MILLIE
Harper checked her reflection in the mirror, a war of emotions playing across her features. She had avoided spending time with Sebastian due to lingering resentment, choosing to stand by my side instead while he and Gio were away in New York.
Summoning all the strength I could muster, I straightened my posture. This pregnancy was turning me into a bundle of raw nerves.
Harper’s grip on my hand was unyielding. “Let’s go, Millie. We’re here for you. That’s an unbreakable bond. They have their Famiglia and their sworn oaths, but we’re sisters-bound by blood. We’ll stand by your side no matter what comes our way.”
Sienna’s fingers intertwined with mine, her smile a portrait of unwavering determination. Her touch brought a sense of reassurance, a lifeline in the tempest of emotions that raged within me. “If his presence becomes unbearable, then let’s simply leave,” she declared softly, her voice a balm to my troubled heart. “We can retreat to the kitchen, share a meal in our own company.”
I struggled to contain the tears that welled up, threatening to spill over. Harper, my steadfast sister, took charge with a commanding tone. “Don’t let him see your tears,” she instructed, her gaze unwavering. “Don’t grant him the satisfaction of believing his presence has that power over you.”
Yet, deep within, I knew that my heart was a puppet in his hands, dancing to the strings of an emotion I couldn’t control. I fought the impulse to clasp my belly, a poignant reminder of a love that once bloomed, now lost.
Swallowing hard, I mustered the strength to nod in agreement. “Yes, let’s go.”
With synchronized steps, we departed the room, traversing the corridor that led us to the grand staircase. The sound of his voice reverberated through the air, a haunting echo that threatened to freeze my very steps. Only the unyielding grip of my sisters propelled me forward, their support the anchor that held me steady. Harper’s hold on my hand became almost painful as we descended the staircase, each step bringing us closer to the source of my turmoil.
As we crossed the threshold into the dining room, my gaze was irresistibly drawn to Gio. He stood tall, a stoic figure flanked by Sebastian and Dario. His demeanor appeared unchanged, as though the tumultuous three weeks that had passed had left no mark upon him. Could he truly move forward so effortlessly? Could he flick off his emotions as one would extinguish a flame?
Sienna’s touch tightened around my hand, a silent reassurance, while Harper’s posture stiffened at my side. Her words, a fervent whisper, reached my ears. “Damn him, Millie. Damn them all.”
I was resolute in my determination to heed her advice, to forge a path that liberated me from the chains of heartache. Yet, in that moment, as Gio’s gaze turned toward me, my world crumbled. Hope, however fragile, had persisted within me during these agonizing weeks. Sometimes I had tried to convince myself that life could go on without Gio, that I possessed the strength to survive his absence. Other times, a glimmer of hope emerged, suggesting that he might come to his senses, that the love we once shared could reignite.
But now, as his steely gray eyes met mine, devoid of the warmth that once defined our connection, both strands of hope disintegrated into nothingness. His gaze was clinical, detached-an unsettling scrutiny that reduced my existence to mere observation. In that heart-wrenching instant, the truth became painfully clear. The hopes I clung to were futile, the love I cradled was a relic of the past.
GIO
“Will you ruin this Christmas for all of us?” Sebastian’s voice carried a mix of desperation and disbelief, his eyes pleading for some assurance that his efforts hadn’t been in vain. It was a facade I had maintained over the past few weeks, a facade that even Harper, with her icy demeanor, couldn’t penetrate. The rift between them had grown cavernous an abyss neither seemed willing to cross.
I responded with an exasperated roll of my eyes. “You can relax, Sebastian. Millie might be my wife on paper, but that’s as far as it goes.” The emotional blockade I had erected since that day had held steadfast, and I had no intention of dismantling it now. In these past few weeks, emotions had become expendable, insignificant in comparison to the larger scheme unfurling before me. The plan to dismantle Mathias’s empire, the Outfit, loomed in my thoughts, casting a long shadow over every action I took.
A flicker of movement near the entrance diverted my attention. Millie, ethereal as ever with her cascading blonde hair and graceful poise, stood flanked by her sisters. Despite myself, my gaze lingered on her worn features, on the shadows that underscored her eyes and the subtle frailty of her frame. Guilt attempted to surge within me, but I crushed it ruthlessly. There was no room for guilt when it was her betrayal that had set this sequence of events in motion.
Sebastian’s muttered words snapped me from my reverie. “Only on paper, huh? Sure doesn’t look that way.”
I tore my eyes away from Millie, forcing my emotions into check. With a deliberate stride, I made my way to the dining table, assuming my usual seat. Sebastian’s gaze followed me, a mixture of concern and apprehension etched on his features. His hovering was wearing my patience thin a fact I vowed to communicate to him if he persisted.
After a pregnant pause, Millie eased herself into the seat beside me. Her presence flooded my senses with the floral scent that had always been her signature. But I held back, avoiding any physical contact. Across from me, Harper’s eyes bore into me, a cauldron of animosity. I returned her gaze, a potent manifestation of my authority the Capo asserting his dominance.
As Dario and Sienna joined the tableau, Melanie arrived with our meals, her lips forming a disapproving line. Her silence was testament to her disapproval of my choices, but I brushed it off. The meal proceeded in silence, each forkful of food taken in quiet contemplation. Millie’s plate remained nearly untouched, and her wine sat undisturbed. The tremble in her hands as she held her fork was unmistakable.
But I was resolute; I would not let her manipulate me into surrendering to guilt.
MILLIE
Right after our dinner, a heaviness settled within me, an urgency to escape the crowded room. The meal seemed to weigh on my stomach, and I excused myself, almost stumbling as I made my way to one of the elegant guest bathrooms. The cool, marbled interior offered a temporary solace as I bent over the toilet, my body succumbing to the unease that had been building inside me.
In the midst of my vulnerability, Dario, always a steadfast presence, slipped into the bathroom a few minutes later. I was still knelt on the floor, arms resting wearily on the closed toilet lid, my cheek finding a precarious perch on top of them.
Dario’s voice, soft and comforting, found its way to my ears. “Tell him, Millie.”
The turmoil within me felt almost tangible. “He’ll think I’m using the pregnancy to manipulate him into returning to me. I won’t stoop to that level. I want him to come back because he loves me, Dario.” Emotion caught in my throat, and my eyes stung with unshed tears.
Dario’s gaze held mine, a silent exchange that spoke volumes. There was no reassurance this time, no promise that Gio would come around. He straightened himself, his hand extending towards me. I allowed his support to lift me to my feet, the rush of the faucet drowning out the turmoil in my mind as I washed my hands and rinsed my mouth.
With newfound resolve, I left the sanctuary of the bathroom and returned to the shared living and dining area. However, all that greeted me were Sienna and Harper, huddled together on the sofa.
“They went to the lounge for some Scotch,” Harper muttered, a hint of frustration in her voice.
I nodded softly in response, my weariness urging me to linger in the living room, as if my presence alone could summon Gio to my side. But as time passed, the hope that he would join us dwindled, and eventually, I admitted defeat and retreated to our bedroom. My body sank into the sheets, exhaustion mixing with the ache in my chest.
It’s hard to pinpoint when exactly I heard the faint creak of the door, the sound cutting through the heaviness in the room. I turned, and there he was, Gio, tall and enigmatic. A rush of hope surged within me, momentarily overshadowing my fatigue.
“Gio?” I whispered, the single syllable pregnant with longing.
He remained silent, and I reached for the bedside lamp, casting a soft glow on his form. He was rifling through the drawers, extracting a pair of sweatpants before he made to leave.
A desperate ache colored my voice. “Aren’t you going to stay?”
His shoulders stiffened under his shirt, a tension that seemed to stretch between us. He didn’t face me, his words dripping with a harsh edge. “No. But I can use you if that’s what you want?”
I inhaled sharply, my breath catching in my throat. “Don’t do this.”
With that, he turned and left, leaving me alone with my trembling fingers to switch off the light. The room plunged into darkness, and the silence that followed was heavy with unsaid words.
It wasn’t until breakfast the next morning that his voice pierced the silence between us once again, a declaration that we were to attend Senator Black’s Wilbur party as a couple. And just as swiftly as he had come back into my life, Gio returned to New York, leaving behind a tangle of emotions and unanswered questions.