Chapter 9
GIANA
I ce pricks at my skin, and at the same time, the flame burns deep. And my stomach turns, pain twisting around my insides like barbed wire.
Caelian’s hurt me before, but this time’s different.
It’s deeper, an almost numbing ache that reaches far beyond tears and sobs of heartache. It’s debilitating and unfamiliar like I’m both stone and shattered glass.
The taste of heartbreak is bitter on my tongue, yet the sharpness keeps me alert.
There is a certain perverse strength in this suffering, a power in pain, waking a determination that’s this simmering, seething thing, and it’s fueling me to get out of this damn house as fast as I can.
“You’re not leaving.” Caelian appears at the door, leaning against the frame as I pack my things.
“I don’t need your permission,” I reply without looking at him.
“Oh, that’s right. Nicoli said you can leave, so now you think you’re free to go? Stop packing.”
I don’t.
“I said,” his hand is on my arm now, “stop packing.”
I twist free from his hold. “Last time I checked the handbook of both marriage and arranged marriages—this century’s editions—I’m your wife, not your prisoner or slave.”
“And as my wife, your place is here. You’re not leaving this house, Giana.”
“Like hell I’m not.” I step back.
Every part of me is aching, like I’m delicate, liable to break, but I will not crumble in front of him. I will not let him see how deeply he’s wounded me.
I heard every vile word from him. The blame he laid at my feet. That blame, I can handle, because my guilt and self-loathing are at an all-time high. But the way Caelian described how little he cared about my brother, the detailed image he painted and not caring, that’s the pill I can’t swallow. The one with thorns and glass that cut and slice the deepest.
“I can handle you blaming me, Caelian. I can live with the fact that you and your family have excluded me, but the fact that you’re willing to let Aurelio hurt my brother,” I swallow hard, tears burning, “to me, that’s unforgivable. Cristiano is innocent. He didn’t choose this family or this world we’re all drowning in.”
“Neither did you.”
“This isn’t about me.”
“Of course, it is. All of this about you, because of you.”
I recoil. “Because of me?”
“Jesus Christ,” he blurts. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. Unless you mean every tragedy that’s happened to your family since I walked into your lives.”
Caelian opens his mouth, then closes it again, his jaw clenching. “I didn’t mean what I said.”
“Yeah, you did. That’s why you’ve avoided me, barely even looking my way.”
“You call last night barely looking at you?”
I frown. “I’m surprised you remember anything about last night.”
“It’s tiny puzzle pieces, but the image is there.”
“Well, lucky me,” I retort. “My husband remembers bits and pieces of almost fucking me after I said no.”
He winces as if I had physically struck him. “I would never…You know I would never hurt you like that.”
“Oh, that’s right. Words are your weapon of choice. Sticks and stones.”
“Fuck!” he blurts, pulling his hands through his hair, frustration rolling off him in toxic waves. “Fine,” he says with forced calm. “I might not remember everything from last night, but I remember what I said.”
“You need to be specific because you said a lot.”
“About you owning me.”
My heart stutters.
“And how much that pisses me off. And that’s why I’ve been avoiding you. Not because I blame you for everything but because I blame what I feel for you for everything that happened. Don’t you get it?” He pins me with a pointed stare. “What I feel for you—in here,” he presses his palms against his chest, “I can’t control it. And not being in control makes me do stupid shit, like wanting to blow Aurelio’s head off in the middle of a goddamn street because he has his fucking hands on you. And the worst part? I knew I was putting everyone in danger by acting recklessly, but I did it anyway because all I cared about was getting you away from him.” His lips curl up at the edges, but it’s no smile. “And what happened? My brother almost died. Mira almost lost the baby. And I buried my mother—all because I can’t goddamn think straight when it comes to you.”
My heart pounds in my chest like a trapped bird, his words hanging in the tense room, heavy and painful, like some grotesque ornament.
It should comfort me knowing he hasn’t been avoiding me because of blame, but rather because he…what? Felt too much? Cared too much?
But it doesn’t.
Somehow, it makes the whole situation even more unbearable. The weight of his confession feels like a millstone around my neck, and I have no idea why. I don’t know why his confession doesn’t make me feel any better. This is all just fucking madness.
His gaze remains trained on mine, filled with a raw intensity that knots my stomach into sick, twisted knots. “I make stupid fucking decisions when it comes to you, New York.”
And with those words, the truth dawns on me. “That’s why you won’t help protect my brother,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “Because you think it’ll be a mistake, one of those reckless mistakes you make because of me.”
There’s a moment when he avoids looking me in the eye, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your father is not the man he pretends to be, Giana.” He finally looks at me. “You can’t trust him.”
“But I should trust you?”
“Yes.”
“How?” I press. “How am I supposed to trust a man willing to let my brother get sliced, diced, flayed, and fileted?”
“You think your father gives a shit about you or your brother?”
“I think he cares more than you do.” I wipe at my eyes and turn my back to him, grabbing more sweaters and shirts from the closet, shoving them in my suitcase.
My blood beats loudly in my ears, my chest tight. There are so many emotions beating at me all at once, there’s no way to tell which one takes preference.
Anger? Fear? Despair? Uncertainty? Relief? I have no idea…all I know is I need to get out of here. I need to breathe.
“Giana, look at me.”
I don’t, zipping up my suitcase.
He grabs my elbow and pulls me close, his fingers biting into my flesh.
His face is now inches from mine, his breath hot, his eyes fierce, and it’s when he crashes his lips against mine that I break.
Tears well up in my eyes, hot and uncontrollable, as his lips melt against mine. It's a desperate kiss, ravaging yet tender in its own way.
His fingers curl around the nape of my neck, pulling me even closer. It feels wrong and right at the same time. I want it to stop, yet never end. I want more, but nothing at all.
His kiss is firm, fervent, and desperate. Undeniably passionate. It’s so many unspoken words. All the time lost. It’s pain, regret, and a glimmer of hope.
My hands find their way to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. I choose both, yet do nothing. Nothing but kiss him back.
A gentle sob licks past my lips as he breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead against mine. “I care more about you than you know. I will gladly take the lives of every single person in this entire fucking city if it means keeping you safe. That’s what you do to me, New York. You make me reckless, dangerous, and mad. And if there’s a choice to be made between you and your brother, I’ll choose you.”
Pain erupts, his truth now my new affliction. I lift my chin, raising my face toward his as I keep his gaze. “Thank God it’s not a choice you need to make, then.”
I jerk free, not taking my eyes off him. Caelian looks completely hungover. Those lines from stress and lack of sleep seem to be grooved in deeper, his inner turmoil spilling over into outer chaos. He needs a shave or a trim, and his hair’s disheveled. No man should look like that and still make my heart beat unbelievably fast.
I let my gaze settle on his. “If I have to pick between you and my brother…I have no choice but to pick him.”
“There’s always a choice.”
“Not when he has no one else, there’s not.”
Caelian’s eyes harden. “Your father is playing you.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m not willing to chance it, calling his bluff.”
There’s a smirk on his face, one filled with resentment, disbelief, and a resigned sort of amusement. “I meant what I said. Your father will gladly eat your brother’s heart straight out of his chest while he devours yours with a goddamn smile if it means saving his own ass.”
It hurts. Probably because there’s a part of me that knows it’s true. “You’re a prick, Caelian.”
“Yeah,” he says, wiping his thumb along his bottom lip. “I might be a prick, and I might say the wrong shit all the damn time, but at least I didn’t auction you off like you’re some sacrificial lamb. Like you’re nothing more than currency your scumbag dad can trade for power.”
I almost laugh. “You say that like it’s something I’m not aware of. I know what I am to my father. I’ve known it for years.”
“Then why are you packing your stuff, wanting to leave with him?”
“Because someone has to protect my brother.”
“And you think you can protect him? You couldn’t even do a half-decent job at running away from home.”
“You really are a special kind of asshole.”
“And your family is the worst,” he snaps. “You, your father, and your brother.” He stops. Rubs his face. Then he meets my eye. “Maybe not you. But you don’t fucking listen, Giana.”
“You know what, Caelian?” I say.
“No,” he mutters, “but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“I love you. I do. And this time it’s not a joke.”
His eyes widen and his hardened features soften. His gaze flickers between my eyes, as if he's searching for hints of dishonesty, but he finds no such thing because I mean it. I mean every word.
I grab my suitcase off the bed and straighten. “I love you. But I don’t want to be married to you anymore.”
The air pulsates with the tension between us, and for a wavering moment, an array of emotions crosses Caelian's face too fast to read.
But then he regains his composure, his eyes hardening once more. I know whatever comes out of his mouth next will hurt, probably knock me on my ass, which is why I walk out before he gets a chance to say anything.
Every breath, every step I take as I walk down the hall, there’s this unimaginable pain that rips through me, tearing at the seams of my heart.
Each pump of blood is a stinging reminder, each blink a blur of sorrowful tears. It hurts to walk away from him. Even as I descend the stairs, there’s still an invisible thread that stretches from me to him, refusing to break.
But I can’t stay.
I have to protect my brother, and Caelian has made it clear my brother is a burden he refuses to carry.
Maybe this is what it means to be part of a family like ours—what it means to be Mafia. Sacrifice. Putting yourself, your heart second. Family above all else.
Nicoli steps up to me as I take the final step. “Are you sure about this? We can’t protect you if you leave.”
My bottom lip quivers. “If I don’t, who protects my brother?”
“Definitely not your coward of a father,” Caelian remarks behind me, and I turn to see him glare at my dad. “He’s too much of a pussy to protect his own flesh and blood.”
“How dare you?” my father lashes back.
“How dare I?” Caelian starts down the stairs. “Are you not a coward, then? Are you not allowing your daughter to leave the protection of this family so she can keep your son safe while you plot your next move in world domination?”
“This is her decision.”
“And that’s a new concept for you, isn’t it? Your daughter making her own decisions.” He takes the step and brushes past me, stopping inches away from my father. “I must say, for a man who pleaded for our help to keep his daughter safe mere months ago, you’re all too accepting of her decision to leave now. Why is that?”
“Maybe I’ve learned from my mistakes.”
Caelian scoffs. “You haven’t. Otherwise, you wouldn’t let my wife leave this house with you today.”
My father steps forward. “With your brother on death’s door?—”
“He’s not,” Caelian responds firmly. “Don’t believe the hype or whatever your best bud Aurelio might say about my brother. It’s not true. Alexius is back shortly, and you better be fucking happy it’s me and my other brothers you’re facing. Not Alexius. I’m reasonable.”
“You?” I interrupt. “Reasonable?”
He turns to face me with a cocky smirk. “I’m very fucking reasonable.”
“No, you’re not.” I glare and fold my arms. “You’re insanely unreasonable.”
“Maybe that’s true. I married you, after all.”
My father straightens, and, behind Caelian, Nicoli mutters, “Time and place, Caelian.”
“And when’s the right time? Alexius would string this shit up by his wrinkled balls if he were here right now.”
“Caelian—”
“Shut up, Isaia. We all know the truth. This man is a snake, and he’s not worth the toilet paper he wipes his ass with. First he used his daughter, now his son. There is no low you can’t reach, is there?”
“Caelian,” I say. “Just stop.”
“See?” He lifts his brows. “You even let your daughter fight your battles for you.” Caelian grabs my father’s coat collar, and I rush over, managing to get myself between them and facing Caelian.
“Get your hands off him. He’s my father.”
“He’s poison, Giana. Maybe I should do the world a favor and drive a knife through his heart.”
With a fierce growl, I violently shove Caelian with all my strength. He doesn’t expect it, and he stumbles back but recovers quickly.
“What is wrong with you?” I grit at Caelian. “He came here asking for help to protect my brother, not himself.”
“That’s what he wants you to believe,” Caelian says, righting his collar. “That’s what snakes do. They show you their belly in submission, but the moment you let your guard down, they strike. And your father… oh, he's a motherfucking viper.”
There’s a sudden shift in the air—it’s heavier, denser, the sense of impending danger palpable.
The three brothers move toward each other—a wall of Del Rossa power. They’re a unit, just like they were at our wedding when they forced me to say, “I do.” Just like they were at the funeral when they buried their mother. And as a family unit, they’ve excluded me…because I’m not one of them. I’m not a Del Rossa.
I see that now.
“Dad?” I say, not taking my eyes off Caelian. “Call Aurelio. Tell him to call off his dogs and to keep his filthy hands off my brother. We’ve got a deal.”
Caelian’s eyes widen, and he moves forward. “What. Deal?”
“A deal that will keep my brother safe.”
“What deal, Giana?”
“Something I should have done in the first place, then all of this could have been avoided.” There’s fear inside me. Uncertainty. A sense of dread and terror colliding into a great, oppressive mass. But my voice doesn't waver as I say, “I’m going to give him what he wants. Me.”