36 | Jealous of a bodyguard
[A month later]
The night air is warm, the scent of cigars and whiskey hanging heavy in the backyard.
I lean back in my chair, swirling my own drink in my hand, listening as the cicadas hum in the distance.
Across from me, my uncle and the underboss fromChicago, Gabriele lights his cigar, the flame briefly illuminating the sharp, amused look on his face.
Nico, myconsigliere, sits to my right, nursing his whiskey, waiting for an opportunity to throw in one of his reckless remarks.
Gabriele exhales a thick cloud of smoke and smirks. "Come sta tua moglie, Luciano?"
(How's your wife, Luciano?)
I barely glance at him. "Sta bene."
(She's fine.)
Gabriele chuckles, shaking his head like he doesn't believe me.
He takes another slow drag from his cigar before exhaling.
"Se tua moglie non ti soddisfa, trovati un'amante o passa al club.
Le donne sentono la tua mancanza." (If your wife doesn't satisfy you, get a mistress or visit the club. The women miss you.)
Nico lets out a low laugh, exchanging a knowing look with Gabriele. They're both the same, womanizers, incapable of settling down, thinking that loyalty is a weakness.
I place my glass down, my voice calm but firm. "Non prenderò un'amante."
(I will not take a mistress.)
Gabriele raises an eyebrow. Nico, however, is the one who pushes further.
He lifts his glass to his lips, taking a slow sip before speaking. "Questo significa che tua moglie ti soddisfa?" (Does this mean your wife satisfies you?)
Then he smirks, and the fucking bastard asks,"Più della sua sorella maggiore?"
(Even more than her older sister?)
The moment the words leave his mouth, my patience snaps. I fix him with a sharp glare and lean forward, voice low and lethal.
"Fatti i cazzi tuoi, o ti costringerò a sposare una donna che odi."
(Mind your fucking business, or else I'll force you to marry a woman you hate.)
Nico immediately lifts his hands in mock surrender before downing the rest of his whiskey, wisely shutting his mouth.
Gabriele, ever the instigator, sighs dramatically. "Calmati, fratello."
(Calm down, brother.)
He gestures vaguely with his cigar. "Sei diventato così teso da quando hai sposato Aurelia. Non vai al club, non ti diverti più. Sei cambiato."(You've become so tense since you married Aurelia. You don't go to the club, you don't have fun anymore. You've changed.)
I lean back, my fingers tapping against the rim of my glass. Maybe I have changed. Maybe I don't crave the distractions I used to. But what they don't understand is that I don't need them anymore.
I exhale slowly, my tone final. "Voglio concentrarmi sul mio matrimonio e non voglio che nessuno di voi manchi di rispetto a mia moglie."(I want to focus on my marriage, and I don't want any of you disrespecting my wife.)
Nico nods, finally understanding that this isn't up for debate. "Capito."
(Understood.)
Gabriele watches me for a long moment, then gives a small nod as well. He doesn't say anything, but I can tell he's amused by my reaction.
I take a slow sip of my whiskey, letting the warmth burn down my throat.
My gaze drifts away from Gabriele and Nico, across the expanse of my backyard, where the massive swimming pool shimmers under the soft glow of the outdoor lights.
And that's when I see Aurelia.
She stands by the pool, her skin glowing under the dim lights, her curves defined by the red bikini she's wearing. The color clings to her like sin.
I swallow, my grip tightening around my glass as I watch her lift her hands, adjusting the straps of her bikini top.
I've known her since she was fifteen, and I know how weird it fucking sounds butI never knew that one day I would marry her.
Back then, she was nothing more than Chase's little sister, a girl I felt protective over, but nothing beyond that. She was just Aurelia, reckless, sharp-tongued, someone I looked after the way an older brother would.
But she isn't that girl anymore.
She's twenty now. A grown woman. And one of the most beautiful women I've ever laid eyes on.
My jaw tenses as I watch her step toward the edge of the pool, stretching her arms before diving in.
Everything seems fine until I see him.
Franco. Her bodyguard.
He's standing by the pool, watching her.
The moment I lay eyes on him, the feeling inside me turns to something ugly.
Aurelia surfaces, water cascading down her shoulders as she slicks her hair back. She tilts her head up toward Franco, smiling. And the bastard smiles back.
I grip my glass so tightly I almost shatter it.
Gabriele and Nico, too caught up in their conversation, don't notice my sudden silence—at least, not right away. But when I reach for the bottle and pour myself another drink, drowning it down in one go, they finally catch on.
Gabriele leans back in his chair, his sharp eyes narrowing. "Che c'è, fratello?"
(What's wrong, brother?)
I shake my head. "Niente."
(Nothing.)
But my tone is clipped, and they don't believe me for a second.
Gabriele follows my gaze toward the pool, and then he chuckles, shaking his head. "Tua moglie sembra apprezzare la compagnia della sua guardia del corpo."
(Your wife looks like she enjoys her bodyguard's company.)
Nico smirks, leaning forward with interest. "Pensi che lo scoperà prima o poi?"
(Think she'll fuck him sooner or later?)
The words ignite something violent inside me.
"Chiudete quella cazzo di bocca."My voice is low, dangerous. Gabriele and Nico exchange amused glances, but they know better than to push me when I'm like this. (Shut the fuck up.)
"Fuori." I don't raise my voice. I don't have to. The authority in my tone is enough. (Get out.)
Gabriele chuckles but rises to his feet. Nico follows, still smirking like he's enjoying this far too much.
"Buona fortuna, Luciano," Gabriele says, slapping a hand on my shoulder before strolling off. Nico just whistles under his breath before following him inside. (Good luck, Luciano.)
I don't move. I stay seated, gripping my glass, staring at the pool, watching as Aurelia swims, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside me.