22. Giovanni
TWENTY-TWO
GIOVANNI
I t’d been over a week since our wedding, and we’d fallen into a routine. I’d made an appointment for Lia to see Dr. Freud as soon as we arrive in Boston.
But until then, we had some sort of routine going.
We’d eat breakfast together, then spend half the day in the office where she’d handle her business with José via phone, while I handled mine. Her associate had been scouring the earth ever since I brought her on my boat, and when on the phone with Lia, he’d try tracking it. Luckily my privately invented software did an excellent job of making it impossible to pin her location.
We usually spent afternoons practicing her swimming. However, today it rained so I surprised her with an origami instruction book. There wasn’t anything Lia couldn’t do. Just as she excelled at swimming, she quickly picked up the paper-folding techniques. I, on the other hand, struggled, my hands too big and clumsy. I didn’t mind it though, because my wife would lean over and take my hand, demonstrating how to do it correctly.
I repeat: My wife touched me of her own free will .
It was fucking amazing, but judging by my brother’s frequent eyerolls, he wasn’t as impressed as I was.
It didn’t matter, because from now on, we’d practice origami every day. Rain or shine.
The trip back to Boston took even longer because there were several stops in regards to Tijuana Cartel business we had to make. In fact, we had yet to even hit the Florida coastline. There were certain shipments—namely weapons—in the Caribbean that I preferred to handle personally. And then there was the fact that I wanted to keep her on this yacht and away from everyone else for as long as I could.
I was on my way back to my office when I heard a sound come from Liana’s room. I paused, glancing at my watch. It was one in the morning, and Liana was asleep. Or she was when I last checked on her.
Assuming I’d imagined the sound, I resumed walking, the warm breeze sweeping through, but then a strangled cry came through, loud and clear, and I froze.
I stopped in front of the door and listened, reluctant to disturb her sleep. Just as I was about to move away from the door, convinced it was the wind howling, another cry sounded.
Another nightmare, I realized.
I’d seen Lia thrash occasionally, plagued by whatever haunted her dreams. The first time it happened, I’d stroked her blonde strands and it soothed her.
I wrapped a hand around the doorknob and softly pushed it open. I kept my footsteps light in the dark of the room, the moon basking the room in its glow.
As it creaked open, she let out another strangled cry, and I rushed to the bed. She lay tangled in the middle of the bed, thrashing, drenched in sweat. The blankets had been tossed aside, leaving her in nothing but the shorts and tank top she usually wore for comfort. Her face was twisted in agony, her body rigid and curled in on itself, muscles taut and coiled as though bracing for a blow.
As quietly and gently as possible, I pressed my knee into the corner of the mattress and reached for her blonde strands.
“Shhh,” I cooed. “You’re safe.”
Her breaths were labored and her whimpers grew louder.
Carefully, I reached out and stroked my hand down her silky strands.
“Lia,” I whispered, trying to get her to wake her up without startling her. She thrashed against the mattress as she repeatedly muttered no , her hair damp.
My hand traveled down her neck until I reached her shoulder and cupped her neck.
“Lia,” I repeated, this time a little louder. I hated the way her body trembled, the sheer terror etched on her face. “Wake up.”
She startled abruptly, letting out a loud gasp. Her eyes were unfocused, darting left and right. It was as if she didn’t even see me.
She froze for a heartbeat, and then came at me. Everything happened so fast. I was suddenly on my back and she was straddling me with a knife pressed against my neck. Where in the fuck did she get a Swiss knife?
“Lia,” I called out, keeping my voice soft. She dug it into my neck, and I could feel warm liquid trickle down my throat. “Lia,” I repeated. “Wake up, wildflower. It’s me.”
She went still, blinking furiously, and I watched the haze slowly lift until she recognized me.
Then a heart-wrenching sob tore from her throat.
LIANA
Panic choked me and I began to shake, seeing blood trickle down Giovanni’s throat.
I did that.
“You’re okay,” he murmured. “It was just a dream.”
It wasn’t just a dream—it was a nightmare, a twisted mosaic of devastation, the ghosts of past sins, and the sharp sting of loss.
My eyes squeezed shut, trying to shove the images away. Shut the door on them and move on. I had to forget about it all.
“Lia, open your eyes for me.” Giovanni’s compelling voice penetrated my broken mind. “Come on, let me see them.”
And I did, although my body refused to stop shaking.
“Husband,” I said through clattering teeth, desperate to get myself together. I didn’t like anyone to see me this way.
His green eyes looked up at me and he smiled. “That’s right.”
I inhaled a deep breath before exhaling it slowly. We stared at each other, all my demons and sins out in the open for him to see. Yet somehow, it didn’t seem to matter.
Giovanni sat on his haunches, regarding me with a deep frown. His eyes held mine, panic and ghosts clawing at my chest. I fought it, determined not to let them win, but lately, they seemed to triumph effortlessly.
During the day, I thought progress and victory were mine, but at night… it was a different story.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he offered, my eyes locked on the blood on his neck.
I shook my head.
“Let me clean up the cut,” I said and he nodded.
We walked into the bathroom and he pulled out a first aid kit, then handed it to me. I placed it on the counter and examined the contents.
As I reached for the peroxide and a Band-Aid, I murmured, “I’m sorry.”
The words were foreign on my lips. I couldn’t remember the last time I apologized to anyone.
“Not necessary. You had a nightmare.”
His warm palm came to rest on my shoulder, something reassuring in his touch. And it was only then that the realization sunk in. I was growing comfortable with Giovanni’s touch.
Tabling that revelation for now, I cleaned out his cut, but when I opened the Band-Aid, I paused. It wasn’t the plain one I was accustomed to seeing, but a colorful kind that had little… I pulled it closer to see better… footprints on it.
“They’re dog footprints.”
I shot him a questioning look but just shrugged. Maybe Giovanni was fond of dogs. It wasn’t as if I knew a lot about him.
Placing the Band-Aid on the cut, I examined it clinically.
“Go ahead, you can laugh,” he offered, his eyes twinkling suspiciously.
I narrowed my eyes on him. “Why would I laugh?”
“Because I have a toddler’s Band-Aid on my neck.” He grimaced. “I must look especially irresistible now.”
My mouth twitched and I found myself relaxing. “Are you fishing for a compliment?”
He let out a strangled laugh. “Maybe.”
I shook my head. “I slice your throat and you want a compliment.”
He flashed me an irresistible smile. “Priorities.”
There was something about his expression that set my heart aflame with emotions. For a moment, neither one of us moved, and I found myself reaching for his neck. I traced the outline of the Band-Aid with my finger, and for the first time in a long time, I enjoyed a man’s proximity.
My breathing quickened and unfamiliar longing unfurled in the pit of my stomach. But then I remembered the dream and instantly an icy feeling washed over me.
“You have nothing to fear with me, Lia.”
The terrifying part was that I believed him. Trust and hope, two damned things that could tear you apart so easily.
“Maybe there’s something you should fear with me, Giovanni,” I stated matter-of-factly.
He didn’t seem worried. “Fear my wife? Never.”
“I’ve killed many men.”
He chuckled. “So have I.”
It was evident that our sense of morality was skewed, but I knew there were certain lines that men like Giovanni and the Omertà didn’t cross. I, on the other hand, had crossed them. And I feared, if put in the same position, I would do it again. The thorns of blood had buried themselves so deeply within me that no cleansing could reach them. No amount of peroxide or bandages could ever mend those wounds.
“But have you caused the deaths of innocent women and children too?” I asked, steeling myself.
But Giovanni surprised me, like he often seemed to do.
“Decisions made by every mafia man have caused the deaths of innocents, including those of women and children. An illegally sold gun impacted an innocent in one way or another. Smuggled drugs destroyed not only users but their families. Do you judge me ?”
The tension in his voice overpowered my demons. At least for now.
“No.”
He tilted his head, not saying anything for a long time. “So who am I, or anyone else in the Omertà, cartel, or any other criminal organization, to judge you?”
I stilled, every nerve in my body standing at attention.
His words shifted something inside me. I didn’t know what it was, but it seemed to be exactly what I needed to hear.
“I dreamt… that I killed you.” I swallowed a lump in my throat. “I wanted to protect you, but?—”
I couldn’t even finish the sentence.
He studied me quietly. “And how did you feel about it?”
“I didn’t like it very much.” Just thinking about that dream sent pain piercing through my chest. His lips twitched, but before he could say anything else, I continued, “I don’t think it’s safe for us to sleep in the same room.”
Although Giovanni didn’t sleep in the bed with me, he refused to stay in another room, claiming we needed to share at least something for the marriage to be legit. Of course, we both knew he was full of shit. The first night I barely slept a wink, but as the nights went on and he never tried anything, I gradually relaxed.
“You can handcuff me,” he offered.
I rolled my eyes. “I attacked you. It's probably safer if you handcuff me.”
My heart thudded with the offer. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure where it came from or how the words found themselves spoken.
His jaw worked slightly, but then to my great relief, he shook his head.
“I don’t think so.” I drew in a sharp breath and then exhaled it with relief. “Now let’s try to get some sleep.”