MILLIE
Gio’s demeanor had undergone a noticeable shift in my presence. It was a tension that lingered, a palpable strain that had emerged ever since he learned of my concealed knowledge about Sienna and Dario. The revelation that I hadn’t divulged this crucial information to him had cast an ominous shadow over our relationship. Adding fuel to the fire was Mathias Ruberti’s unequivocal declaration of war, a direct consequence of the concealed truth. The cloud of impending conflict hung heavily over us, casting a long shadow on Gio’s temperament.
Gone was the warmth that once radiated from him. While he refrained from raising his hand or uttering insults, the warmth in his interactions had been replaced by an unmistakable chill. The nights no longer flowed as effortlessly as before; his pursuit of me remained, his touch still ardent, but an intangible barrier now stood between us. It was an unspoken divide, a wall of unresolved tension that left me at a loss for how to bridge the gap.
It was upon our return to the penthouse after witnessing Sienna and Dario’s union that I mustered the courage to confront the mounting emotional distance. My hand found its way to Gio’s chest, my palm resting over his heart as I peered up into his eyes-eyes that had become guarded, yet in their depths, I saw a flicker of something softer. Words tumbled forth, a confession of regret and longing, a plea for understanding.
“Gio, I know I erred in not revealing the truth about Dario and Sienna. I beg you, do not let anger drive us apart. My heart cannot bear it. I love you, and my intent was only to shield Sienna, not to betray you.”
The sternness in his gaze softened fractionally, allowing a glimmer of vulnerability to surface. His response was measured, a reflection of the intricate web of alliances and conflicts that now surrounded us.
“Amore mio, I am burdened with the duty to safeguard not just our love, but the Famiglia and you as well. The path ahead has grown treacherous with our clash against the Outfit. The Russians stand against us, and the looming threat of the De Fiore in Las Vegas hangs like a storm cloud. If they were to align with the Outfit, we’d find ourselves in a perilous position.”
A shiver ran down my spine at the ominous possibilities. “Could such an alliance truly come to pass?”
“The De Fiore’s power wanes, but circumstances can shift swiftly,” he admitted somberly.
My role within the Famiglia had evolved, drawing me deeper into its affairs. Yet, Gio remained resolute in shielding me from the darkest aspects of our reality.
“Despite the breach of the truce, your men hold steadfast to your leadership. Your strength and capabilities inspire loyalty.”
A dark smile played on his lips. “War is their desire, but the reasons for Mathias’s aggression and my choice to anoint Dario as Captain have met resistance. At present, it’s mostly my uncles fanning the flames of dissent. However, should my other Underbosses align with them, a grim reckoning awaits, one I am loath to embark upon.”
An involuntary shiver coursed through me. “Promise me you will tread cautiously.”
His gaze bore into mine, a mixture of determination and caution. “I will, tesoro.”
~*~
Six weeks had passed since the declaration of war, six weeks of an unsettling quiet emanating from Chicago, from Karsen. The worry had slowly gnawed its way into my thoughts, an insidious presence impossible to ignore. It was an incessant loop, an unrelenting anxiety that seemed to thrive on uncertainty.
In the grand living area of our mansion, adorned with opulent Christmas decorations, I found myself grappling with these thoughts. Sienna and Harper were my companions in this task, but even amidst the festive adornments, my mind was consumed by thoughts of Karsen’s safety. This year, our Christmas plans had veered towards the Hamptons a deliberate choice made by Gio to distance us from New York’s tense atmosphere. The fear of retaliation from Mathias and the Outfit loomed large.
The calendar had just flipped to December, yet I clung to the hope that the cheerful ornaments might uplift our spirits in some small way. As we engaged in the decoration process, Harper’s perceptive eyes caught onto my distracted demeanor. “You’re awfully quiet,” she observed.
A sigh escaped me before I spoke, my words revealing the depth of my unease. “I can’t help but worry about Karsen. With Kaye out of reach, there’s no way to know how he’s holding up.”
Harper’s voice carried a tone of reassurance, though I wondered if even she found solace in her own words. “Kaye assured us that they trust Karsen’s story and won’t harm him. He’ll be fine.”
Doubt lingered despite her conviction. “But that was weeks ago. It pains me to think of him celebrating Christmas alone, especially this year.”
Karsen’s presence was acutely missed, especially on occasions like these. In the past, we could have visited him in Chicago, but this year, separated from us, he would share the holiday with our father and his new wife. Apprehension surged as I contemplated our father’s attitude towards Karsen, one that had never been particularly benevolent. With his new, younger wife by his side, there was a tangible concern that he would further distance himself from Karsen.
Harper’s pragmatic demeanor took over, a reflection perhaps of her time in our world where survival necessitated a certain understanding. “Karsen stands on the brink of entering the Outfit. Celebrating Christmas without us is the least of his worries.”
Her indifference to Karsen’s emotional state bewildered me. “He’s still just a boy. We couldn’t even wish him well on his birthday.” The memory of his thirteenth birthday, a mere few weeks ago, intensified the ache in my heart. Unable to reach out or send a gift, I felt a sense of helplessness that cut deep.
Sienna, silent thus far, carried a burden of guilt that she hadn’t shaken off. The weight of her actions weighed heavily, even in the context of her marriage to Dario. Though their love was evident, she often concealed her happiness, perhaps in the misguided hope that it might mitigate our complex circumstances.
Harper’s head shook slowly, her words measured. “Millie, you need to accept the unchangeable. Stop – and it surprises me to say this – challenging Gio’s orders.”
My eyes widened in disbelief at the irony of her words. “You say that? You fled, and I helped you.”
Harper’s acknowledgment was tempered by her present situation. “I know. But now I’m here, part of the Merante clan. I understand the man Sebastian is. You, on the other hand, seem to forget the essence of Gio.”
Defiance surged through me, my gaze locked onto hers as I demanded clarification. “And what is he?”
Harper’s response was unambiguous, her words cutting through our tensions. “A Capo. A monster. A killer.”
The retort came swift. “So is Sebastian. Yet, you defy him, provoke him.”
She sought to explain the nuance, to differentiate between the power dynamics. “It’s a game between Sebastian and me. But Gio doesn’t play games. He’s the East’s Capo, and your actions endanger his reign. He’ll prioritize power over you.”
A rush of emotions overwhelmed me, bringing forth angry tears. Sienna intervened, seeking to mediate. “Enough, both of you.”
I sidestepped Sienna, closing the physical gap between Harper and me, meeting her gaze unflinchingly.
As the men entered the room, their presence registered but didn’t sway our focus from the storm of emotions that had erupted between Harper and me.