73

MILLIE
In that instant, our connection deepened, the unspoken narratives of our lives intertwining with an intimacy that transcended spoken words.
“I wasn’t really that young, Gio,” I countered, a hint of playful reproach in my voice. “And let’s not forget, you’re only five years ahead in the aging race. Your description makes you sound like some ancient, mysterious figure.”
He chuckled softly, his eyes holding a mixture of fondness and something deeper, more contemplative. “Even on the day of our wedding, your innocence shone through so unmistakably. It was like you had been kept in a precious cocoon, shielded from the world’s harshness. You were this pure soul, while I… well, I was anything but that. I might not have a vast age difference, but the weight of my experiences, the things I’ve seen and done, they set me apart.”
His words left me pondering, wondering if he was alluding to his life as a Made Man or his reputation as a sought-after bachelor. His interactions with numerous women were splashed across the tabloids, a fact that couldn’t be ignored. Confusion gnawed at me, his direction eluding me. “You never seemed to mind my lack of experience…”
He leaned in closer, his tone carrying a hint of possessiveness that never failed to send a shiver down my spine. “I don’t, you know how I am. If you had a history, I’d have probably ended up challenging every man from your past to a duel. Luckily, you were a clean slate, and I’m the only one who gets to write on it now.”
I couldn’t help but release an exasperated sigh, though I detected a slight lift in his mood. “And how many women have you managed to add to your conquests? You lost your innocence at thirteen, which gave you a good ten years before we tied the knot.” The question had been lingering in my mind, even if I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to dig up the answer. But I knew diverting Gio’s attention from whatever had transpired in that intense meeting was crucial.
For a moment, Gio’s features turned guarded, as if he had built walls around those memories. “That’s not something of consequence, it belongs to the past.”
“But I’m curious,” I pressed, my curiosity getting the best of me.
He met my gaze, determination etched into his expression. “Whether it was a hundred or a thousand before you, it doesn’t matter anymore, Millie,” his voice held a finality that left little room for argument.
I let out a resigned sigh, realizing he was probably right, but the inquisitive itch persisted. “A thousand?” I prodded, widening my eyes in mock shock.
A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, a flicker of mischief in his eyes. “Nice try. Let’s just say I made the most of my opportunities.”
“And you had plenty of those,” I concluded, a mixture of jest and reality in my words.
He leaned in, his voice a low, intimate murmur. “But it’s not relevant,” he said just before his lips met mine in a lingering kiss. The sensation was both reassuring and perplexing. I couldn’t help but wonder, could a man accustomed to a sea of lovers truly find contentment with just one? Especially one who had learned everything about intimacy from him.
~***~
As the calendar flipped into the second half of October, the golden rays of mid-autumn sunlight caressed my skin, wrapping me in their gentle warmth. Stepping off our private jet, which had gracefully nestled itself at Palermo’s airport, was like transitioning from a grayscale world into one painted in vivid color. New York’s dreary, rain-soaked days seemed like a distant memory, replaced by Sicily’s embrace of sunshine and balmy air.
With an almost instinctive inclination, I tilted my face skyward, savoring the delicate touch of sunbeams on my skin. Eagerly prepared for the shift to this more inviting climate, I had chosen to drape myself in an orange maxi dress, its ombre shades echoing the sun’s radiance, and a glistening golden belt cinched around my waist. Completing my ensemble were my cherished flat golden sandals, the companions of countless adventures.
In this moment of sunlit reverie, Gio’s hand found mine, his grip firm yet reassuring. A fleeting glance revealed a fierce scowl aimed at our pilot, whose gaze had lingered on me a touch too long. Sensing his tension, I gently tugged at his hand, redirecting his attention to me. The scowl gradually dissolved, overtaken by a softer gaze. “You are too beautiful,” he confessed with a mix of adoration and protectiveness.
I responded with a laugh, the musical notes carrying on the warm breeze. “Come on, let’s go. I’m eager to catch a glimpse of the yacht.” My motivation wasn’t solely driven by the desire to inspect our luxurious vessel but also to create distance between Gio and the pilot before his scowl manifested into something more drastic.
Once our feet touched Sicilian soil, a waiting driver materialized beside a pristine white Maserati SUV. Gio’s voice carried a note of respect as he introduced the driver’s lineage, “He’s a soldier of the Sicilian Famiglia. My great-uncle holds the position of Capo.”
A twinge of curiosity pricked at me. “Have you met him before?”
“Twice,” Gio recounted, his expression momentarily shadowed. “He couldn’t attend my father’s funeral; he was undergoing a pacemaker procedure then. He’s in his seventies, which means his grandson Alessandro will soon assume the mantle.”
The gears of my mind turned as I processed this information. “A generational transition. Will his son not take over?”
“Deceased,” Gio stated matter-of-factly. “Taken down by the De Fiore. They’ve established dominion over Naples and Campania.”
The puzzle pieces were falling into place. “What about the De Fiore’s presence in the States?”
Gio’s eyes held a steely glint. “They maintain a low profile out West. Roman Bianchi is the epitome of recklessness.”
The journey led us to the waiting car, where our driver, a tall figure reminiscent of Gio, sporting a dark beard and hair, extended a hand to Gio, introducing himself in Italian as Alessandro. Surprise flickered across Gio’s features before seamlessly switching to fluent Italian. “I almost didn’t recognize you. It’s been quite some time. Unexpected to see my great-uncle personally dispatch his own grandson for the welcome.”
Alessandro inclined his head respectfully. “A gesture of honor, Gio, as befits men of integrity.” His attention shifted to me, his gaze traversing my form in evident surprise before locking onto my eyes. Addressing me in English tinged with an accent, he continued, “It’s an honor to meet the woman with the resplendent golden hair, the harbinger of peace between the Outfit and the Famiglia.”
Suppressing an amused snort proved to be a challenge.
Gio’s vigilant stare never wavered from Alessandro. “Allow me to clarify, she is also my wife.”
A hint of annoyance stirred within me at their assumption that English was my sole language. Evidently, my reputation for beauty had overshadowed my scholarly achievements; I had topped my class and held admission keys to Ivy League institutions, had circumstances allowed.
Despite the building annoyance within me, I couldn’t help but let a smile play on my lips. Speaking flawless Italian, I addressed the two men before me, “The truce wasn’t my doing, but Gio’s. After all, he holds the esteemed title of the finest Capo New York has ever witnessed.”
Their astonishment was palpable, their gazes locked onto me, but I diverted my raised eyebrows toward Gio. A fleeting expression of gratitude gleamed in his eyes before he redirected his attention to Alessandro. “Should we anticipate a visit from my great-uncle today?”
A sigh of relief washed over me as Alessandro shook his head. “He understands that you’d want to relish your honeymoon with your newlywed wife. However, before you depart for New York, he wishes for a brief meeting.”
Naturally, Gio agreed, his tone accommodating. With Alessandro’s assistance, our bags were deftly loaded into the car’s trunk. Once done, Gio and I found our places in the backseat. Alessandro seemed unperturbed by the arrangement. I suspected Gio’s motive was to keep a watchful eye on the other man. My apprehensions were soothed as Alessandro dropped us off at the harbor before taking his leave.