GIO
In the intricate web of loyalty and conflict that enveloped us, Millie’s actions had thrust us into an uncomfortable crossroads. While I was convinced of her innocence in the matter of cheating, the bitter reality lingered that she had defied me. She had reached into the coffers of the Famiglia bank, extracting funds without my consent. Her journey to Chicago, a city gripped by the ferocity of war, had concluded with her falling into the clutches of Mathias. His manipulation of her had been a calculated gambit, one designed to unhinge my sanity. In this grim game of power, gender held no sway for we were in the throes of a relentless war.
A mixture of disdain and frustration etched itself onto Harper’s features. Her reproachful gaze was a familiarity I had grown accustomed to over time. “Can’t you see? She’s withering away before our eyes,” she spat, her frustration evident. “Is your pride truly worth sacrificing the one person who still believes you’re more than a deranged murderer?”
The sight of Millie’s diminishing physicality had not escaped me, although I believed her condition hadn’t reached perilous levels. I had consulted the Doc, who had affirmed her health, albeit with the caveat that his assessment had not been recent due to Millie’s avoidance.
“I am a harbinger of death,” I stated, the words escaping my lips with a somber simplicity.
“He speaks the truth,” Sebastian chimed in, nonchalantly lifting his shoulders. Injecting a hint of levity, he continued, “Whether one labels him psychotic or sociopathic is open to discussion.”
Harper’s head shook in evident exasperation before she executed an abrupt about-face, her steps charged with frustration as she stormed away.
With a weary sigh, Sebastian ran his fingers through his unruly hair. “Your turmoil with Millie has rendered my life a living hell as well. Intimacy has become a rarity-no passionate encounters, not even fueled by anger. Harper’s prowess in the realm of angry intimacy is unparalleled, believe me.”
I had little reason to doubt him. Harper was a tempest of unbridled fury, a stark contrast to her sister’s nature. Unlike Millie, who possessed a knack for reconciliation through her gentle words and captivating smile.
Damn it. The image of her smile materialized in my mind, a slow unfurling of lips that transformed into an all-encompassing radiance. It was a smile that could dismantle fortresses. Yet lately, that smile had vanished.
Sebastian’s perceptive gaze rested upon me, a knowing glint within his eyes. “Millie might have initiated this turmoil, but the onus to bring it to an end rests on your shoulders, Gio.”
“I will not apologize,” I affirmed, my resolve unyielding.
His sigh bore the weight of weariness. “Very well, but this oppressive tension that’s strangling all of us-it’s suffocating. It’s not just you and Millie; it’s Harper and Sienna, Dario and me. It’s corrosive and bound to be our undoing. If you’re truly resolved against extending an olive branch to Millie, after accusing her and freezing her out, then consider resolving it definitively. You’ve reshaped the Famiglia in countless ways. Here’s a chance to enact real change-initiate divorce proceedings. You could return to your escapades with New York’s elites, and Millie can pursue her path with someone who values her.”
“No!” I growled, my vehemence palpable. “Millie belongs to me. I’ll slaughter anyone who dares lay a finger on her. Divorce is not an option. Ever. And I don’t desire anyone else…”
“But her,” Sebastian concluded, a wry smile tugging at his lips. He shrugged, resigning himself. “Then prepare for the frost to creep into your veins, because I doubt Millie will take the first step again.”
MILLIE
The morning sun was already streaming through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. I hadn’t experienced much sleep throughout the night, a combination of feeling unwell and being utterly drained. Rolling over, I gazed at the vacant space next to me, the sheets neatly arranged as if waiting for a presence that wasn’t there. My fingers meandered across the soft fabric, a bittersweet reminder of the absence I felt. My sleep had been fitful, often finding me straddling the line between my side of the bed and Gio’s vacant space, as if my subconscious sought his comforting presence. It had been a desolate eight weeks of lonely nights.
With a yawn, I draped a loose silk bathrobe over my growing bump and slipped my feet onto the cool wooden floor. The house was hushed, yet faint echoes of deep voices reached my ears from a distance. Pushing aside my weariness, I followed the sound, my bare feet padding silently against the floorboards.
To my surprise, I found Gio and Sebastian lingering at the breakfast table, a scattering of crumbs on their plates. Their conversation seemed to have taken an intense turn, the remnants of a disagreement evident in their expressions. A third plate, much like theirs, bore witness to Harper’s departure. Her and Gio’s proximity in a confined space was never a recipe for tranquility. Harper was likely seeking refuge in the gym. Sienna and Dario had departed for New York just the day before.
The creak of my entrance drew their attention. I remained wordless, my gaze averted from their inquisitive eyes. My emotional reservoir felt too depleted to engage in any discourse. Suppressing a wave of queasiness, I reached for the thermos that Melanie, our faithful housekeeper, always prepared for me. The fruity aroma of the tea wafted up as I poured it into a delicate cup. I took a cautious sip, my body not yet ready to bear anything substantial this early. Leaning against the table, I avoided sitting; my stomach’s unpredictable behavior kept me on edge, ready to dash to the bathroom at any moment.
Gio’s gaze lingered on me, his eyes tracing the contours of my face, then grazing the delicate lines of my collarbones. He could see the evidence of my deteriorating condition, the sharp prominence of my bones beneath the bathrobe’s camouflage. There was a distinct frailty about me that even the robe couldn’t conceal. Over the past weeks, my weight had further plummeted, and the concern for the well-being of the baby grew within me. But no matter how much I wished otherwise, maintaining food within me had become an arduous task. I took another sip of the tea, my fingers gripping the table’s edge for support. Mornings had evolved into a dreaded ordeal.
Sebastian’s voice, laced with genuine worry, broke the silence. “You should sit down.”
Gio rose from his seat, holding out a basket of pastries, his presence a noticeable but distant presence. “Melanie included your favorite almond biscotti. You need to eat.”
His gray eyes held a rare tenderness, a softness that had been missing for so long. But hope had dwindled to a mere ember within me.
Staring at the spread of baked goods, my stomach churned with unease. I lifted my gaze, locking eyes with Gio whose desperation was palpable. “Millie, please,” he implored. “Please.” The word was almost foreign on his lips, especially in the presence of others, even Sebastian. A surge of nausea clawed at me. With a slow shake of my head, I fought to quell the rising discomfort.
“I can’t,” I managed to utter before turning away and making my way back upstairs. The ascent was deliberate; rushing could easily trigger an unpleasant response. Gio’s absence in my wake brought a strange sort of relief. It made the task ahead slightly less daunting.
In the solitude of the bathroom, I rid my stomach of its meager contents, my body’s rejection an unwelcome ritual. After rinsing my mouth, I cleansed my face with a damp cloth, the dizziness too potent to risk standing beneath the shower’s stream.