GIO
Mathias acknowledged her apology with a curt nod. The maids arrived at that opportune moment, bearing the evening’s repast. The remainder of dinner transpired without further incident, and Millie and Kayla soon found common ground in a leisurely discussion about the south of Italy. Mathias and I cautiously joined in, forging a fragile detente.
In the midst of this veneer of civility, my pocket stirred with the vibrations of a mobile phone. Retrieving it, I glimpsed Sebastian’s name on the screen. Raising the phone, I excused myself from the table and retreated to the entryway. Mathias’s watchful gaze tracked my departure, his discomfort with my solitary passage through his home evident. Unfounded were his concerns; if nefarious intent lurked, I wouldn’t have left Millie alone at a table with him.
“Sebastian, what is it?”
“I’m concerned about Dario. He’s on the brink. Taking him to Chicago might not have been wise.”
I sighed, grappling with the predicament. “I know. Ensure he doesn’t act rashly.”
“Handling him isn’t exactly my strong suit.”
“I care little for your reservations,” my muttered response held an undercurrent of exasperation. “I’m preoccupied here.”
Ending the call, I yearned to rejoin Millie’s side. The notion of her conversing alone with Mathias and Kayla sent a surge of unease coursing through me.
The sound of movement echoed up the staircase, causing a sudden tension to seize my muscles. I swiftly turned, my senses on high alert, to face the source of the disturbance. My hand instinctively reached for the gun at my side. The air was charged with uncertainty as I stood there, ready to react to whatever danger might reveal itself. A moment of suspense hung in the air before I saw her-a small figure on the second-to-last step of the stairs. It was Patrice, Mathias’s daughter.
My body gradually eased as I recognized her, and I lowered my hand from the gun. Relief washed over me as I took in the sight of the young girl who had unwittingly triggered my defensive stance. She was a fragile presence, a stark contrast to the tension that had gripped me just moments ago.
“Where are Mommy and Daddy?” Patrice’s voice barely rose above a whisper, carrying an innocence that contrasted sharply with the potential danger that had been my initial reaction.
“In the dining room,” I replied softly, not moving from my spot. I held her gaze, my own eyes scanning her small form. I hoped my presence wouldn’t startle her, causing her to break into tears. The last thing I wanted was to engage in a confrontation with Mathias in front of his own child.
The gaze of her bright green eyes traveled over me from head to toe, as if she was assessing me. My heart skipped a beat, fearing that her innocent curiosity might escalate into distress. I mentally braced myself for the possibility.
“Who are you?” Patrice’s voice held an accusing edge, her innocence giving way to a hint of suspicion. Suppressing a chuckle, I managed to keep my expression composed.
“I’m your godmother Millie’s husband,” I responded, allowing a small, reassuring smile to play on my lips.
A grin gradually spread across Patrice’s face, and she took an unsteady step forward. Acting on instinct, I moved without hesitation, encircling her small body with my arm and lifting her gently. To my surprise, she didn’t react with tears as I had anticipated. Instead, she wrapped her arms around my neck, a gesture of trust that caught me off guard.
“Is Millie with Mommy and Daddy?” Patrice’s voice held a blend of hope and curiosity, her innocent inquiry tugging at my heart.
I nodded in affirmation, making an attempt to set her down, but she clung to me. “No!” she protested, her grip firm. “Take me to Millie!”
I glanced down at her, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “Is that an order?” I asked playfully, aware of the delicate balance between keeping her content and not inciting any further unease.
She nodded with determination, her small face a picture of resolve.
With a resigned sigh, I held her securely against me with one arm, my steps leading me back toward the dining room. I couldn’t ignore the possible consequences of this decision, the displeasure it might invoke in Mathias. However, the prospect of a crying child was far less desirable.
As I entered the dining room with Patrice in tow, Mathias rose from his seat, his gaze sharp enough to deter most. Standing my ground, I spoke firmly, “She came down the stairs and wanted me to take her to Millie.”
I understood Mathias’s protective nature, the fierce love he felt for his daughter. It mirrored what I might feel in his position. I was all too aware that our roles could easily be reversed.
Millie began to rise, presumably to come to me, but a subtle shake of Mathias’s head halted her movement. She remained frozen, and the air around us grew tense.
Fury stirred within me, a battle to keep it in check waging within my chest. I gently released Patrice from my hold, allowing her to move toward Millie. She seemed oblivious to the charged atmosphere, her attention solely on the reunion with her mother. Kayla’s touch on Mathias’s arm and Millie’s pleading look to me were not lost on me.
Approaching the table with cautious steps, my wariness of Mathias still present, I could see that the same sentiment was mirrored in his eyes. Millie’s expression held a silent plea, urging me to maintain composure.
“Mathias, perhaps now would be a good time to talk in private,” I proposed in a civil tone, aware of the need for a discussion, regardless of our personal differences.
Mathias’s acknowledgment was sharp, and he stood. Kayla’s brief touch and the warning in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Millie’s gaze conveyed urgency, urging me to exercise restraint.
Together, Mathias and I left the room, stepping into the garden. The chill in the air served to clear my thoughts as we faced each other. “I understand that my presence around your wife and child is not welcomed,” I began, opting for a candid approach. “Likewise, I share the same sentiment about your presence around Millie.”
Mathias inclined his head, his understanding evident. “Though a truce exists, history has shown that accidents can happen.”
His words carried the weight of past betrayals, particularly the broken truce between the Famiglia, the De Fiore, and the Outfit-a gruesome event etched in our collective memory.
“We both uphold honor, Mathias,” I affirmed. “While I may not be in your favor, rest assured your family is safe from me. I do not target the vulnerable.”
Mathias’s lips curved into a measured smile. “And would that hold true if the truce were ever compromised?”
I mirrored his expression, the gravity of his question sinking in. “I could ask you the same-would Millie remain safe if hostilities arose between us?”
No further words were exchanged, the unspoken understanding between us lingering in the air. The undercurrent of tension was palpable. The voices within our respective factions that called for the truce’s end had grown louder, driven by old grudges that time hadn’t erased, only buried.
In that moment, as the cold wind rustled the garden leaves, a quiet acknowledgment passed between us. The future remained uncertain, and the shadows of history cast long, but our conversation had kindled a glimmer of mutual respect-a fragile ember in the midst of smoldering enmity.