago, it was also this man who took me in his arms and said, “You’re safe now, kiddo. Papa’s got you.”
I believed him too. God, I believed everyone.
Now his first move is to gift-wrap me for another Don.
Vivienne shoves a bag into my lap. Sheer red silk. Nothing underneath.
“Put it on. Ricci sent it over. Said it’s what he wants you serving him in.”
She hits the word serving like a slap.
I don’t move. I just look at her.
“Vivienne, you know once we walk through those gates, nobody walks back out?”
Her smile freezes, then splits into a laugh. “You’re threatening me? Bella, worry about yourself.”
She throws the silk in my face and marches off like I’m contagious.
“Keep an eye on her. When the Don gets home, take her straight upstairs.”
The door slams.
I lift the silk. Real. Heavy. Hand-stitched. The kind of thing that costs more than Salvatore’s car.
Dante. Six years and you climbed this high.
I peel off my ruined dress, slide the red silk over my head.
Tonight, we settle old debts.