Chapter 32 Tommy
Tommy
For Giovanna’s twenty-first birthday, I want to give her something permanent.
Something that says she belongs to me. Jewelry seems right, so I set up an appointment at Luminous & Co.
, her father’s store. It’s the nicest in the city, and she deserves the best.
The place gleams like a temple to money: mahogany cases polished to a mirror shine, glass sparkling under the recessed lighting, the faint scent of orange oil sharp in the air.
But there are more guards than I remember.
Too many. All stationed just far enough apart to look casual, but I can feel their eyes on me.
The saleswoman who greets me is jittery, her smile brittle.
She twists her pen between her fingers and glances nervously at the guards.
“What would you like to see today?”
“It’s my girlfriend’s birthday,” I say, scanning the cases.
“I want to get her something special. Maybe a ring.”
The girl blanches.
“You’re getting her a ring?”
“Why? Is that wrong?”
“An… engagement ring?” She whispers the words like they might detonate between us.
“Maybe.” I shrug.
Her eyes widen, incredulous.
“Have you asked her what kind of ring she wants?”
“Why would I? Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters.” Her voice shakes.
“This isn’t a sweater. Women want to choose their engagement rings.
Maybe you should bring her in. We do custom designs, so she can have literally anything she wants.
”
“I’ll bring her later. For now, I need something I can put on her finger.
”
She blinks. “A placeholder ring?”
“Sure. And one for me, too.”
She fully gapes at me.
“You want…an engagement ring for yourself?”
I clench my jaw.
So many fucking rules that everyone seems to know but me.
“Why? Is that wrong too?”
“It’s not traditional.
Most men wait for wedding bands.”
“I already have a wedding band.” Giovanna keeps mine on a chain around her neck.
The woman stares at me like I’m speaking another language.
“Usually it matches her band and her ring. She might want to choose that, too.”
“Jesus Christ.” I mutter, stabbing a finger at a massive square-cut diamond glittering under the lights.
“That one’s fine. Nothing wrong with that choice, right?
”
“What’s her ring size?” She pulls the ring out and hands it to me.
Not sure what I’m supposed to do with it, I glance at it and hand it back.
“I don’t know. Just wrap this one up.”
“This is a $530,000 ring, sir,” she says flatly, staring at me haughtily.
“We can size it later, but if she doesn’t like it, we don’t do returns.
”
I stare back at her. “Understood.”
“You could choose something… simpler. Something more—”
“Ring it up.” My voice cuts like glass.
I slap my card on the counter. “Now.”
Her lips press tight, clearly unhappy with pretty much every choice I’m making.
She takes the card and the ring and heads to the register, leaving me in the hum of silence.
That’s when I feel a shift.
The air changes, thickens.
Three guards peel away from the walls, their shadows cut across the floor as they fan out behind me.
“Don’t,” I warn, voice low, my reflection in the glass hard-eyed.
They don’t listen.
The first one lunges for my arm.
I twist, drive my elbow back into his ribs, and hear the air rush out of him.
The second swings, but I’m already ducking, already sweeping his legs out from under him.
He crashes against a display case, glass shattering, diamonds raining like broken stars.
An alarm goes off, an ear-splitting, pulsing wail.
That’s when Berto tries to take control.
His head down, glowering at me like a bulldog, he’s sloppy, jittery, and he can’t land a punch to save his ass.
He tries to grab me in a headlock, his breath hot and desperate in my ear.
“You picked the wrong girl, Demonio,” he hisses.
The wrong girl?
I slam my head back into his nose, and it crunches beneath my skull.
He squeals like a stuck pig, blood pouring between his fingers as he releases me and clutches his face.
I spin him into the nearest counter, his head bouncing off the mahogany.
“She’s the only girl,” I growl, pinning him by the throat, “and it’s none of your fucking business.
”
The other two are groaning on the floor, trying to get up.
I drop Berto and straighten, knuckles raw, chest heaving.
My pulse pounds like a fucking drum, but my stance is steady and controlled as I wipe the blood from my knuckles on Berto’s jacket.
The saleswoman has vanished, which I guess is smart, but I need Gi’s ring.
I find it by the register, and I snatch the iconic gold Luminous box, slipping it into my pocket.
The alarm abruptly cuts off, and my phone buzzes in my pocket.
“Tommaso.” Lorenzo’s voice coils through the line, smug and sharp.
“I see you’ve made quite a mess in my store.
”
“You see, huh?” I scan the ceiling until I find a camera and hold the gold box up to it.
“Your sales associate seems to be on a break. Invoice me.”
“Invoice you?” His voice drops into a growl.
“Should I also itemize the broken display case? The damaged jewelry? The medical bills for my men?”
“Your men jumped me.” My tone is calm steel.
“I defended myself. And one of them was Berto. Is Antonio in on this too?”
His voice darkens, every word dripping with hatred.
“You come into my place of business, buy a fucking engagement ring for my daughter, and spill blood on my floor? I told you to end this relationship.”
“I don’t need your blessing.
” My grip tightens around the ring box.
His laugh is dry, humorless.
“Yes, I saw how you treat ‘what’s yours’ on New Year’s Eve.
The whole party was talking about the disgusting spectacle when you humiliated my daughter in the bathroom, the shame you brought on her, treating her like a whore.
”
His voice rises to an almost hysterical crescendo, and I pause.
Does he not know what she means to me?
“I would never demean her, sir. Everything I do—every hour, every deal, every degree I earn—is for her.”
“You could be king of the fucking world and you still wouldn’t be good enough for my daughter.
But you’re not, are you? You’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
It was better when you dressed and behaved like what you are: a murderer and a thug.
”
The words cut like knives, far worse than anything his minions could do.
“I worship her, Lorenzo.” I say, my voice raw.
“I’m never going to stop loving her.”
He’s silent, and for a moment I think that maybe I’ve won him over, maybe he understands that no other man could ever love his daughter more.
His voice drops, deadly soft. “Love her all you want. It won’t matter when I bury you. ”
The line goes dead.