66

GIO
Silence cascaded, a confession too potent to deny, too heavy to bear. My silence was admission; my gaze averted, burden acknowledged.
“Fleeting remarks,” he mused, his voice the soft hiss of a serpent, “already ignite your ire. Consider then, the inferno that my actions might ignite, should her sanctity be threatened.”
No further words were needed, the resonance of our shared understanding enveloping us in its shroud.
My fingers pressed against the cool surface of the glass, a nervous energy causing them to tighten involuntarily. However, this time, I managed to anchor myself to my seat, determined not to let my emotions propel me into another fit of recklessness. My gaze remained fixed on the man before me, my brother Sebastian, as I addressed him with a firmness that mirrored my inner resolve.
“You won’t lay a hand on her, so all this talk is pointless,” I asserted, my voice carrying a mixture of frustration and determination. “And don’t forget, you’re my brother, Sebastian. You and Millie are the only ones I truly care about.”
Sebastian’s nod seemed to signify a reluctant agreement, the tension in the room easing as quickly as it had arisen. Leaning forward, he playfully jabbed my shoulder, a gesture that would have elicited a reaction from me on any other occasion. A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips as I allowed this brief moment of camaraderie between us.
“You certainly have a knack for pushing my buttons,” I commented, amusement lacing my words despite the gravity of the situation.
He chuckled, his demeanor lightening considerably. “Well, that’s one of my specialties,” he quipped before a rare hint of seriousness crept into his expression. “Honestly, I might have reacted the same way if you had insulted Harper.”
A heavy sigh escaped me. I had tried to bury the reminder that he had asked for Harper’s hand in marriage, and their engagement party was looming just three weeks away. It was a disaster waiting to happen, an impending chaos that everyone seemed to anticipate-everyone except Sebastian. In his eyes, marrying the fiery-haired, difficult Harper was an exciting escapade, a thrilling journey through the challenges of life.
Just as the weight of the situation threatened to engulf us once again, the shrill ring of my cell phone pierced the air. I groaned inwardly, casting an annoyed glance at the screen that displayed my stepmother Olivia’s incoming call. I had attempted to reach her earlier to discuss the use of the yacht, but she had conveniently ignored my calls. Now that she was finally returning my call, the familiar contempt I held for her resurfaced with a vengeance.
Sebastian’s gaze flicked to the phone, and he rose from his seat with a knowing look. “Don’t bother saying hello on my behalf. I’ll go greet the Underbosses and Captains,” he stated, his attention briefly captured by his reflection in the mirror by the door. He meticulously adjusted his dark hair until it met his satisfaction before sauntering out. I rolled my eyes at his vanity-did he truly believe my subordinates cared about his appearance?
The incessant ringing of my phone persisted, pulling me back from my irritation. Dealing with Olivia’s call and enduring my uncles’ discussions was shaping up to be a colossal waste of my time, especially when I had a captivating woman awaiting my attention in my chambers. With a resigned sigh, I finally answered the call.
“Olivia.”
Her voice dripped with an attempt at sweetness, though it only served to underscore the underlying tension between us. “Gio, my dear, you called?”
The word “dear” hung in the air like a dissonant note in a symphony. We both knew that the facade of affection masked the mutual animosity we harbored. My disdain for her had sprouted the moment she wed my father when I was just a ten-year-old boy. At times, a flicker of empathy had grazed my thoughts when witnessing my sadistic father’s abuse, but any trace of pity had evaporated when I observed her cruel treatment of the household staff. She was a conniving presence, emblematic of the treacherous nature that often festered among the women in our world-whether born of necessity or borne out of boredom.
Before Millie entered my life, I had harbored concerns that she might be hiding a malevolent character beneath her flawless exterior. Yet, much to my relief, she proved to be an embodiment of perfection both inside and out. I couldn’t help but feel grateful for that, as having a woman like Olivia by my side would have undoubtedly led to calamity.
“I require Father’s yacht in four days. Unless you want to return to New York, you’ll need to spend the next two weeks at our holiday house,” I informed her, my tone carrying the weight of authority.
Her response crackled with irritation. “I happen to be touring the Sardinian coast at the moment. Your impromptu vacation plans can’t dictate my schedule.”
The conversation hung between us, a testament to the ever-present discord that marked our interactions. The call was a reminder that even as I navigated the complex dynamics of my criminal empire, personal challenges continued to test my patience and resolve. And amidst it all, a tantalizing allure beckoned from the shadows of my thoughts-the allure of the woman who waited for me, an oasis of warmth and connection in the midst of my tumultuous existence.
Since Father’s passing three weeks ago, I had found myself grappling with a dilemma. I had been showing an unexpected leniency towards her. Her name was Olivia, and she had been wedded to my father before his demise. The weight of my new position as the Capo had settled upon my shoulders, reminding me of the responsibility I now held. It was time for her to recognize that I was now the head, my father’s true successor. A stern conversation was overdue.
“Olivia, your compliance is not optional,” I asserted with a firmness that underscored my authority. The words flowed as I reminded her of my lineage and the undeniable fact that I was my father’s rightful heir. Her insinuation that I had forgotten my potential for ruthlessness hung in the air.
Her silence echoed through the line, a silence that seemed to demand an explanation for my resolve. I grappled with my inner reluctance to cause harm to women, a sentiment that had been ingrained in me since childhood. Yet, the memory of that one incident lingered: the moment I had intervened when she had raised her hand against young Sebastian, my brother. Even at the tender age of ten, I was already towering over her, my strength surpassing hers. The impulse to protect my family had surged through me. My hands had found their way to her throat, fingers tightening with a ferocity that she had perhaps glimpsed in my eyes. Only the timely arrival of my father had halted my grip. In that instant, she had comprehended the latent potential for violence within me, a potential that even my father, in his brutal ways, acknowledged.
It was in those days that my transformation had begun. I, who had witnessed the harshness inflicted by my father, soon became the executor of violence myself. A year later, I claimed my first life, the initiation into the life I was destined to lead. And six years thereafter, I confronted my own kin, my cousin, whose life I snuffed out just as I had once desired to crush Olivia’s throat. She was not oblivious to the change that had consumed me.
As her voice broke the silence, a quiver of emotion barely concealed beneath her words, I couldn’t help but sense the familiar annoyance. Her tone seemed to waver, adopting a vibrato that hinted at a fragility she did not truly possess. Her grief was a facade we both recognized; a pretense that held no sway.
Her words reached my ears, laden with protest, layered with an affected sorrow that grated on my patience. How could she demand sympathy when her true sentiments were clear? I met her falseness with a steely hiss, the sharp edges of my words reflecting the resentment that festered within. She had harbored her own grievances against my father, harbored thoughts that mirrored my own. Her hypocritical stance exasperated me. I could see through her feigned tears, the calculated attempt to manipulate my emotions.