Chapter 4
GIOVANNI
As I navigate a well-known curve adjacent to Ospedale San Giorgio’s, I grip the steering wheel firmly enough to whiten my knuckles.
The route, road, and bleak white building are identical sentinels.
I’ve driven this journey so often over the past month that it’s become a ritual. I could do it blindfolded.
Each day I convince myself that today will be different, that I’ll see Valentina’s molten locks reflecting the morning light, and her curves moving through the crowd with that quiet confidence I can’t forget. But every day, disappointment waits for me at the curb.
The footpaths outside San Giorgio’s and the warehouse where Councilor Messina died remain lackluster and bland. The entrance doors of San Giorgio’s slide open and shut thousands of times a day, but never for Valentina.
My frustration has grown over the past month, and the silence has exacerbated it. I’ve exhausted every resource to find Valentina. I contacted hospitals nationwide, bribed county clerks for records, and leaned on favors worth far more than a raid on every Raimondi property in the area.
Nothing I’ve done has worked.
It’s as if she vanished from the face of the earth after exiting my SUV. I’d believe our meeting was a dream that dissolves when I wake if news of the truck driver’s murder weren’t still circulating the streets of Carlisle.
For an entire month—thirty fucking days—I’ve chased shadows. I should let it go. Every morning when I wake up, I tell myself to do precisely that. Let it go, Vanni. Focus on what matters. Family first.
What I say doesn’t matter. I dedicate several hours a day to my search.
My father’s empire, which was rebuilt after a second internal mafia war nearly destroyed the Cosa Nostra, demands constant vigilance.
Deals in the billions, shipments, and rivals who’d give anything to catch me unawares all require attention.
There’s no time for distractions, yet I keep driving the same streets, unable to break the cycle of my obsession.
I stiffen my grip on the wheel when the city’s skyline appears ahead. Horns blare, and Carlisle residents continue unaffected by my internal conflict.
I saved her.
Me.
That should mean something. You don’t pull someone back from the brink of death and then walk away like it never happened.
That morning plays in my mind a minimum of three times a day.
Even after a month, I can still recall the softness of Valentina’s curves and the way her breath hitched when her terrified eyes finally found mine.
It isn’t solely her fear that keeps my search alight. Beneath sparks hot enough to scald and an attraction that made me rock hard, a previously unventured, yet worth fighting for, challenge awakened within me.
I’m fucking clueless why the hook sank in so deeply this time. Valentina is a stranger. I have a name, a face, and a moment frozen in time. That’s all I have. But it’s enough to keep me stalking the streets at all hours, even while knowing I should let it go.
I have too many unanswered questions and only one person capable of answering them.
Was Valentina’s ashen face that day a result of lingering fear? Or was her visit to the hospital as personal as it gets?
San Giorgio’s is a leader in oncology care, but it can’t give its patients the world-renowned treatment only money can buy. It’s limited in how it can help by the same bureaucratic nonsense my family has strived to remove from these shores for three decades.
As I turn down the boulevard leading to the docks, my focus transitions from personal endeavors to business. Work calls. It always calls. The chain of command expects results, and I deliver them. That’s who I am. Giovanni Caruso doesn’t falter on a promise or lose focus.
At least, that’s what I want my competitors to believe.
If they knew how many hours I’ve wasted chasing a ghost, they’d question everything. They may even try to use it against me.
Good luck with that. I play nice when it benefits me, but if push comes to shove, I won’t hesitate to knife those in the back who have done me wrong.
My phone buzzes in the console of my SUV before it lights up the dashboard. It’s a call from Nico, another brother and my somewhat right-hand man.
I jab the speaker button. “Talk to me.”
“Shipment cleared customs.” His gruff tone does little to hide his boredom. “We’re good for tonight.”
“Any trouble?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle. Though I’m surprised you missed out. You’re usually always there with bells on for the beatdowns.” His scarred brow being scratched sounds down the line before he asks, “Did you get stuck in traffic again?”
“I’m pulling in now.” Not wanting to out myself as a chump driving aimlessly through the city, hunting for someone who may not want to be found, I keep my reply short. “Should I pop the trunk, or are you dumping this one overboard after gifting him a pair of concrete boots?”
“Matteo’s got it covered.” Nico pauses. It’s a telltale sign he’s about to see straight through the bullshit I’m presenting to him. “Are you okay, Vanni? You seem distracted.”
“I’m fine.” My words snap out moodier than intended, and it doubles the length of Nico’s silence this time around.
“Right,” he finally says. “See you soon.”
When the call clicks dead, I exhale slowly and unclench my jaw. Nico isn’t stupid. He knows something’s off. I’ve been distracted, and in our world, that can get you killed.
I need to bury this manic obsession before I make a mistake I can’t fix.
Family first.
Always.
Sitting in my car, however, peering out at the city my family has controlled for over fifty years, I know it’s easier said than done.
Hours later, the deal is done. A billion dollars in yearly revenue will keep the Caruso name gilded for another generation.
I should feel triumphant, but the truth is, I’m restless.
My satisfaction tonight is hollow since it’s drowned out by a frustration that refuses to loosen its grip on my senses.
By midnight, I’m behind the wheel again. City lights bleed into a starless sky as I prowl Carlisle’s empty streets. I should go home so I can sleep and reset for tomorrow’s battles. Instead, I steer my car toward San Giorgio’s again, forever a sucker for punishment.
It’s madness. My obsession with Valentina is borderline possessive, but I’m unable to stop. Not until I see her… or better yet, bury the person keeping her hidden.
The streets are quieter now. Shadows pool in every corner, so I slow down to scan the faces of the patients and late-night visitors outside the ER.
A couple smokes near the entrance, and a nurse hurries to her car as though the injured man limping toward the hospital’s emergency entrance might miraculously recover and chase her for her knockoff purse, but there’s no sign of Valentina.
As if I’ve not already reached the limit of insanity, I park across the street with my engine idling and watch the city liveliness slowly taper into a vacuum of nothingness.
Eventually, I kill the motor and lean back to stare up at the glass structure that pierces dark, stormy clouds.
What the fuck am I doing? This isn’t me. I don’t wait or yearn. I take what I want when I want it. That’s the code I live by. So why am I acting like a man who’s never had his dick sucked?
I’m saved from an internal interrogation when my phone buzzes. It’s probably Nico checking in, so I ignore it. I’m not in the mood to talk business. All I want is answers.
All I want is her.
Angered by thoughts that will get me lynched, I whack the steering wheel firm enough to fear the airbags will disengage before I fire up the ignition and speed out of the hospital’s parking lot like my life depends on it.
I need to get her out of my fucking head, and I know the perfect place to achieve that.
Several miles later, the lights of Carlisle brighten as the entertainment district stretches ahead. Tourists and locals spill from bars and music halls, chasing the thrill sometimes only a seedy nightclub can offer.
Laughter tangled with bass lines carries through the air in a silent promise that anything is possible before sunrise, yet I move through the disorder with a completely different purpose.
I study every face, seeking that one in a million.
This wasn’t the plan when I left San Giorgio’s. I was meant to go home, get shitfaced with my brothers, and pretend the world doesn’t exist.
A burning tide of anger crashes into me. My lifestyle has no patience for weakness. My father raised me on that truth, and I’ve enforced it myself more times than I care to admit. In our world, the second you let your guard slip, someone is behind you with a knife and a smile.
And yet here I am, losing focus over a woman I barely spoke five words to.
I’d stop the insanity if I could, but obsession is an incurable addiction. There’s no quick-fix solution—except another hit.
The irritation prickling my skin eases as I visualize the reward of my hard work.
Valentina’s body will be the perfect canvas to rectify the injustices I’ve faced.
I’ll take my time with her, savoring every luscious curve while reminding her how she can’t outrun her consequences any easier than she can outrun me.
Halfway down the neon-lit tide, my phone rings again. Not wanting to have my ass chewed out for being a lovesick chump, I jab the call button before telling Nico that business will have to wait until the morning.
“I’m fucking wrecked.”
“Glad someone’s finally admitting it,” replies a voice I immediately recognize. It doesn’t belong to Nico.
Although grateful Dante has finally reached out, something is off with his tone. “Camille…”
“Is tucked up in bed.” His tone is nothing like it usually is when speaking about his daughter. It’s urgent and brimming with angst. “You need to come home. Now. Dad’s taken a bad turn.”
His last sentence smacks into me, landing like a punch to the gut, and I forget everything not associated with the founder of my very existence. The deals. The frustration. Valentina. None of them matter right now.
“I’m on my way.”
I slam my foot down on the gas pedal, and the SUV’s engine roars as I tear through Carlisle faster than I ever have before.