Giovanni
GIOVANNI
I ’m not easily shaken, but when a man who’s practically a legend in our circles shows up at Willow Bridge, I can’t help the chill that runs down my spine.
Dmitri Mikhailov isn’t the type to make appearances unless something serious is brewing. That’s not something I can ignore.
The man could crush half of the world’s economy with a single phone call, and he’s on his fucking way to see me. He’s here about Chiara, that much is obvious. But why come himself? Why not send one of his lackeys or even Nikolai to do the dirty work?
I’m waiting in the private lounge we keep for the Five Crowns, my mind racing as I try to figure out what the hell he’s going to say. Dmitri’s always been a figure I respected—hell, everyone respects him.
He’s one of the few who managed to keep his empire intact without becoming a complete monster in the process. But he’s also ruthless, and when it comes to his family, there’s no line he won’t cross.
The door opens, and Dmitri steps in, his presence commanding the room like he was born to rule. He has the kind of aura that makes people stand up a little straighter, watch their words a little closer.
I follow his movements, waiting for him to speak. The man is a legend, and the last thing I want is to be caught off guard. He doesn’t waste time with pleasantries, just nods at me before taking a seat.
I stay standing, unsure if this is a conversation where I’m supposed to be on my feet.
“Mr. Mikhailov,” I say, straightening my posture, knowing I should address him with the same respect I would my own father.
Not that the two men are comparable. Dmitri is as ruthless as they come, but there’s a calculation in his eyes that commands respect, even from someone like me.
“I didn’t think I’d have to make this trip, ,” he begins, his voice as cold and precise as a scalpel. He gestures for me to sit. “But you’ve left me no choice.”
I clench my jaw, already knowing where this is heading. I’ve been waiting for something like this, but the fact that Dmitri himself is delivering the message means it’s worse than I thought.
What the fuck did my father tell him?
I sat down in the chair opposite him. “You’re here because of Chiara.”
“Yes.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he fixes me with a stare that could cut glass. “I’ve heard about the … situation between you and her.”
“I’m not letting her go, if that’s what you’re here to suggest. My father already tried to threaten me,” I say, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me. “She chose to be with me.”
Dmitri’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t seem surprised by my response. “I’m not here to convince you to end things, . I’m here to give you advice—and a warning.”
I feel a flicker of relief at his words, but it’s quickly snuffed out by the gravity in his tone. Dmitri isn’t a man who wastes words, and if he’s offering advice, it’s because the stakes are higher than I realized.
I keep my face neutral, though the thought of him issuing me a warning makes my blood boil. “What kind of warning?”
Dmitri leans closer, spreading his legs as he looks me up and down.
“Chiara is under my protection; she’s my wife’s only child. What you do with her reflects directly on me, on my family. If you mishandle this … situation, you’ll not only be dealing with your own father but with me as well. And I assure you, I’m far less forgiving than Vito.”
I feel my pulse quicken, but I don’t let it show. “I respect that, sir. But Chiara made her choice, and I won’t be the one to tell her she can’t have what she wants.”
His expression doesn’t change, but there’s a shift in the air, like the temperature’s dropped several degrees.
“That’s where you’re wrong, . What Chiara wants is irrelevant if it threatens everything I’ve built.”
I know where he’s coming from, even if I don’t like it. Chiara is a liability, one that could be used by anyone looking to take down the Mikhailov empire or my father’s. But that doesn’t change how I feel, and I won’t let anyone dictate what happens between Chiara and me, not even Dmitri Mikhailov.
I nod slowly, understanding the weight of what he’s saying. “I get it?—”
“No, I don’t think you fully understand,” Dmitri says, his voice sharpening. “My son may trust you with her, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the world will. There are people —dangerous people— who would love nothing more than to use Chiara as a pawn to get to you, or worse, to destroy you both.”
“I can protect her,” I say, my voice firm.
Dmitri leans back in his chair, studying me with an unreadable expression. “Can you? Protection isn’t just about keeping her safe from physical harm. It’s about understanding the politics, the alliances, the enemies you’ve made just by being who you are. Are you prepared for this, ? Are you prepared to have a living, breathing weakness that can be exploited?”
I don’t hesitate. “I am.”
He nods, as if he expected that answer, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, maybe. Or maybe it’s just that he knows the game better than I do, and he sees the pitfalls that I haven’t yet encountered.
“There’s only one way to truly protect her,” Dmitri says after a long pause, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “And that’s to make her as untouchable as your last name.”
His words hang in the air between us, and I know exactly what he means. But the idea of it, the weight of what he’s suggesting, makes my stomach twist.
An arranged marriage. It’s the only way to ensure that Chiara is safe from the vultures circling around us. If she’s my wife, it solidifies her position and makes it clear to everyone that she’s off-limits.
But how the fuck? We’ve only been together for a week, and now proposing marriage? She’s going to think I’m fucking insane.
I won’t lie, I’ve thought about the possibility of marrying Chiara to secure her place, but I never thought it would come to this so soon. I’m not ready for it, not by a long shot.
“You’re not ready,” Dmitri says, as if reading my thoughts. “ Readiness is irrelevant when it comes to survival. You know that.”
I grit my teeth, hating that he’s right. It’s one thing to claim Chiara, to protect her, but marriage? That’s a whole different level of commitment, one that comes with its own set of complications.
“I don’t think she’ll go along with this,” I admit, the words bitter on my tongue .
Dmitri’s gaze sharpens. “Then you better figure out how to change her mind before that choice gets taken away.”
The warning is clear, and I know it’s not just a threat. Dmitri’s the kind of man who doesn’t make idle promises. If he says he’ll do something, he’ll damn well do it.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, though the thought alone makes my head spin.
Dmitri nods, seemingly satisfied with my answer for now. But there’s still something in his eyes, a coldness that makes me feel like I’m standing on thin ice.
“Don’t take too long, ,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “The world doesn’t wait for you to be ready. If you care about Chiara, you’ll do what needs to be done. And if you don’t … I will.”
With that, Dmitri turns and walks toward the door, his presence still suffocating even as he leaves the room. I stand there, watching him go, feeling like the ground beneath my feet is shifting, like everything I thought I had under control is slipping through my fingers.
When the door clicks shut behind him, I let out a breath and pinch the bridge of my nose. His warning hangs heavy in the air, and I can’t shake the feeling that no matter what I choose, I’m fucked.