37. ANTONIO
I've never needed much sleep, contrary to Gigi, whom I wake from a deep slumber at one o'clock in the morning. When she hears what I need, though, she is wide awake instantly.
"I'll have it to you in an hour," she promises. Gigi is always excited about spending money; it doesn't even matter if it's for her or someone else, as she's proved before on a similar errand for the very same woman.
"You really like her, don't you?"
Her question catches me off guard, but she's right. I really like Scarlet, so much so that I can see a future with us. A future I've always scoffed at before. A wife? Two point five kids? A family?
I've always wanted it—one day.
It seems that one day is upon me.
"I do," I tell Gigi softly. Scarlet is the one.
She will be my wife and the mother of my children.
I'm not sure how good a dad I'll make, but I'm positive Scarlet will more than make up for me.
I'll try my best, though. It's not like my dad didn't have the same responsibilities as I do, and he still managed to raise Gigi and me, ensuring we knew how much he loved us.
A wave of affection overcomes me for Gigi. "How are you doing?" I see the mask she's about ready to put on and add, "Honestly."
She deflates some. "Honestly? I still miss him like hell." Her eyes fill with tears, making me regret having asked the question. "He was the best dad."
"He was." I agree.
"Remember when he took us to the zoo? It was such a fun day."
It was. Dad had rented the entire zoo for the whole afternoon. It was just him, mom, and us—well, and a plethora of guards. Still, it was one of the best days of my life, and it seems Gigi’s as well.
"He never did anything half-assed," Gigi reminisces.
No, he didn't. For my tenth birthday party, he rented an entire movie theater—not just one room, but the entire theater. For a whole day, my friends and I wandered from one screening room to the other, watching whatever we liked and ordering candy and soda to our heart's content.
He was also hard, though. The day after I turned ten, he took me to the shooting range, and we didn't leave until my hands shook so hard from firing a gun that it became impossible to hit the target.
The next day, he brought me back. And the day after that—every day, until every one of my shots hit the target.
It seemed that my tenth birthday brought on the end of my childhood.
Dad took me more and more into his office, and my training in several martial arts, boxing, and the gun range increased.
He was a relentless taskmaster, but above all, I always knew that he loved me and Gigi.
That's what I want to teach our kids—mine and Scarlet's.
I enjoy making money. I enjoy power. Being the Don of my family is what I was born for. But that family—the one I rule, the one that bleeds for me—is different from my family. Scarlet is mine. She just doesn’t fully understand it yet.
I went to her apartment to collect some things for her.
At least, that’s what I told myself. But when I opened her closet and saw the state of her wardrobe?
Yeah. I’m a fucking snob. Her clothes were okay.
Tasteful. Elegant. But they weren’t good enough.
They weren't the ones I bought for her. And she deserves so much better, especially after what she’s been through.
There was a moment—a very weak fucking moment—where I nearly walked out, leaving the damn contraceptives sitting on her counter.
Get her pregnant. The thought hit hard. My heart and my dick were fully on board with that scheme. It would tie her to me in the most permanent way possible.
I could’ve done it, too. Could’ve thrown those pills in the trash, acted like I was never there. But Scarlet deserves a choice. She deserves to want to stay with me. Not because I protect her. Not because I own the walls that keep her safe.
But because she wants me.
Wants this.
So maybe that makes me a romantic.
Or maybe it just makes me a possessive bastard playing the long game.
She brings out feelings in me I've never experienced before.
I realize we've only known each other for a few days, and those days have been among the most stressful days of her life, but she’s handled them like a champ.
If she can react to what she's been through like this…
she's everything I've ever dreamed of in a woman.
Not to forget last night. When she called me into the changing room… I'm getting hard just thinking about it. She initiated the sex. She seduced me . She isn't the first to seduce me, but she's the first to do it without an ulterior motive.
"I'll make that bastard pay, Gigi. I swear," I promise my sister, whose grief is now written all over her face.
That coward, Carlos, took not only my father from me, but from her as well.
He robbed her of the experience of her father walking her down the aisle one day.
He hurt her. For that alone, he deserves to have his skin peeled off with a potato peeler.
"Just don't get hurt in the process." Gigi's eyes beg me as much as her words.
"Never," I promise, kissing the top of her head and taking her into a hard embrace.
While she does her midnight online shopping, I ready Scarlet's closet. I want her to know that this is where she belongs, that this is her home. That I'm the man who will take care of her for the rest of her life.
A few hours later, I lean back in my car seat while Igio drives me to a meeting with Stephano.
As much as I want to prepare for this meeting, my mind keeps wandering to Scarlet.
I wonder if she's up yet. Has she seen her closet?
I organized all the new things from our shopping trip while I waited for Gigi to come through on her end and deliver the cosmetics I asked for.
Surprisingly, I enjoyed arranging her closet. Imagining her body in the clothes I bought for her satisfies my possessive nature. I want her all mine, from head to toe, and I want the world to know it.
"We're here, boss," Igio announces, ripping me out of my daydream.
Time to put the woman out of your mind and get your head in the game . I take a deep breath and lock my jaw. I'm ready.
“Thank you for coming," Stephano greets me personally at the door of his estate. I notice several security cameras and his not-so-hidden guards by the door.
"I was surprised to hear from you so soon," I say, holding out my hand. He takes it with a firm grip, while his other hand clamps my shoulder in a subtle but deliberate gesture. He wants me to know this meeting is important to him. I acknowledge it with a nod but say nothing.
"Yeah, well, things are happening," he responds, leading me through the grand entryway. "Come. You're not the only guest."
The moment we step into his office, I catch sight of the man standing near the window. My steps falter for a fraction of a second before I stop entirely. "Is this a joke?"
Marcello, Carlos’s son, turns, his expression calm but serious. "Not a joke, I'm afraid."
I stay where I am, my eyes moving between him and Stephano. I don’t like surprises, and this feels like a setup.
"Come, sit," Stephano gestures toward the deep leather chairs near the fireplace. "We're all friends here."
I stay put, leaning casually against the doorframe. "I’ll stand until I know what the hell is going on."
Marcello lets out a short breath and takes a seat, stretching his legs out in front of him. He exudes effortless confidence—a well-earned confidence.
"I don’t blame you," he says. "You and my father have a complicated history."
I don’t respond. That’s a mild way of putting it.
"Look," Marcello continues, his fingers tapping against the armrest, "I had nothing to do with your father’s death, and I’m sorry for it. It would never have happened under my watch."
One of my brows lifts. That's a bold claim. It’s hard to tell if he’s bullshitting me, or if he actually means it.
"You’re skeptical," he acknowledges, nodding to himself. "I get it. But you and I—and Enrico and Stephano—we all want the same thing. We want our family back to where it used to be. A place where we can trust each other instead of killing one another. Edoardo thinks he’s smart, playing us against each other, but all he’s doing is making us weak in the eyes of others. "
I cross my arms, waiting, because he has a point.
"Did you know the Venezuelans made a move on Alan Hendricks?"
My stance shifts slightly. That’s not something I’d heard. The governor is in our pocket, one of our most valuable assets.
Marcello scoffs. "Yeah. And dear old dad is so busy with his trial, he hasn’t done a damn thing to put the bastards back in their place."
"There’s no love lost between Marcello and his father," Stephano adds from the bar, pouring three glasses of whiskey.
I’ve heard rumors about that. Marcello didn’t return from exile because he missed his old man. He came back because he was summoned after Angelo's death. A death I'm not uninvolved in.
"Alright," I say, stepping forward and taking the offered drink. "I’m listening."
With the drink in my hand, I take a seat, noticing that Marcello has relaxed slightly, but there’s still an edge to him.
"Looks like Edoardo has successfully made us all distrust one another," Stephano observes, looking between us.
"Let’s put a stop to it," I say, setting my glass down with a deliberate thud.
Marcello nods. "Let’s."
I hold out my hand, and we shake on it. Marcello leans back. "I’m counting on dear old dad being in jail in a few weeks. Once he’s gone, I will start fixing the mess he’s made."
"No worries on that end. I’ve got it handled," I assure him, unwilling to say more. I might be willing to listen, but I don’t trust them enough to lay out my whole plan.
Marcello lifts his glass in a silent toast. "Good. Once he’s out of the picture, I’ll get Hendricks back in line and the Venezuelans handled."
Stephano clears his throat. "And what about Edoardo?"
I smirk. "The only family supporting him is Enrico’s father… and yours."
Stephano exhales, his mouth tightening. "My father isn’t thrilled about the idea of overthrowing Edoardo. He’s old school. But he’ll support us. I’ll make sure of it."
"So, it’s us against Edoardo," Marcello muses.
Stephano nods. "He still has minor families backing him."
“None of them matter,” I say flatly. Ricci, Cavallo, Romano—they’ve got connections, sure, but they’re not a threat.
The real power sits with us: DeLuna, Sartori, Giordano, Conti, and Orsi.
We’re the ones who decide how this plays out.
The rest will either fall in line… or end up like the Giordanos.
Roberto better pick the right side.
Or he’ll share his father’s fate.
Stephano sips his whiskey, nodding in agreement. "Let’s make sure Carlos goes to jail first."
I lean forward slightly. "We should also check on the Venezuelans. This is the second time they’ve popped up on our radar in a matter of days. That’s not a fucking coincidence."
Marcello and Stephano exchange a look before Stephano shakes his head.
"No. I had a run-in with them about a month ago.
Caught some of their guys poaching on our territory.
Naturally, I took care of it. Next thing I know, Edoardo calls dad into his office and in not so many words told him to tell me to back the fuck off. "
I sit up straighter. That gets my attention. "Back off from defending your fucking territory?"
He finishes his drink, looking darkly into his now-empty glass. A grunt escapes him that sums up his frustration.
"And you listened?"
His eyes flash. "I listened to my father, who told me to inform you."
That’s not an answer. That’s a diplomatic way of saying he wasn’t in a position to argue.
"What exactly did Edoardo say?"
Stephano puts the glass down. "He said the Venezuelans aren’t our problem. That ‘certain business arrangements’ were already in place."
A heavy silence stretches between us before Marcello swears under his breath. He already knows where this is going, just like I do.
I exhale through my nose, and my blood runs cold like it always does when fury threatens to consume me. If Edoardo made a deal with the Venezuelans, that means he’s selling us out. And I just became his biggest fucking problem.
"I'll get on top of it. I have a meeting set up with Matías in a few days," Marcello promises. "If he has any dealings with Edoardo, I'll find out."