93

GIO
I stole a lingering glance at Millie, her back turned to me, a delicate vulnerability in her nakedness. Every contour of her flawless porcelain skin, once reserved solely for my touch, lay bare. The reddened imprints on her shoulder blades and buttocks told a tale of our recent fervent encounter against the cold bathroom tiles.
Angry passion had surged within me, a facet of our relationship I had never envisioned with Millie. Regret gnawed at me; a part of me despised my own actions and the pain I had inflicted. Even though she downplayed it, the fact remained-I had hurt her. I was her protector, her shield, yet in that moment, I had become the assailant. But Millie hadn’t fled; she stood her ground, unflinching. My realization was stark: she was unwaveringly mine, bound to me until the very end.
With a heavy sigh, I averted my gaze, leaving the scene behind as I departed the room. Downstairs, my fingers retrieved my phone from my pocket; a swift call to contacts at the airport was imperative. Time was of the essence. News of Harper’s departure would spread like wildfire, and I needed to ensure it didn’t spiral beyond my control. My extended family eyed my position with covetous glances-uncles and my aunts’ husbands vying for the coveted title of Capo. Even Amadeo, to my face, had voiced his aspirations. A fragile truce held as they bickered amongst themselves, but I couldn’t rely on that fragile peace. Their ambition might well coalesce, and I needed my loyal men to counter any potential uprising. Vulnerability was not an option.
Sebastian’s accusatory glare met mine as I emerged. His voice, a blade edged with frustration, sliced through the air, “Did you glean anything from her?”
I shot back a scowl, my patience with my brother waning thin. The show of disrespect needed to cease, especially in the presence of others. “All I know is Harper departed from JFK. Millie’s lips remain sealed, but our informants will soon unveil Harper’s destination.”
“Perfect,” he muttered, eyes flicking toward the bedroom door before fixing on me. Something in his expression unsettled me. “And then? Millie holds the map to Harper’s intentions. Their secrets were shared. To trace Harper, we must involve your wife.”
Dario and Gabriele observed our exchange, the weight of their eyes intensifying the tension. My steps brought me inches from Sebastian, our gazes locked, his words probing my resolve. “Millie won’t disclose a thing.”
Stubbornness sparked within him, his attempt to pass by thwarted as I pressed close. “She’s mine to protect,” I growled, the ferocity of my promise lacing each word. Brother or not, if he dared touch Millie, even inadvertently, his fate was sealed.
Sebastian’s voice dripped with acrimony as he retreated to the terrace. It was for the best. Our tempers on the verge of conflagration would have led to something more destructive.
Addressing my men, I ordered Gabriele to depart, granting him a reprieve from the clash. Then turning to Dario, I issued directives, “Call Rea. Uncover Harper’s destination.” His brisk nod signaled compliance, and he headed toward the kitchen, phone in hand.
With a resigned sigh, my phone met my ear, dread pooling in my gut. The task ahead was onerous, an inevitable reckoning. Pearce’s voice resonated, laced with suspicion, “Gio, unexpected call from you.”
Dread settled deeper as I disclosed the disheartening truth, “Harper’s vanished.”
A stifling silence stretched on the other end before his response simmered through the line, laden with anger, “Vanished? You pledged to safeguard her. I placed trust in your word. In Chicago, a Capo’s word holds weight.”
My retort emerged, a veneer of civility barely masking my frustration, “Guarding your daughter isn’t a straightforward task, as you’re well aware. This isn’t the first instance of her defiance.”
“And Millie? Did she aid her sister?”
Details were best withheld, the revelation of Millie’s involvement a conflagration I aimed to avoid. “No, she was oblivious. Sebastian is on Harper’s trail. She won’t evade us for long.”
“Two of my men will accompany him. I don’t trust you to resolve this alone.”
The conversation hung heavily in the air as I ended the call, the weight of my failures a burden too familiar. My world teetered on precarious ground, alliances strained, trust eroded. I was Capo, but the intricate tapestry of my life was unraveling, and I had to navigate its fraying threads with strategic precision.
Suppressing the urge to unleash a scathing remark, I clenched my teeth to restrain myself from insulting him outright. The fragile balance between the Outfit and the Famiglia hinged on maintaining peace. “I understand your concerns,” I began, my tone measured and diplomatic, “but I can assure you that Sebastian is unwavering in his determination to locate her. He’s hell-bent on marrying her.”
“Still?” The skepticism in his voice was palpable. “She might be indulging in debauchery as we speak.”
I harbored doubts that Harper would be engaging in casual encounters during her flight; her focus was more likely on evading us. Of course, later on, she might take a different route, but that was hardly my concern.
Abruptly, Dario materialized within my line of sight, his voice a low murmur. “Amsterdam. Schiphol.”
“We’re aware she boarded a plane to Amsterdam. That’s where Sebastian will be headed on the next available flight.”
“I’ll make sure my men are deployed to that location as soon as possible. Mathias won’t be pleased. This situation requires thorough discussion.”
Mathias’s feelings were of no consequence to me. My foremost concern was New York, and the integrity of the Famiglia. “Certainly.” I ended the call, stifling the impulse to hurl my phone against the wall. Instead, I employed it to secure a seat for Sebastian on the upcoming flight. This was the most inopportune moment to lose my most capable soldier, all due to Harper and her sister Millie. A surge of blinding rage threatened to overwhelm me, but I forced myself to maintain composure. After all, I was the Capo.
Exiting the room, I halted beside Sebastian, who stood braced against the banister, his expression resolute. He would track down Harper; it was only a matter of time. “I contacted Pearce. Predictably, he’s furious and pointing fingers at us.”
“Expected,” he murmured, his gaze elsewhere.
“He’s dispatching two of his men to apprehend Harper.”
He remained unresponsive, still perturbed by my decision to spare Millie. As if he would have subjected Harper to torture for information. We were killers, perhaps even sadistic, but never towards the women we held dear.
“I intend to accompany them,” he declared.
“I presumed as much. I conveyed the same to Pearce. You’ll rendezvous with them in Amsterdam.”
That caught his attention. He straightened, turning to face me. “Amsterdam?”
I nodded. “I received intel that she boarded a plane to Schiphol.”
“When do I depart?” His focus had sharpened into that of a hunter.
“In four hours.”
“I need to leave sooner.”
“Regrettably, that’s not feasible. I exhausted all possibilities.”
“Damn it. By the time I get there, Harper could be miles away.”
“You’ll find her. You’re the most accomplished tracker I know. She doesn’t stand a chance.”
His hand touched my shoulder. “You’re allowing me to leave, even though you require me here.”
The Famiglia needed him; I needed him more. The Bratva posed challenges, and my treacherous family breathed down my neck. “You’re not much help to me if your mind’s fixated on Harper.” Even my faith in Sebastian had its limits. He needn’t be privy to the extent of my reliance on his support.
“It could take weeks,” he acknowledged. “I won’t return until I’ve captured her.”
“I’m aware. If Millie had fled, I’d do the same.” I’d pursue her to the ends of the earth. Marriage hadn’t been my preference, but Millie had transformed everything. She was my wife, and I’d never relinquish her.
He offered a nod.
“I’ll coordinate the delivery of firearms to you in Amsterdam. I’ll see if Dante can be located; his family in the Netherlands could assist. Pack what you need. You should be at the airport within two hours.”
“You ought to convince Dante to embrace a damn cellphone. He’s stuck in the 1970s.”
“He’s nearly seventy. I doubt anything could persuade him to adopt a cellphone. I’ll visit the Marco. He’s likely having dinner there. I’ll return before you must depart.” With that, I reentered the premises. In passing, I instructed Dario, “I’ll be gone a few hours. Ensure Millie remains in the apartment.”
“Understood, Boss,” he affirmed as I stepped into the elevator. Dario wouldn’t let anyone drug him.