GIO
Seven months had elapsed since the last significant event. Within this span of time, a subtle shift had taken place. It was a quiet afternoon, the kind that held the promise of a cool autumn approaching. Seated in my office at the Sphere, I found myself absorbed in the digital correspondence before me.
“The Outfit appears to have escalated their production of LSD and ecstasy,” I observed in a contemplative tone, my finger indicating the relevant details in the email Khris had dispatched. These illicit substances were infiltrating our well-defined territory, and I couldn’t shake off the feeling that this occurrence was anything but accidental. Around me, my trusted comrades, Dario and Sebastian, stood nodding in agreement, their gazes fixed on the contents of my laptop screen.
Amidst this tense atmosphere, the ringing of a phone disrupted the silence. The sound drew my attention to the corner of the room, where Millie was engrossed in her studies. The transition from attending a physical college to pursuing online accounting courses had become necessary due to the escalating conflicts involving the Bratva and the bothersome motorcycle clubs that had made conventional education hazardous.
Millie answered her mobile device, her complexion shifting from its customary hue to an ashen white. Sensing the gravity of the call, I rose from my seat, an unspoken understanding passing between us. “We’ll make our way to you as soon as we can, Sienna,” I assured her. The mention of Millie’s sister lent an air of solemnity to the room. Dario, standing by my side, tensed noticeably at the mention of Millie’s sister. I shot him a discerning glance before moving toward Millie, who sat immobilized on the couch. Kneeling in front of her, I met her tear-filled eyes.
“Your mother?” I ventured, having a sense of the truth. Eleina Pearce had been grappling with the ravages of cancer for several months, her condition worsening day by day.
“She’s fading away,” Millie managed to articulate, her voice trembling as she fought to regain her composure.
“We’ll arrange to fly over immediately,” I promised, my attention then shifting to Dario. “Prepare everything. You’re accompanying us. While I watch over Millie, you’ll ensure Harper’s safety.”
Sebastian raised an eyebrow inquisitively, his expression reflecting curiosity mixed with concern.
“You need to remain here to manage our affairs. We’re both aware that encountering Pearce would lead to irreversible consequences,” I added, my tone measured. The tension between Harper and her father was palpable, a storm that threatened to erupt at any moment. I couldn’t ignore the volatile energy that surged between them, and I suspected that Pearce’s violent tendencies wouldn’t remain dormant in such an environment. Yet, my attention was divided. As I focused on consoling Millie, my senses were attuned to Dario’s interactions with Sienna, observing the intensity he concealed behind his guarded facade. In the days that followed, his presence alongside Sienna, like a steadfast guardian, was unwavering. It persisted through the somber countdown to her mother’s inevitable passing and even extended to the mournful atmosphere of the funeral. With Millie’s grief demanding my attention, I couldn’t have foreseen the trajectory that Dario’s unspoken sentiments were about to take.
MILLIE
During that fateful summer in New York, Sienna, my sister, sought refuge with us after the tragic loss of our mother. Her presence was a comforting balm amidst the storm of grief, especially as her initial air of desolation gradually gave way to a renewed vitality. It was as though she had rekindled the vivacious spirit I had always associated with her. Little did I realize that this transformation was intricately tied to a secret romance that was blossoming beneath the surface.
It became increasingly evident to me that someone was the source of Sienna’s revived demeanor, though I had chosen to disregard the signs, hoping against reason that my suspicions were unfounded. The truth, however, had a way of emerging from the shadows, and it finally confronted me head-on during a tranquil holiday in our opulent Hamptons mansion.
On a sunlit day when Gio, my husband, and I were making our way to a cozy bistro nearby, a call abruptly summoned him away due to a pressing issue involving the Bratva. Urgent matters often took precedence in his life, leaving me with the prospect of a solitary lunch. This prompted me to return to the mansion and extend an invitation to Sienna, thinking it might be a pleasant way to spend the afternoon together.
As I entered the spacious living area, words caught in my throat and my heart clenched at the sight that greeted me. There, upon the couch, was Dario, a member of our inner circle, positioned atop Sienna in an intimate embrace. His hand had ventured beneath her shirt, a sight that sent shockwaves through me. His reaction to being discovered was swift-retreating in embarrassment, his arms instinctively shielding his modesty. But my eyes had already captured the telltale sign of his arousal.
My initial impulse was to recoil, my mind grappling to process the unthinkable scene before me. Swiftly, I closed the door, a wave of gratitude washing over me that Gio was not present to bear witness to this shocking tableau.
Sienna, with a flurry of movements, attempted to restore some semblance of composure. Her hair, disheveled, was tamed with futile efforts, and her lips bore evidence of a passion interrupted. Her words came forth in a rush, an attempt to extinguish the flames of misunderstanding before they could consume everything. “This isn’t what it appears to be,” she insisted.
My skepticism was palpable as my gaze shifted from her to Dario. His guilt was etched across his features, as it should have been. Anger surged within me, directed primarily at him. “This is precisely why I was wary of leaving you two alone, Dario. I foresaw this outcome!” I seethed, the weight of my unheeded concerns flooding to the surface.
Sienna’s voice, tinged with defensiveness, interjected, attempting to share the blame. But in that moment, my attention remained resolutely on Dario. He was a grown man, cognizant of the consequences of his actions. For him, another dalliance might hold minimal consequences, but for Sienna, the implications were dire. Caught with a man before marriage, her reputation and future were in peril. Dario knew this, and yet he had chosen to ignore it.
“Why did you return here anyway? Shouldn’t you be enjoying lunch with Gio?” Sienna’s words sliced through the tension, revealing an astounding level of nonchalance in the face of the situation. Did she not comprehend the gravity of her predicament? Did she fail to recognize the quagmire into which I had unwittingly stumbled?
Her apparent disregard for the severity of the circumstances left me incredulous. The weight of the situation pressed heavily upon me-a weight amplified by the fact that I had been the one to discover them entangled in their secret liaison. “Blame me? Gio received a call about trouble at one of the clubs-an issue with a Bratva underboss. He dropped me off at the mansion and rushed straight to New York,” I retorted, struggling to contain my frustration. Sienna remained oblivious to the tumult within me, to the perilous brink upon which she stood.
Dario’s voice, laced with a mix of caution and guilt, intruded upon the conversation. “If you were to tell Gio…” His sentence hung in the air, unspoken implications weighing heavily upon the room. He was fully aware of the repercussions that awaited him should our formidable leader, Gio, discover the extent of his transgression.
“I won’t inform him,” I snapped, the words laced with an edge of anger and pain. “I am acutely aware of the choices he would have to make, should he come to know.”
Dario extended a helping hand to Sienna, aiding her to her feet. Their shared look communicated a depth of connection that cut to my core. It was a connection that, as circumstances dictated, could not be sustained. His gaze met mine, and for a fleeting moment, it was as though a silent understanding passed between us. “He is your husband, after all. The truth is owed to him,” his words bore a heavy truth that reverberated within me.
An internal conflict churned within me. Dario’s statement was undeniably valid-yet, he was equally aware of the complexities that would unfurl should I divulge the truth to Gio. The burden of his decision-whether to expose Dario or to shield him from the repercussions-would be mine to bear, a responsibility I was reluctant to impose upon my husband. Gio’s already burdened shoulders carried the weight of family and the Bratva; I was reticent to further encumber him with this additional dilemma.
Even as I issued a stern caution to both of them, imploring them to sever their connection, I was aware of the futility of my plea. The tendrils of their affection had taken root, and the depth of their bond was not so easily broken. Yet, despite my despair, a fragile hope still lingered-an irrational belief that perhaps, against all odds, circumstances would realign, and this tangled web would miraculously unravel.