GIO
Contemplating the precariousness of the situation, I retorted with a veiled threat, “Perhaps I should consider clamping an ankle monitor on you as well. Your volatility is akin to a time bomb waiting to detonate.” I couldn’t help but recall that it was my suggestion for him to fit Harper with that tracking device, though evidently, he too required closer supervision.
Dario halted his rummaging through the desk drawers, his input measured. “Even if the Fontanas clan harbors suspicions, they’re unlikely to voice them aloud. Devoid of concrete evidence, they’ll be hesitant to pursue retribution.”
Sebastian’s dissent was clear as he shook his head. “I wouldn’t place my bets on that assurance. But we shall ensure that they are devoid of any opportunity for vengeance.”
Fontana’s head remained impaled by Sebastian’s blade, a macabre spectacle. The prospect of an intruder stumbling upon this scene threatened to morph the festive atmosphere into a gruesome tableau. “You might want to extract your knife from Fontana’s skull. With your weapon lodged in his chin, no one will entertain the notion of suicide,” I suggested, my tone laden with practicality.
With careful precision, Sebastian dislodged the knife, recoiling to avoid any splatter. Meanwhile, Dario unearthed a high-caliber Smith & Wesson from a cupboard drawer behind the desk. “This could serve our purpose,” he remarked.
I nodded, acknowledging Dario’s competence. He was undoubtedly my most reliable soldier the very reason I had entrusted him with Millie’s protection. The thought flitted across my mind that Millie was currently unguarded, a matter that needed rectifying. “Excellent. Sebastian and I will rejoin the festivities. Wait approximately five minutes after that before executing the gunshot. Then, vanish discreetly. With luck, Sebastian and I will depart before anyone notices your absence amidst the ensuing chaos.”
Dario was engrossed in calculating the optimal angle for his shot, barely registering our departure as we exited the room and softly shut the door. At the corridor’s end, the irksome redhead stood sentinel.
“Ensure she doesn’t inadvertently spill any information,” I murmured under my breath. “We’ll address this matter in more detail later.”
“Rest assured, Harper can weave a web of lies when necessary.”
My gaze involuntarily shifted toward Harper. “I harbor no doubt that her capacity for deceit is well-honed. However, she isn’t precisely the epitome of reliability.”
“She’s my wife,” Sebastian growled, his voice a low undercurrent of warning.
“That’s the problem,” I uttered, my words hanging in the air like a heavy sigh, as I distanced myself from the crowd. Millie, her fingers wrapped around a delicate wineglass, her eyes carrying a mix of worry and relief, spotted me amidst the chatter and movement. With a polite excuse, she extricated herself from a conversation with a young woman I couldn’t quite place, and navigated her way towards me through the social labyrinth. As she drew near, I gently clasped her arm, a subtle signal between us, and in response, she shot me an inquisitive glance.
In that bustling gathering, the truth was a fragile secret I couldn’t entrust to the open air. Steering Millie towards the opulent buffet table, I orchestrated our path with a conscious awareness of the eyes that followed. “Gio,” her voice was a hushed murmur, her posture betraying an underlying tension.
I shook my head almost imperceptibly, our unspoken language conveying volumes. Just then, a sharp, reverberating gunshot pierced the air, an unexpected chord in the symphony of celebration. Reacting instinctively, I swiftly withdrew my Beretta, my body pivoting towards the source of the sound. Millie’s form flinched against mine, the raw emotion of fear flashing across her features like a streak of lightning. Leaning down, my lips brushing against her ear, I shared a terse reassurance, “Stay here. It’s nothing, trust me.”
Urgency coursed through my veins as I joined the surge of men rushing towards Fontana’s office, my strides purposeful, even forceful as I navigated the human tide. Sebastian, too, appeared amidst the tumult, his voice a decibel above the chaos, demanding answers. “What’s going on?” his voice reverberated, a demand that hung in the air like an unanswered question.
The office space was now a scene of theatrical despair, Fontana’s wife emitting a high-pitched wail that could have won an award for its poor imitation of genuine grief. Amidst the orchestrated commotion, my mind was a cauldron of calculated actions, each move a chess piece in a grander scheme.
When I later stood before Millie, her eyes etched with concern as they met mine, I silently vowed that she would never witness me in such a state of vulnerability. For I knew that her distress, unlike the staged spectacle earlier, would be achingly real. My existence had always been cloaked in the shadow of mortality, the scent of death a constant companion. Yet, with Millie’s entrance into my world, a new purpose had woven its way into the fabric of my being.
Life continued its intricate dance after the Fontana incident, the aftermath surpassing even my cautiously optimistic expectations. Fontana’s familial landscape, when scrutinized in the aftermath of his demise, revealed more indifference than sorrow. His wife’s grief appeared as genuine as a painted smile, and his son, a spineless creature, proved bereft of the mettle to seize the reins.
However, Fontana’s Christmas gala served merely as an overture to the symphony of Sebastian’s mishaps. A few days prior to Christmas, we found ourselves within the crystalline embrace of a warehouse transformed into a whimsical winter expanse. Snowflakes of falsehood drifted through the air, and an ice-carved bar stood as the epicenter of manufactured merriment. Throughout the evening, Sebastian’s stormy mood was as palpable as the chill in the air, an emotional tempest summoned by the unresolved chords of his entanglement with Harper.
Millie, ever the conciliator, directed a pacifying expression my way. “Let’s salvage the remainder of the evening,” her voice a soothing balm to the tensions that brewed.
With Sebastian and Harper momentarily dispatched, the prospect became a tantalizing reality. “Would you honor me with a dance?” Millie’s request was accompanied by a hopeful, tender gaze. In another setting, I might have silenced her with a kiss, but instead, I nodded, drawing her into my embrace. As we swayed in synchrony to the melodies of the night, she exhaled a small sigh, as if surrendering to the moment’s enchantment.
“Will your sister ever make peace with the notion of being tied to my brother?” I inquired in a low murmur, words escaping like confessions into the space between us.
Millie’s gaze lifted, meeting mine with an intensity that bordered on vulnerability. “I’m not certain. She likes him, I believe, but admitting it is a different battle.”
“Why? Does she find solace in spreading misery?” My words held a touch of jest, a veneer for the genuine curiosity beneath.
A flicker of emotions danced across Millie’s features. Her steps faltered briefly, but my steady presence anchored her. “No, it’s not that. She’s burdened by guilt for embracing Sebastian’s darker facets. She yearns to be virtuous.”
“And what about you?” My words were a whisper, a secret shared only between us.
Millie’s brow furrowed, her hand finding its way up my back until her palm settled over the tattoo adorning my shoulder. “You know that I accept every fragment of your being.”
“I do,” I acknowledged, lowering my voice to an intimate cadence. “But does that acceptance ever stir guilt within you?”
“Feel guilt for loving you? Never,” her response was unequivocal, devoid of hesitation, and in that moment, my chest swelled with a potent blend of tenderness and ardor. “If that labels me as less than virtuous, I’m content to bear that weight.”
“You truly are a remarkable person, Millie,” I whispered fervently, my voice carrying a mixture of admiration and reassurance.
In response, a warm smile graced her lips, a smile that almost made my tough facade waver. “You might be a bit biased, you know,” she playfully retorted.
“I assure you, I’m not. It takes an immense amount of goodness to counterbalance the darkness within me,” I responded earnestly.
She let out a soft huff, but before I could delve deeper into the conversation, the ringing of my phone cut through the moment. “Damn it,” I muttered under my breath. Stepping away from the dance floor, Millie followed, her curiosity evident in her gaze as I checked the caller ID. “Sebastian,” I said, annoyance creeping into my tone. Guiding Millie to a quieter corner of the warehouse, I glanced at the screen.