97

MILLIE
Gio and I had managed to restore a semblance of our old rapport. Yet, amidst the renewed ease, there were moments tainted by tension, like when Gio received updates from Sebastian about his ongoing pursuit. Those instances of unease cast a fleeting shadow over our interactions, lasting no more than a few hours. Uncertainty lingered within me-was Gio aware of my ability to monitor Harper’s progress through the travel blog she had set up? Perhaps he suspected that I held some knowledge, but he had relinquished his pursuit of prying information from me.
One crisp morning, I inhaled deeply, relishing the invigorating chill in the air. Central Park wore a tranquil demeanor on this early Sunday, except for the dedicated joggers who braved December’s cold for their runs. Back in summer, Gio and I had been among those joggers, but during winter’s grip, I preferred the controlled environment of a treadmill. Nonetheless, our dedication to early mornings persisted; we cherished our walks together.
Gloved hands intertwined, Gio’s grip tightened on mine, drawing my gaze to his. “Care to share your thoughts?” he whispered, his voice a gentle caress.
A smile curved my lips as I halted our steps. “I was just thinking about how wonderful it is that we both appreciate these early hours, having Central Park almost exclusively to ourselves.” Time was a scarce commodity for Gio lately. With Sebastian absent, he bore the weight of his responsibilities alone. My moments with him were confined to the early mornings and late evenings, but it was the mornings that allowed us to truly converse. Nights were reserved for a different form of intimacy, as the weight of the day left Gio craving closeness. And in a way, it was my doing-Sebastian’s absence extended because I hadn’t divulged Harper’s whereabouts.
Gio’s laughter carried a warmth that beckoned desires. “It’s quite the transformation, isn’t it? From partying into the wee hours to rising this early.”
The luster of my smile dimmed. “Does it bother you? You used to be the city’s most eligible bachelor, and now…” My voice trailed off, the unsaid words heavy in the air.
Drawing me nearer, Gio’s voice held a hint of a chuckle as he leaned down, his breath a comforting heat against my skin. “I spent countless nights out, chasing and wandering because nothing tethered me home. But now, with you, no matter where I am or what I do, the thought of you waiting is my anchor.”
His words ignited a warmth within me, though a gnawing concern lingered. I dared to voice my apprehension in a whisper. “And other women? You used to have a different companion every weekend, and now there’s just me.” I had noticed the lingering glances cast by female joggers, the unabashed gazes from women at social events. Gio’s charisma was a magnet, drawing them in; he exuded power, a sinewy embodiment of allure.
Gio shook his head, his resolve unwavering. “Why would I need anyone else, Millie? There’s no desire for another.”
My fingers curled against the nape of his neck, pulling him closer until our lips brushed. “I love you, Gio.” In those moments, his gray eyes softened, a sight reserved solely for me. The vulnerability he displayed was a treasure I alone possessed. Though Gio had been the first and only man to claim my body, I was privileged to hold a unique piece of him-the gentleness, the tenderness. It was mine alone.
A disruptive buzz severed our connection.
With a sigh, Gio’s patience seemed to wane. “Who could it be now?”
Reaching into his coat, he retrieved his phone and glanced at the screen. The expression that crossed his face was enough to signal the gravity of the message.
I felt frozen in place. “Gio?”
He looked up, his gaze meeting mine. “It’s Sebastian’s text.”
My heart clenched, and I swallowed hard. “And?”
“We found her.”
A rush of breath left me, mingling with the frosty air. “Harper?” It was a rhetorical question, a plea for affirmation in the face of the impossible.
Gio’s nod carried with it a weight of relief, though he shielded it behind a facade of restraint, aware of my presence. It was clear that his relief stemmed from Sebastian’s imminent return to New York. Finally, after six arduous months spent in relentless pursuit, Sebastian was on his way back, bringing an end to his relentless hunt for my sister. Six months had slipped by, during which Harper had been living her dream, whatever that dream had entailed.
Everything I had put on the line for Harper-Gio’s trust, the very bonds of my marriage-had all felt justified. Yet, as it turned out, my sacrifices were in vain. Sebastian had succeeded in capturing her, imprisoning her in the clutches of his world. One might have expected me to be crushed by despair, but oddly, the opposite was true. Like Gio, an unspoken sense of relief settled within me, for Harper was returning home, to New York. The prospect of reuniting with her stirred selfish gladness, despite the understanding that her desires pointed elsewhere. She yearned to escape the suffocating grasp of the mob life, a stark contrast to my own affinity for seeking solace within its shadows. Our approaches to dealing with this dark underbelly had always been divergent-her pursuit of freedom, my quest for a niche where safety and belonging coexisted. I had found mine, and I harbored a silent hope that Harper would forge her own path of contentment.
Yet, as joy flickered, so did concern. Worries surged forth, questions clamoring for attention. What fate awaited her now? Where were they holding her? Was she safe?
Responding to my inner turmoil, Gio’s hand tenderly met my chilled cheek. The stark contrast between the winter cold and the warmth of his palm was a soothing paradox. His words, gentle and reassuring, sought to allay my concerns. Harper, he promised, would emerge unscathed from this ordeal. He offered to contact Sebastian, a gesture that I silently welcomed. The urge to seize the phone and make the call myself tugged at me, yet reservations lingered from our prior encounter. Uncertainty clouded the propriety of such an action. The months of Sebastian’s absence had granted me reprieve, though a part of me wished that Gio didn’t shoulder the burdens alone.
Dialing Sebastian’s number, Gio’s patience waned as the phone’s ring yielded no response, stoking a fresh surge of unease within me. Panic edged into my thoughts-why wasn’t he answering? Could he possibly harm Harper? After all, she was innocent, merely chasing her aspirations of liberation from this life we were entrenched in. A wave of desperation bubbled forth, imploring Gio for answers, for reassurances that Sebastian would not subject Harper to harm, that he would guide her back to New York.
In a gesture of comfort, Gio encircled my waist, pulling me close, his hand cradling my neck. His embrace offered warmth not just against the chill but against the uncertainty gnawing at my heart. Yet, he remained silent in response to my plea, and with that silence, my heart sank. In the absence of words, anxiety flourished. Seeking refuge from this torrent of emotions, Gio’s proposal to return home seemed inviting. The inevitability of a journey to Chicago loomed, a visit necessitated by the circumstances. Harper’s presence had intertwined our lives with the currents of the Outfit, a reality that couldn’t be evaded.
An attempt to reach Sebastian persisted during our journey, each ring reverberating with hope, only to be met by the void of unanswered calls. Gio’s growing worry mirrored my own, a shared unease that sought relief. The phone’s ring was eventually succeeded by Gio’s somber voice, a call from my father. The tension etched onto Gio’s features deepened as he listened, revealing the conversation’s weight. Plans for a trip to Chicago were confirmed, not just a matter pertaining to the Outfit, but one entangled in personal connections. Harper, it appeared, was still Sebastian’s betrothed, albeit a bond tenuous in its grip.