Chapter 8
Gio
“Mmm. This is delicious,” Rory purred from the passenger seat after taking a sip of tea from her travel mug.
“Glad you like it.” I kept my eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Added some extra honey.”
What she didn’t know was that her drink was laced with a sedative, and the faster she downed the contents of that cup, the sooner she would pass out. Once she was unconscious, I didn’t expect her to wake up until after we arrived back in Chicago.
God, she was going to be so pissed when she discovered she’d gotten tangled up in my web of lies. But a sick part of me couldn’t wait for Rory to drop the scared girl act and unleash her fury on me. I much preferred my little tigress with her claws out. They scratched so damn good.
Soft snores sounded from beside me. When I looked over, her fingers were loosening around her cup, and I was barely quick enough to grab it before she spilled hot liquid all over her belly.
Fuck. That was close.
I couldn’t help but stare at that bump that seemed to grow larger by the day. Rory was a petite little thing, so she’d begun to show early, but in these last few weeks, the rounded swell became more prominent. It was wild to think that, after all this time, my son was finally on his way.
Rolling down the window as I approached the tiny airstrip just outside of town, I handed my ID to the attendant at the gate. “Private charter for Chicago.”
The man checked his clipboard, nodding. “You’re set for takeoff in forty-five minutes. Parking lot is to the left.”
“Got it.”
“Have a nice flight.”
Oh, I will. A blissfully quiet one before shit hits the fan.
Driving through the gate to the parking area, I brought the car to a stop. To double-check that the sedative had taken full effect, I gave Rory’s shoulder a little nudge. “Ro? Honey, can you hear me?”
Silence.
Perfect.
Hopping out of the driver’s seat, I didn’t bother grabbing our luggage out of the trunk.
That would be abandoned along with the car because we wouldn’t be returning.
Nothing I’d packed couldn’t be replaced, but honestly, I wouldn’t miss any of the items from my “fake” life.
It was a damn miracle I hadn’t developed a rash after months of wearing clothing made of cheap fabric.
One of the many calls I planned to make while in the air would be to my personal shopper to have an entirely new fall and winter wardrobe sent to the Bellini Estate immediately, since nothing currently hanging in my closet would fit my bulked-out frame.
Opening the passenger door, I unbuckled Rory before hefting her into my arms and carrying her across the tarmac to where the private plane sat waiting.
The stewardess who greeted us at the staircase eyed my unconscious companion, her brows drawn together in concern. “Is she all right, sir?”
“Perfectly fine,” I assured her, setting Rory down in the front row of seats. “She’s a nervous flyer, is all. Takes a sedative on the drive to the airport so she’s knocked out from wheels up to wheels down.”
“Ah.” The stewardess nodded in understanding. “If you could do me a favor and make sure she’s buckled during the flight.”
“Of course.”
“I’m Amanda, and I’ll be taking care of you and your . . .” Her words trailed off, expecting me to fill in the blanks on my relationship to Rory, so she didn’t incorrectly presume and hurt her chances of earning a tip.
“Wife,” I supplied.
“Wonderful.” She clasped her hands together, and a genuine smile touched her lips as her gaze dipped to Rory’s midsection. “And you’re expecting a baby?”
“We are. A boy, due in February.”
“Congratulations. I’ve got two little ones myself at home in Chicago, a boy and a girl. Raising kids is beyond challenging, but also the most rewarding thing you’ll ever do in your life.”
“Any pro tips?” I asked.
Her lips twisted to the side as she mulled over which piece of parenting wisdom to bestow upon me.
Eyes widening, she exclaimed, “Oh! Little boys love to pee the moment their diaper is removed. I’ve found the best way to avoid an unwanted golden shower is to use a cold, wet wipe just above their diaper line.
It encourages them to release before you take off the diaper. ”
Laughter burst past my lips. “You know, that’s more useful than the canned advice most people give to sleep when the baby sleeps.”
Amanda’s smile brightened. “Parenthood is messy. Shit literally happens—I’m not kidding, that first blowout will shock the hell out of you, but you won’t bat an eyelash at all the ones that come after that.
And there’s no amount of sleep that will help make you feel like less of a walking zombie for the first year.
I wish someone had been more honest with me about it going in. ”
Politely, I thanked her. She didn’t need to know that we would have around-the-clock help, that there would be no sleepless nights because a nanny would be paid handsomely to handle feedings and diaper changes.
This baby wasn’t about to turn my life upside down.
In fact, I didn’t expect to have much to do with him until he was older, when it was time to start training him to take my place as Don.
Some might argue that a child needed a parent’s love and affection to thrive, but I had been raised without either of those, and I’d turned out just fine.
When it came to raising a future mafia leader, you couldn’t afford to comfort them after bad dreams or make a big deal out of kissing their scraped knees. Those were valuable experiences meant to teach them that pain was a part of life, and that there were indeed monsters lurking in the shadows.
“Can I get you anything to drink before we take off?” Amanda asked.
“Just water. I plan to work for most of the flight.”
She ducked her head. “I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed.”
After securing Rory’s seatbelt, I moved to the back of the plane, dropping onto one of the plush, leather captain’s chairs there. Then I pulled out a cellphone I hadn’t turned on in almost four years to the day and inserted the SIM card. With the press of a button, the screen came to life.
Immediately, I typed out a text.
Initiate the return identification protocol. I’ll be landing in Chicago at 4 PM.
Before setting off on my mission to locate Rory and secure my heir, I had vaguely explained to my capos that I would look like a stranger upon my return.
To set their minds at ease and confirm my identity when the time came, we’d established a verification protocol.
Only once that was completed would they accept me not only as Gio, but as their don.
Enzo: For fuck’s sake, give a guy more than a few hours’ warning.
I rolled my eyes at his dramatic response.
My older cousin had served as my second-in-command since the day I took over as Don.
We’d been raised together in the same household, so we were more like brothers.
Knowing him as well as I did, he was probably annoyed that doing his damn job required him to pull out of whichever supermodel he’d conned into warming his bed today.
Should be more than enough time to meet me on the tarmac.
Enzo: Sure, if I were in Chicago. Which I am not.
Where the fuck are you?
Enzo: I would love to tell you, but unfortunately, there was a security breach while you were gone. We’ve all gotten new phones, but yours is unsecured. Do me a favor and don’t share any sensitive information until I can meet with you in person.
What kind of security breach?
Enzo: What part of I CAN’T TELL YOU don’t you understand?
How soon can you get back to Chicago?
Enzo: I was planning to be gone through the weekend, but since our supreme leader has arisen from the dead, I guess I’ll be cutting my trip short. If you can forgive the absence of a parade in your honor, I might be able to stop by your place this evening.
I forgot how much of a sarcastic little shit you can be sometimes.
Enzo: Don’t be jealous that God broke the mold when he made me.
There’s no question he broke something while making you, but I’m pretty sure it was your brain.
I was bracing for him to clap back, maybe something along the lines of how he hoped that my new face was better than my old one, which was so ugly it’s the reason my mother left—since he loved to walk the line between making me laugh and making me want to shoot him.
But as the engines of the aircraft roared to life, signaling that takeoff was imminent, no response came from my cousin.
There weren’t even those three flashing dots to indicate he was typing.
Strange.
It was just as well. There wasn’t time to waste sparring with him. Not when I only had a little over two hours to prepare to step back into my position as the ruler of Chicago’s underworld.
Damn, I couldn’t fucking wait.
When we landed at the private airstrip in Chicago, there were three blacked-out SUVs waiting for us. My brother leaned against the exterior of the one in the middle, arms crossed. Once the crew disembarked, he shoved off the vehicle and jogged up the staircase to board the jet.
The first thing he saw was Rory’s slumped, pregnant form, and he hissed, “Jesus Christ.” Then his gaze lifted to me, and he did a double-take. “Holy shit. Gio? Is that really you?”
I rose from my seat, closing the distance between us. “Who the fuck else claiming to be me would have the means to charter a private flight and be in possession of my knocked-up wife?”
He cringed. “These days? You’d be surprised.”
Four years was a long time to be away, and between my brother’s behavior and Enzo’s remark about a security breach, it was clear a lot had happened in my absence.
“Sounds like we’ve all been through it since we last saw each other.”
Matteo huffed out a laugh. “Damn, that voice is going to take some getting used to.”
I hummed. “Couldn’t leave anything up to chance.”
“Clearly.”