GIO
My attention was drawn to Fontana and his wife, their faces adorned with insincere smiles that seemed to conceal ulterior motives. With a subtle nudge, I caught Millie’s attention, and together we approached my Captain. He warmly shook my hand and then took Millie’s, pressing a delicate kiss onto it. As he assisted her in removing her coat, I couldn’t help but notice his fleeting glance towards her chest. My gaze sharpened, prompting him to step back hastily, redirecting his focus towards Sebastian and Harper.
“Shall we?” I beckoned Millie, my fingers grazing the exposed skin of her back as I guided her into the living room. A swift survey of the gathering revealed familiar faces-mostly New York soldiers-but a handful of men from Philadelphia as well, including Renato. As Millie and I approached him, I muttered under my breath, “That’s Renato Carbone.”
“The son of Davide Carbone, the Underboss of Philadelphia,” Millie chimed in, a knowing smile on her lips. “I remember him from our wedding, Gio. My memory serves me well. I’m acquainted with most of the men and women in this room.”
I nodded, occasionally underestimating Millie’s shrewdness, although her academic achievements during her NYU application process had reminded me.
Renato straightened when his gaze landed on me. I extended my hand for a handshake, after which his eyes respectfully moved to Millie. “Meeting you again is an honor.”
“The honor is mine, Renato,” Millie replied, her demeanor elegant as she regarded my soldier. “How’s your wife? I heard she gave birth to your first child recently.”
I had momentarily forgotten about that. Expressing my gratitude, I gave Millie’s hand a gentle squeeze.
“She’s on the mend,” Renato responded, his attention shifting back to me. It was evident that he had business matters to discuss.
Millie, attuned to the unspoken exchange, smiled knowingly. “I’ll go chat with Mrs. Fontana for a bit.” With those words, she turned and departed, affording me a mesmerizing view of her bare back.
Renato cleared his throat, refocusing my attention, and I reluctantly tore my gaze from Millie. “My father’s health isn’t improving. He’s unable to oversee business matters any longer.”
“In our upcoming meeting, I will officially declare you as the new Underboss of Philadelphia.”
Surprise flickered across Renato’s features. “I had considered that you might lean towards one of your cousins to-”
“To what?” I interjected, my tone edged.
Meeting my gaze squarely, Renato explained, “Perhaps to appease your family.”
A sardonic smile curved my lips. “My family will submit to my command for their own good. Loyalty earns my favor; I don’t reward solely based on blood.”
Suddenly, Harper materialized by my side, gripping my forearm urgently. Her unexpected proximity caught me off guard.
“Gio, could you spare a moment?” Her tone was unusually polite, and I was immediately on high alert.
“Excuse me,” I addressed Renato, who nodded and stepped back, allowing Harper and me to exit the living room.
Suspicion tainted my question. “What’s happening?” My wariness towards the red-haired woman ran deep.
“Sebastian requires your assistance,” she whispered, her eyes darting towards a door down the corridor.
“Damn it,” I muttered. “Get back to the party, find Millie and Dario before our absence rouses suspicion.”
She pressed her lips together, an air of disdain apparent. “As if I’d ever entertain the notion of a rendezvous with you.”
“Rest assured, the idea of being intimate with you elicits the same excitement.” With those words, I turned my back on her and headed towards the indicated door.
“Sebastian?” I growled, irritation already gnawing at my nerves, even though I was entirely in the dark about the situation at hand. Whenever Harper and Sebastian were involved, trouble seemed to follow as naturally as a shadow cast by the sun.
Sebastian, with his signature nonchalant air, swung the door open and motioned for me to step inside.
“What’s going on? Harper didn’t give me any details,” I began, my eyes scanning the room until they landed on Fontana. He was seated behind his opulent desk, but something was gruesomely different. Sebastian’s knife was lodged beneath the curve of Fontana’s chin, an artistic yet macabre addition to the scene. The expletive slipped from my lips before I could censor it, “Oh, fuck.”
Sebastian offered a casual shrug, as though he had just stumbled upon a minor inconvenience. “Fontana had a bit of an accident.”
I couldn’t believe the audacity of his calm demeanor. He had eliminated one of my Captains right here, in his own residence, as if my plate wasn’t overflowing with enough complications already. “Damn it, Sebastian, what have you done?”
A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes, a smugness that I wanted to wipe away with a single punch. “Honestly, I think our dear Mr. Fontana chose to take matters into his own hands,” he replied.
I circled Fontana’s lifeless form, my mind grappling with the absurdity of the situation. Rarely did people opt to end their lives by thrusting a knife into their own throat. “This is about Harper, isn’t it? He provoked you, said something that set you off, and you lost control. Just as I predicted. That girl was always bound to bring trouble.”
Truer words had never been spoken. She was a storm wrapped in allure, a volatile concoction that had now detonated right in our midst. Unbelievable.
“That bastard had been on your hit list for a while now. Stirring up chaos,” Sebastian offered, his voice carrying a hint of justification. “You can’t deny you’re relieved he’s out of the picture. We’ve toyed with the idea of removing him countless times. I just decided to expedite the process.”
Of course, Fontana’s demise was a notion I had entertained, but envisioning it unfold within the confines of his home during his ostentatious Christmas gathering was beyond what I had envisioned. I glared at Sebastian, exasperation tightening my voice, “Yes, I wanted him gone, but not like this, not in his own damn home, not at a bloody Christmas party. Sebastian, can’t you exercise a modicum of forethought before leaping into action?”
I could sense his urge to inject a jest, perhaps a quip about the stabbing versus shooting ordeal, but my narrowed gaze curtailed his impulse. My words had struck a chord. “I’ll get in touch with Dario. He’s been watching over Millie and Harper. We’ll need him here to help manage this catastrophe.”
I dialed Dario’s number, the phone barely ringing once before he answered, his voice laced with a hint of expectation, “How bad is it?”
Dario’s keen perception never ceased to amaze me. “Get to Fontana’s office immediately.”
A few minutes later, Dario stormed in, absorbing the scene in an instant. His gaze pinned Sebastian, a silent question hanging between them. “You did this?”
Sebastian’s response carried a hint of mock innocence, “Why am I always the prime suspect?”
“Because you’ve mastered the art of eccentricity,” I muttered under my breath. If anything, his sanity had only deteriorated since marrying Harper. I pivoted toward Dario, my tone weighted with urgency, “Can you make it look like Fontana took his own life?”
Dario’s expression contorted with distaste, his answer dripping with sardonic bitterness, “Not many people choose to stab themselves in the brain.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” Sebastian quipped, a grin playing on his lips. My glare could have cut through steel.
“Sometimes your sense of humor is morbid beyond reason,” I retorted.
Suppressing a chuckle became a formidable task as I observed Sebastian’s audacious demeanor. The man was undeniably unhinged. “Conduct a thorough search of this room for any firearm that might have been employed to blow his damn brains out. I can’t afford the Fontanas breathing down my neck at this moment. I intend for this situation to be resolved discreetly,” I commanded.
Sebastian leaned in, his expression somber. “No matter how we orchestrate the scene, the Fontanas will harbor suspicions. The notion of Fontana willingly succumbing to suicide won’t register with them. He was far too consumed by his own ego to contemplate ending his life.”