Chapter 17 – Giovanni
GIOVANNI
S iena’s presence lingers in every corner now.
Her perfume clinging to the air, her favorite blanket tossed across the foot of the bed, her photos nestled between my sleek, impersonal décor.
The penthouse doesn’t feel like an expensive cage anymore.
It feels like somewhere worth coming back to. Somewhere worth fighting for.
She calls from the bathroom, her voice light and carefree, “Giovanni, don’t forget I’m going shopping and having dinner with your mom tonight.”
The sound makes me grin before I even think about it.
My mother and Siena have grown close in a way that fills me with quiet relief.
My mother’s warmth is a counterbalance to my father’s constant storms, and watching Siena find that safe space with family hits me in a place I didn’t even realize was hollow.
She sees how my mother handles this world and it’s helping her. She understands it differently now.
“Did you hear me?”
I lean against the doorframe, watching her in the mirror as she applies her lipstick. Her dark hair spills over her shoulder, catching the light like silk. My chest tightens just looking at her.
“I heard you, sweetheart,” I say, stepping forward.
She catches my eyes in the reflection, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Then why didn’t you answer?”
Instead of replying, I slide my arms around her waist from behind and press a slow kiss to the curve of her neck. She shivers under my lips, and the soft sound she makes wraps itself around my ribs.
“How did I get so lucky?” I murmur against her skin.
Her laughter bubbles up, light and easy. “I think we’re both lucky.”
I rest my chin on her shoulder, taking in the sight of us in the mirror—her steady, certain presence against my rough edges.
For a fleeting second, I allow myself to imagine a future where Sunday dinners and shared closets are all that matter.
Where her father’s ghosts, my father’s demands, and the blood that stains my hands are just distant echoes.
But the real world doesn’t let men like me stay soft for long.
As much as I want to stay wrapped around her all day, reality presses in. I have to go. There are accounts to review, whispers in the back alleys to listen to, and a father who’s waiting for any sign of weakness.
I give her another lingering kiss on the cheek and force myself to step back. “As difficult as it is, I need to head to the casino.”
She turns slightly, searching my eyes. “You’ll be careful?”
“Always,” I promise, even though we both know that’s a lie men in my world tell too easily.
Her fingers trail down my arm, catching my hand for a squeeze that’s both grounding and protective. “Go. I’m here if you need me.”
The thought makes my chest ache in the best way. As I close the door behind me and head for the elevator, the weight of her trust sits heavy on my shoulders. She believes in the man I am with her, not the one I sometimes have to be without her.
And that’s why I can’t let anything steal what we’re building.
Anthony’s neat handwriting fills the weekend logs, every detail accounted for.
The full tables, high-rollers satisfied, debts collected without a hitch.
My lips twitch upward as I scan the numbers.
Atlantic City was exactly what Siena needed this weekend.
A break from the city, from whispers and danger, and yet, even while I was gone, my empire didn’t falter.
Anthony held the line, just like he promised.
I lean back in my leather chair, the scent of expensive bourbon and faint cigar smoke clinging to the office.
The wide grin stretching my face feels foreign, too easy.
I can’t remember the last time I felt this light.
Maybe never. The penthouse, the casino, the chaos of this life, they’re all just noise compared to the quiet Siena brings me.
She doesn’t even know she saved me, but she has.
The click of the office door opening slices through my contentment. The grin dies on my lips as my father steps in, moving with the smooth, calculated grace of a predator. Behind him, Anthony and Vince wait in the hall, the door clicking shut like a cell door.
My brows knit. He doesn’t make small talk. Not ever. The fact that he’s here, alone, already sets me on edge.
“How was your weekend?” he asks casually, but his tone is too measured, too careful.
My defenses flare instantly, sharp and instinctive. He doesn’t give a damn about weekends or about me.
“What’s going on?” My voice is flat, controlled, but there’s an undercurrent of warning.
He strolls to the chair opposite my desk, lowers himself slowly, and pulls a cigar from his breast pocket. The soft click of his lighter sounds loud in the quiet room. I watch as the smoke curls toward the ceiling before he answers.
“You’re distracted, son.”
The words make my shoulders stiffen. I straighten, planting my elbows on the desk, fingers steepled in front of my lips. “In what sense? The casino is doing the best it’s ever done. Debts are paid, and the ones that aren’t…” My tone sharpens. “They’re being handled. How’s that being distracted?”
His expression doesn’t change. It’s blank and unreadable as he leans back, puffing his cigar.
“Long weekend in Atlantic City. Nights off. Leaving early. Handing responsibilities to your men instead of handling them yourself. Doesn’t matter how good the numbers look.
The DeLuca name is yours, and if you look weak, it crumbles. ”
“I’m well aware,” I bite out.
His gaze narrows just slightly. “I don’t think you are. Word on the street is you’re MIA. That you’re distracted and vulnerable. That you’re the weak link. The easy target. And I don’t like easy targets.”
Heat surges under my skin, a flush of fury tightening my jaw. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
He doesn’t flinch. He takes another drag on his cigar, the ember glowing. “Do I? Because for once, son, I agree with them.”
My hands curl into fists against the desk. Disgust twists in my gut, sharper than anger. “There’s nothing to worry about. My head has never been so clear.”
He snuffs out the cigar in the crystal ashtray on my desk, the hiss of extinguished embers loud in the silence. Then he stands, adjusting his jacket like this is just another business transaction.
“Siena is a distraction,” he says smoothly. “And she needs to go. She’s a nice enough girl, but you’re not focused anymore. You’ve had your fun. Now end it.”
The words hit like a punch to the ribs. I’m on my feet before I even realize I’ve moved, the chair scraping harshly against the polished floor. My heart slams against my chest, but he’s already turning for the door, his back to me because he knows I won’t put a bullet in him, not here.
“This son of a bitch,” I mutter under my breath, my pulse a roar in my ears.
The door clicks shut behind him, leaving me staring at the empty space he occupied, my hands trembling with the need to break something.
The idea of giving Siena up doesn’t just anger me, it terrifies me.
Because for the first time in my life, I know what real happiness feels like.
And my father, with all his power and poison, just declared war on it.