MILLIE
The air in the room felt heavy with an unspoken tension as Gio stepped through the door, the darkness of the late hour clinging to his form. It had been six long months since Maria’s birth, and as he began to peel away his clothes, his movements seemed almost disjointed, each action tinged with an underlying unease. I stood there, an observer to his silent turmoil, my gaze following his every motion.
“Gio?” I ventured in a hushed voice, concern knitting my brows, but his response was a subtle shake of the head. With a sigh, he settled beside me, his vulnerability laid bare in the rawness of his nakedness. A potent need smoldered in his eyes, a plea for solace that transcended words. Acting on instinct, I straddled him, our lips meeting in a fervent kiss as his hands charted a restless course across my back, lingering at the curve of my waist before daringly venturing between my legs.
A shiver coursed through me as I maintained my position above him, a cascade of emotions converging within. Yet, amid this intensity, an ache simmered-a desire to be one, to feel him within me. Gently shifting, I descended, the union of our bodies igniting a conflagration of sensation. My palms pressed against his chest, steadying myself as I initiated the rhythmic dance of our bodies. My gaze locked onto his, each fleeting connection a testament to our shared yearning.
In the quiet aftermath, as we lay entwined, the tendrils of his anxiety returned, weaving an intricate web around us. “Gio, please,” I implored, a fervent hope coloring my words, “share with me what burdens your heart.”
A heavy sigh escaped him, as if the weight of the world rested upon his shoulders. “My aunt Rosa reached out to me,” he began, his voice a measured cadence. The name was unfamiliar, drawing a furrowed line between my brows. “Rosa,” I repeated, seeking a point of reference.
His gaze turned inward, retracing the steps of memory. “She was my father’s youngest sister,” he recounted, his tone carrying a hint of resignation, “but she fled with a Camorrista when I was just a boy.”
The revelation caused my eyebrows to ascend, the pieces falling into place. An untold chapter of his past, one marked by betrayal and abandonment. “She lives in Las Vegas now,” he continued, his words punctuated by a sense of detachment, “and her husband’s recent execution by Bianchi exposed a web of betrayal within the De Fiore.”
A sharp inhalation accompanied my realization. “So, she wants to return to New York,” I inferred cautiously, the implications hanging in the air.
A subtle shake of his head conveyed the depth of the intricacies at play. “No,” he responded, a note of weariness tingeing his voice, “but Roman Bianchi is exploiting her to draw me into his machinations, to coerce me into aligning with him.”
I raised myself onto an elbow, concern etched across my features. “You’re considering working with the De Fiore?” I queried, my voice a mixture of surprise and trepidation, recalling his past reservations about Bianchi’s capricious nature.
His expression grew grimmer. “Not as long as Bianchi holds the reins. His rule makes my father seem almost humane,” Gio confessed, a bitter edge to his words. “But I also can’t let him fall into the hands of the Outfit.”
Doubt gnawed at me as I contemplated the complexity of his choices. “Do you think Mathias would entertain a partnership with Bianchi?” I inquired, my voice edged with skepticism.
Gio’s response was a grim shake of the head. “Mathias’s unlikely to place trust in Bianchi,” he mused, his thoughts a tangle of uncertainty and calculation. “And so, I stand at this crossroads, torn between refusing Bianchi and the tangled fate of my aunt.”
The weight of his decision bore down on us, the ramifications stretching far beyond our intimate cocoon. “What will you do, then?” I pressed gently, aware of the far-reaching consequences.
A flicker of resolve ignited within him, a fire that mirrored his determination. “I’ll deny Bianchi,” he affirmed, his voice steady, “no matter the cost. As for my aunt… that’s a puzzle I haven’t quite unraveled yet.”
Gio grimaced, and I could tell he hadn’t told me everything. “She and her daughters will probably be punished.”
I searched his face. “The De Fiore doesn’t spare women in any way.”
“They don’t,” Gio said. “Bianchi will probably have the girls raped. It’s an effective punishment against women.”
I stiffened, couldn’t help it.
Gio stroked my cheek. “I’m stating facts, love. There is a reason why it’s been a strategy in warfare in the past.”
“How old are the girls, your cousins?”
“Nineteen.” Pause. “And fifteen.”
I jerked out of his grip and slipped out from under the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, my heart pounding in my chest. Fifteen. That’s how old I had been when my father had agreed to my engagement with Gio. I had been a girl, and Gio’s cousin was a child too. I swallowed. Someone’s child. The idea that something like that could happen to Maria, it turned my stomach to ice.
Gio sat up and kissed my shoulder before turning my face around to him. His gray eyes searched mine. “Millie, I can’t work with Bianchi. I don’t want anything to do with him. He isn’t sane, not even by our standards.”
“Can you promise me that Maria won’t ever have to fear something like that?” I couldn’t even say the word. Tears burned my eyes.
Gio gripped my arms and pulled me into his lap, his eyes fierce and dark with emotion. “Neither you nor Maria will ever be hurt, Millie. Never. I will do anything to make sure our territory is a safe place. As long as I am Capo, you are protected, and I don’t care if I have to go there and kill him myself, but right now they are weak.”
I nodded. “If there’s a chance of helping your aunt and cousins without working with Bianchi, will you do it?”
Gio considered that. “Maybe. They are women. But that also poses a problem. I don’t like to torture women, so I have no way to question them for their motives.”
GIO
Reluctantly, I found myself facing a meeting that had held little appeal in my thoughts. It was Millie who had persuaded me to extend a helping hand to my aunt and her daughters, and thus, despite my reservations, I had agreed to this rendezvous. There were two underlying motivations guiding my decision, however. Firstly, Millie’s request held weight, urging me to come to the aid of our family members. Yet, there was a more complicated aspect to my involvement. The Enforcer of the De Fiore, a dangerous figure, had reached out to me. In a shocking proposal, he had offered to eliminate Bianchi, a prominent figure in the De Fiore, along with several other high-ranking members of the criminal syndicate. In exchange for this ruthless favor, he had demanded that I provide shelter and protection to these women a request born out of a twisted sense of entitlement, as he now considered my older cousin Sophie his personal reward, a prize exacted from Bianchi’s grasp.
My apprehension toward the Enforcer was palpable, as his motives remained shrouded in darkness. Yet, to my surprise, he had upheld his end of the sinister bargain by carrying out the assassination of Roman Bianchi and orchestrating further eliminations. This unexpected turn of events raised the possibility that the De Fiore’s grip on our lives might finally loosen. Alonzo Bianchi, the elusive figure and the last remaining threat of the Bianchi clan, was still in hiding with his brothers, but the tide seemed to be shifting.
Choosing the location carefully, I had settled on the parking lot adjacent to the Yonkers power plant for this tense encounter. The setting itself seemed to mirror the volatile atmosphere that hung in the air. Sebastian, who shared my sense of unease, cast a wary glance in my direction and vocalized his concerns, his voice laced with foreboding. “I can’t shake this feeling that something’s off,” he confided.
I nodded in solemn agreement just as a car emerged on the approach, breaking the anticipatory silence. The vehicle was occupied by myself, Sebastian, and Dario, with Massimo and two cousins following closely behind in another car. The arriving car halted a few lengths away from us, its engine sputtering to silence. From behind the wheel emerged a lone man, joined by three women who emerged from the backseat. The sight was a stark juxtaposition the apparent apprehension of the women against the arrogance and audacity displayed by the man who remained seated behind the steering wheel, undeterred by the tension of the scene.
“He’s pushing his luck,” Sebastian muttered under his breath, his frustration thinly veiled.
One of the women, youthful with long, dark hair, disembarked from the car and raised her hands in a display of surrender. Shortly after, an older woman and a young girl followed suit, mirroring the gesture. These figures, I understood, were the aunt and cousins I had been summoned to protect. Sebastian’s observation cut through the air like a razor, “That’s our aunt and cousins, no doubt. But the guy in the driver’s seat seems to underestimate the situation. I wonder if he’s thought this through.”
A conviction built within me the man behind the wheel would not remain ensconced in the safety of his vehicle for long. My prediction proved true as I flung open the car door and stood out, weapon in hand, ready to face whatever might unfold. The eldest of the girls, Sophie, regarded me with a mix of fear and disbelief, while her younger sister clung to their mother, seeking shelter in her embrace.
Beside me, both Sebastian and Dario positioned themselves, aligning their intentions with mine. “Let’s approach them,” I directed, my voice carrying the weight of authority.
Sebastian voiced his skepticism in a hushed tone, “Do you truly believe they can be trusted?”
My response was candid, tinged with a healthy dose of caution, “Trust isn’t a luxury we can afford, but they pose no immediate threat.”