MILLIE
In the picture, both Gio and Sebastian stood, ages three and five, attired in miniature suits. Even then, Gio possessed an unusual height for his age, his frame somewhat scrawny but his countenance oddly mature for a child. Strangely adult eyes gazed from his young face. On the other side, Sebastian clutched his brother’s hand in a display of unwavering fraternal connection.
Amused, I commented, “Look at you two, holding hands like the closest of allies.”
A groan escaped Gio, and as I turned the page, a shared tension spread through the room. The photograph portrayed Sebastian and Gio, once again dressed in those same suits, flanked by a woman whose long, dark hair cascaded around her face. Her eyes held an expression of profound desolation, a despair that seemed to seep from the photograph itself. It was no wonder, given that Gio’s mother had tragically taken her own life when he was just a nine-year-old boy. The depth of her anguish was palpable, an emotion etched into the frame.
Quickly, I shifted to the next pages, attempting to alleviate the somber atmosphere. I stumbled upon an image of Gio in his teenage years, sporting an undoubtedly ill-fated mustache that prompted a chuckle from Sebastian.
“Ah, the ‘pornstache’,” Sebastian quipped, his laughter alive with camaraderie.
“Pornstache?” I echoed, a quizzical arch to my brows. Gio’s glare in Sebastian’s direction hinted at some playful sibling rivalry.
Sebastian elaborated, “It’s a term for the kind of facial hair you often see on, well, adult film actors.”
Amused and perhaps a tad tipsy, I took another sip of champagne, savoring its effervescence despite my burgeoning intoxication.
Gio’s voice held a mixture of chagrin and nostalgia, “I was fourteen and thought it made me look mature.”
As he turned the page, a new photograph emerged, depicting him on a yacht, clad only in bathing shorts. The mustache had vanished, replaced by a burgeoning physique that displayed a young man’s emergence. Despite being no more than sixteen, his body was already etched with sinewy muscles.
My gaze wandered appreciatively, and in response, Gio’s lips curled into a self-assured smirk. In that moment, our private anticipation danced in the air a shared understanding of what lay ahead.
~***~
After the Wilbur party incident, the subject remained untouched, lingering unspoken between us. A few days elapsed, and the calendar dictated our departure for Chicago, where Mathias’s wedding was set to take place. The prospect of the upcoming event injected a sense of anticipation into the air.
The day arrived, and I found myself amidst the festivities, a witness to the union of Mathias and Kayla. Dressed in a gown adorned with cream sequins, my cousin Kayla looked like a vision of elegance. The wedding itself wasn’t an extravagant affair, differing greatly from the grandeur of our own. Nevertheless, the guest list neared the two-hundred mark, comprising a mix of individuals from the Outfit and the Famiglia. Amidst the delicate decorations of pink and blush roses that bedecked the ballroom of the hotel, an air of relaxed celebration enveloped the space.
As the music swelled, I couldn’t help but watch Mathias and Kayla’s first dance. Their movements seemed to synchronize with the melody, and a smile tugged at my lips. The atmosphere was a far cry from the tension that had gripped us during the Wilbur party debacle.
Amid the crowd, Gio’s touch brought me back to the present. His fingers gently squeezed my hip, a small gesture laden with playful familiarity. “I don’t recall seeing this much joy during our own wedding dance,” he remarked, a note of amusement dancing in his eyes.
A soft laugh escaped my lips. “Well, you have to admit, I was quite intimidated by you back then.” Kayla, on the other hand, exuded a sense of confidence that stemmed from both her age and her previous marriage. The fear I had harbored during our own wedding night seemed almost comical in retrospect.
The invitation of the dance floor beckoned, and Gio swept me into his embrace, guiding me skillfully along the rhythm of the music. It never ceased to amaze me how deftly he moved, a testament to his hidden talents. Looking up at him, a radiant smile illuminated my face, and I noticed his thumb caressing my exposed back a public display of affection, rare yet cherished.
As the song waned, tradition dictated a switch of partners. Gio relinquished me to Mathias’s waiting hand, while he, in turn, claimed Kayla. Dancing with Mathias wasn’t an unfamiliar experience, yet this time, a certain tension hung in the air. As his hand pressed against the bare expanse of my back, memories of that night of indiscretion resurfaced, causing an involuntary shiver to ripple through me. Mathias’s reaction was equally telling, his own tenseness mirroring my discomfort. The allure of backless dresses had its price, apparently.
A flicker of wry amusement graced Mathias’s features. “My apologies,” he offered in a tone that echoed formality, yet harbored a hint of jest.
I couldn’t help but reply in an attempt to lighten the mood. “There’s no way you can be blamed for my choice of dress. Short of venturing into scandalous territory, you’re limited in your reach.”
A ghost of a smile played on Mathias’s lips. “Indulging in scandal isn’t a luxury I can afford. Your husband might take offense.”
I followed his gaze, catching Gio’s watchful eye as he twirled Kayla across the dance floor. Kayla’s demeanor had shifted considerably; where she had appeared at ease dancing with Mathias, tension now marred her expression as she clung to Gio.
“You seemed to bring out her joy more,” I remarked playfully, a subtle reference to the similarities in Mathias and Gio’s possessive nature. In that moment, Mathias’s grip on my back grew tighter, and a darker intensity settled in his gaze a reflection of the same dominance Gio often displayed.
With a seamless transition, Sebastian replaced Gio as my partner, releasing me from Mathias’s hold. I politely declined a dance with an Outfit associate, using it as an excuse to quench my thirst and seek a reprieve from the undercurrents of possessiveness that seemed to engulf the room. But my intention faltered as Kayla’s laughter rang out, drawing my attention back to the dance floor. She and Sebastian were dancing in closer proximity than convention dictated, prompting a narrowed gaze from Gio, but it wasn’t Gio who held my concern.
Mathias’s eyes bore an intensity that I recognized from my own husband. It was a look that conveyed territorial instincts and a hint of danger. Suppressing my thirst, I hastened toward the dance floor, sidling up to Sebastian and Kayla. With a pretense to dance with Sebastian, I placed myself between him and Kayla, intuitively grasping the brewing storm of possessiveness that threatened to unravel.
Kayla’s gaze flickered from me to her husband, realization dawning upon her. Stepping back from Sebastian, she allowed a grin to grace her features before Sebastian’s hand found mine, pulling me against his solid frame.
The impact elicited a gasp from me, and my indignant expression only fueled Sebastian’s wider grin. Without hesitation, his palm pressed against the expanse of my back, a gesture reminiscent of the possessiveness I had come to associate with Harper, his own formidable wife.
In that moment, it was evident that the clash between these two dominant forces, Harper and Sebastian, held an inevitability to it a collision that seemed as certain as the very air we breathed.
Sebastian’s approach to life was akin to a perpetual game, one where he reveled in the midst of provocation and reveled even more in the chaos that followed suit. It was an inclination that set him apart, rendering any concerns about Gio’s potential reaction to mere insignificance. Understanding the idiosyncrasies of Sebastian’s character, I found solace in the firm clasp of his embrace, allowing the rhythmic dance to carry us across the floor with an air of enchantment.
Amid the swirl of emotions and movements, my gaze inadvertently sought out Harper, positioned a little distance away. Her countenance bore a scowl, a testament to her inner turmoil as Sebastian’s eyes met hers fleetingly, accompanied by a knowing wink. Responding instinctively, my fingers dug into Sebastian’s shoulder, compelling his attention to swing back to me. The words that escaped my lips carried an unintentional edge, bordering on an authoritative command, as I voiced my concern, “Please, don’t inflict any harm upon her.”
Caught off guard by the sharpness of my tone, Sebastian’s demeanor shifted, his expression assuming a guarded stance. The tension thickened as he probed, “Or what?”
Exhaling a silent breath, I clasped his hand in a reassuring grip, modulating my tone to a gentler cadence. The sincerity in my plea was undeniable as I implored, “Or else, you risk alienating her completely. Despite her outward strength, Harper’s upbringing has been as sheltered as mine. Kindness is a language she understands. Please, approach her with compassion.” It was an appeal that acknowledged the contrasts between the brothers, recognizing that benevolence wasn’t a forte Sebastian was known for. Yet, the thread of optimism woven through my connection with Gio urged me to extend the same hope to Sebastian’s potential for transformation with Harper.
A faint smirk played on Sebastian’s lips, his response tinged with characteristic mischief, “Oh, I have no intentions of inflicting harm unless, of course, she harbors a penchant for the unconventional.”
My eyes rolled involuntarily at his response, a testament to my exasperation, yet a renewed concern blossomed as his gaze once again sought out Harper. There was an imperceptible warmth that flickered in his eyes, a contrast to her own steely stare that projected an aversion stronger than mere reluctance. The dissonance between their expressions struck a chord of disquiet within me, leaving me unsettled as I contemplated the foreboding prospect of their impending union.