The Mafia Boss Grinned When She Cursed Him in Sicilian and Then Told Her to Say It Again to His Face

At five o'clock the following morning, the shrill ring of Gabriel's encrypted phone shattered the quiet peace of the master bedroom.

Gabriel reached out instantly, grabbing the phone off the nightstand before the second ring could wake Frankie. But she was already stirring, her brown eyes opening sleepily as she shifted against the soft white sheets.

Gabriel sat up, his bare back displaying a map of old scars, his face instantly turning to hardened steel as he listened to the voice on the line.

"Speak," Gabriel commanded softly.

A pause. Then Marco’s panicked voice echoed loudly enough for Frankie to hear from the bed: "Boss! We’ve got a massive fire at Pier 42! Bay Three and Bay Four are fully engulfed! Someone cut the fuel lines on the yard mules and lit them!"

Gabriel stood up in a single, fluid motion, his jaw clenched so hard his cheekbones looked like carved granite. "Are my men hurt?"

"Sal took some smoke inhalation trying to fight it, but he’s conscious! The fire department is on site, but Boss... the heavy container crane had its main hydraulic cable cut! It dropped a forty-foot container onto the main terminal road! The whole pier is blocked!"

Gabriel’s gray eyes flashed with a terrifying, icy rage. "I’m on my way. Lock down the gates. Nobody leaves."

He hung up the phone and turned toward the bed.

Frankie was already out of the sheets, pulling her work pants and boots back on with frantic speed. Her face was pale, her heart hammering against her ribs like a sledgehammer.

"Sal," she breathed, looking up at Gabriel. "Is Sal okay?"

"He's alive," Gabriel said, pulling on a black shirt and dark jeans. "The Morettis moved faster than I anticipated. They attacked the maintenance bays directly."

"They didn't just attack the bays, Gabriel," Frankie said, her voice shaking with rage as she tied her steel-toed boots. "They targeted the equipment I spent four days fixing. They tried to kill my chief mechanic."

Gabriel walked over to her, taking her face in both of his hands, his gray eyes dark and absolute. "You stay here, Francesca. Under guard. My men will secure the house."

"Like hell I will!" Frankie snapped, shoving his hands away, her dark eyes flashing with pure volcanic fire. "Sal is my mechanic! Pier 42 is my fleet yard! If you think I'm going to sit in this luxury mansion sipping tea while my garage burns, you really don't know who you slept with last night, Costa!"

Gabriel stared at her, his expression shifting from dark authority to a strange, fierce pride.