Chapter 23
GIOVANNI
When Emmaleen and I break away, we all go back inside. Lorcan stands, smirking at me from across the room.
"What?" I snap. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"It's just…" He smiles, that infuriatingly knowing Irish grin spreading across his face. "Poetry… out of the mouths of brutes."
I glare at him.
"Here's the thing, G—" Lorcan leans against the foyer wall, arms crossed, still looking far too pleased with himself.
"I've known ya for what, seventeen years?
Watched ya catalogue people like spreadsheets.
Seen ya reduce entire negotiations to cost-benefit analysis.
Witnessed ya treat women like quarterly earnings reports with legs. And now—"
He gestures between Emmaleen and me, his grin widening.
"—now yer standin' in my foyer, covered in blood, lookin' like ya went twelve rounds with a cement mixer, and what do ya do? Do ya lead with strategy? Threat assessment? Tactical positioning?"
"Get to the point, ó Fearghail."
"No, G. Ya recite terza rima. Dante's fuckin' rhyme scheme. Three octopus hearts, and ocean veils, and beaks squeezin' through stone walls or whatever poetic shite that was. It's brilliant. Demented, but brilliant."
He laughs—genuinely laughs.
"The lads at Auggies would've lost their collective minds.
Remember that? When Brother Thomas tried to make us memorize Donne for Lent?
Ya spent six weeks arguin' the structural flaws in 'Death Be Not Proud' like ya were peer-reviewin' a dissertation on market inefficiencies. Never once admitted ya liked it."
"I didn't."
"Liar."
I tighten my grip on Emmaleen's waist.
"And yet here ya are," Lorcan continues, still grinning like he's won something. "The man who weaponizes silence, the king of cold calculation—reduced to love sonnets and metaphorical cephalopods. Father Patrick would be delighted."
Emmaleen is smirking now too. "He's not wrong."
Jino breaks up our light moment by stepping forward, his voice sharp and commanding. "How the fuck did you survive walking into Luca LaRiccia's compound?"
I meet his eyes. "I told him the truth."
"Which truth?" Lorcan asks, his tone careful.
"Rico broke into my pool house. Raped my woman. Murdered her." I pause. "That's why he needed to die."
The room goes completely silent.
Emmaleen's body tenses against mine, but I don't look down at her. I keep my gaze locked on Jino, watching him process the implications.
"Emmaleen is dead?" Jino asks slowly, realization dawning.
"Yes."
"No witness."
"Correct."
Jino exhales, his shoulders dropping slightly. "So… she's safe now."
"That was the idea."
The silence that follows is absolute—thick and heavy. Everyone's processing. Everyone's calculating. Everyone's realizing that the entire equation just changed.
And in that stillness, my grip tightens fractionally on Emmaleen's waist.
Because I'm suddenly, acutely aware that she might be doing the same calculation.
That the reason she stayed—the reason she knelt, the reason she submitted, the reason she let me collar her like a possession—wasn't just want.
It was necessity.
She was a living witness to the murder of a Mafia Boss's only heir.
And now… she's a dead witness.
She doesn't need me anymore.
But in this same moment, she leans into my chest. "Thank you, my King."
She doesn't realize it yet, but this is only the beginning—there will be countless chances ahead for her to reconsider, to slip away, to decide this life isn't what she wants after all.
Lorcan pushes off the doorframe, his expression shifting from amused to calculating. "Wait—hold on. Ya walked in there, confessed to killin' his heir, and Luca just... let ya walk out?"
"Essentially."
"Bollocks." Lorcan's eyes narrow. "Luca LaRiccia doesn't let people who murder his son just stroll back to their Lamborghinis. What did ya trade?"
I don't answer immediately.
"Giovanni." Lorcan's voice drops. "What did ya give him?"
I glance down at Emmaleen, then back at Lorcan.
"Something he wanted more than revenge."
Jino crosses his arms. "Which was?"
"A better son."
The words land hard.
Lorcan stares at me. "You're jokin'."
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
"Ya offered yerself? To Luca LaRiccia? As what—his fuckin' heir?"
I meet Lorcan's eyes.
"I told him what we both already knew."
Jino shifts his weight. "Which was?"
"That Rico was a disappointment. A liability. A walking disaster wrapped in cocaine and daddy issues." I pause. "And that Luca deserved better."
Lorcan's expression shifts to something like horror. "Jesus Christ, G."
"I told him he built an empire that required precision, discipline, vision—and Rico had none of it.
That his son was going to destroy everything Luca spent forty years constructing.
I told him the truth. Rico died doing exactly what he always did—acting on impulse, crossing lines, creating messes other people had to clean up. "
"And he just... accepted that?" Jino asks quietly.
"No." I touch the split in my lip. "He put a gun to my head first."
Emmaleen makes a small sound against my chest.
"But then I told him something else. I told Luca that he represents everything I wished my father had been. Ruthless, yes. But competent. Focused. Actually deserving of the empire he controls."
"Giovanni—" Jino starts.
"And that I represent everything he wished Rico had become."
Silence.
"Strategic. Controlled. Worthy of legacy."
Lorcan stares at me like I've just admitted to setting myself on fire.
"How?" Jino's voice cuts through the silence like a blade. "How the fuck could Luca possibly believe you after you murdered his son?"
I meet his eyes.
"Because I made a trade."
"What kind of trade?"
I take a breath.
"I swore to betray Salvatore and the Bavga family.
I will provide Luca intelligence on all Bavga operations—shipping routes, suppliers, distribution networks, law enforcement contacts.
Every piece of leverage Salvatore has built over thirty years.
Every vulnerability. Every secret." I pause.
"I'm giving Luca everything he needs to dismantle my father's empire piece by piece. "
Jino's face goes white, then red. "That's my family too, Giovanni."
"I know."
"Marco. Angelo. Dom. Ricky. Your brothers—"
"I know."
"And you just—what? Handed them over? To Luca LaRiccia?"
"Yes."
Jino lunges forward, but Lorcan catches him by the shoulder.
I step away from Emmaleen, pacing across Lorcan's great room, my hands in my pockets. I thought I made peace with this a long time ago.
I didn't realize until this afternoon, that I hadn't.
"You want to know why?" My voice comes out low. "You want to know why I decided to burn down my own family, Jino?"
Jino glares at me, breathing hard.
"Because they were never my family. Not really."
I touch the gash on my temple, feeling the dried blood crack under my fingers.
"When I was eight years old, Salvatore traded me to Luca like currency.
Handed me over to settle a debt because his sister fucked the wrong man.
They tied me to a post in a warehouse. Beat me.
Starved me. Ten days, Jino. I was eight.
Seventy pounds. By day ten, I was hallucinating, pissing blood, begging for water. "
My voice drops.
"And you know what Salvatore did when I escaped? When I dislocated my own thumb, shot a guard, and ran barefoot through Pittsburgh in February?"
Jino says nothing.
"He beat me. Split my lip. Cracked two ribs. Told me I ruined his negotiation. That I should've stayed put and let them finish whatever deal he'd made."
I laugh—it sounds wrong even to me.
"That was the first time. Not the last. Growing up, every mistake earned a beating.
Every question earned a slap. Every time I tried to be smarter, better, worthy—he reminded me I wasn't. That I was the runt.
The mistake. The son who should've been a daughter so at least I'd have been useful for a marriage alliance.
"So he exiled me. Sent me to Riverview—a backwater nobody wanted—and paid me off with a mansion in the middle of nowhere and a Lamborghini like they were consolation prizes for not mattering.
Gave me the restaurant, the territory, the illusion of power.
" I pause. "But we both know what it really was.
A burial. He wanted me gone. Out of sight. No longer his problem."
Jino's jaw tightens.
"Marco and Angelo have families. Real lives.
Sunday dinners at Mama Bavga's estate aren't a requirement for appearances.
They're real to them. They have Salvatore's approval.
His blessing. His pride." My voice turns bitter.
"I got exile. I got isolation. I got reminded every single day that I don't belong. "
I step closer to Jino.
"So yes. I handed them over. Because they were never mine to protect. If it's not something you can live with, you have every right to walk out tonight." Then I look at Emmaleen and give her the same option. "Same goes for you, Emmaleen."
She looks aghast. Points to herself. "Why would I walk out? I'm not walking out. I'm walking in!" She's smiling now, but she won't be in a couple more minutes.
I put up a finger. "Hold that thought." Then I look at Lorcan. He's pale now. I suck in a breath, then nod. "Yeah," I answer his unspoken question. "I did."
"Did what?" Jino asks.
"It's time, Lorcan," I tell my best friend.
"Time for what?" Jino demands.
I ignore Jino now, focused only on Lorcan. "I made a new blood oath with Luca."
"I told Luca about the girl," I say quietly.
Lorcan's face drains of all color.
"I confessed. Told him I took full responsibility." I meet Lorcan's eyes. "I gave him the exact coordinates. GPS. Everything he needs to find her."
Jino looks between us, confused. "What girl? What the fuck are you talking about?"
I don't break eye contact with Lorcan.