39. Giovanni
THIRTY-NINE
GIOVANNI
S he left me.
Sitting on the rooftop terrace in my brother-in-law’s penthouse, I listened to the party in full swing behind me. Music was playing, champagne was flowing, and it seemed people had traveled far and wide to don their swankiest getups.
Everything was the same as it was this morning when I first woke up, only now I was alone. And I was well under way to getting drunk as I nursed my fifth glass of whiskey. I half debated whether I should just switch to a bottle and save myself the effort of pouring. To make matters worse—or better, depending on how you looked at it—I hacked the party’s playlist and now it was all Eminem and Sarah McLachlan blaring through the speakers. No better way to give people whiplash.
“Are you still wallowing?” my sister’s voice came from behind me.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.
“Are you having fun listening to these dumb-ass songs? Because none of the other guests are. Can’t we switch to something normal?”
“They’re not dumb-ass songs.” Didn’t she fucking know they were Liana’s favorites?
I took another slug of whiskey, then resumed staring out at Boston’s city lights. This was home as much as my yacht was, despite how I spent the majority of my time in Italy, thanks to Mateo and his need to spend more time at home with his wife and growing family.
“Are you really going to mope around?” Marissa’s high-pitched voice was giving me a headache. “Do you really need me to say it?”
“Say what?”
“Go after her. Bring her back!”
“She made it clear, she doesn’t—” Fuck, I couldn’t even say the words. I was such a total loser, unable to think about the words she’d thrown in my face. I don’t love you. I never will.
“Bullshit.”
“I can’t hold her back. Lia endured enough and was kept a prisoner for too long already.” Marissa let out an exaggerated breath, blowing raspberries like she used to when she was a little girl. “And for the love of God, stop blowing on me. I’m not on fire.”
“But you are full of shit.” Then, as if she needed to emphasize her words, she kicked my chair. Why did I attract the crazies? “You’re my brother and I love you, but right now, you’re being an idiot.”
“Fuck you, Marissa.”
“She loves you, Giovanni,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “I saw it on her resting-bitch face.”
“She has a beautiful face,” I muttered. “So soft and?—”
“Jesus Christ. If you’re going to start swooning like a little bitch, I’m going to fucking puke.”
I loved my sister, but Declan had to be a saint to handle her.
“Go puke,” I told her flatly. “And do us both a favor, don’t come back.”
She turned on her heel, muttering something under her breath, and stormed off the balcony, leaving the door wide open.
The sound of giggles and laughter reached me and I glared in its direction. Normally, I loved children. Brianna’s and Mateo’s kids were my favorite little ones, but today they reminded me of what I didn’t have.
What I would never have.
“Hello, Giovanni,” Brianna’s youngest daughter, Aspen, greeted me while Dante, her older brother, and Emma, her oldest sister, watched me attentively. He was a protective little fucker, as he should be. “Why are you so sad?”
“I’m tired,” I said, keeping my voice soft. Aspen got easily spooked by sudden movements and loud voices. Honestly, I was surprised she was taking Eminem so well, although judging by her mother’s face, she wasn’t happy about all the explicit content. Luckily, that guy sputtered words too fast and furious for either Dante or Aspen to pick anything up.
“Don’t be sad, Uncle Giovanni. You don’t get another chance, life is no Nintendo game.” My brows furrowed. Did Dante just quote an Eminem song? I barked a laugh. Maybe I had already lost my mind. But just as I came to that conclusion, Dante added, “Maybe that’s what happens when a tornado meets a volcano. You and Aunt Liana.”
I choked on more laughter, pulling out my phone from my pocket, and shut down the playlist. Gasps of relief traveled through the air, causing Dante to roll his eyes.
“Don’t listen to Eminem,” I warned him.
“Bite me,” he muttered. “I’ll rap to Eminem if I want to.”
“That’s enough,” I warned him in my sturdiest voice. “Got it?”
The little guy shrugged. “Why? Don’t want my daddy to chop you up?”
Jesus. I had a mini Marissa with the badass attitude of Mateo wrapped up in the small, too-cute body of a ten-year-old.
“Dante, your dad isn’t chopping anyone up. Stop saying shit like that.” I put the bottle down on the table and said, “Now, take your sisters and go check on your parents.”
“So damn bossy,” Dante muttered while Aspen waved her hand at me, smiling like it could make the whole world better.
I got up and walked over to the railing, closing my eyes against the late fall wind.
She was out there without me. She fucking left me. Knocked me out with her gun and fucking left me like dust in the wind.
When I regained consciousness earlier today, my head throbbing like a motherfucker, I picked my heart up off the floor and went about my day. I even held a meeting without killing anyone.
I fought the urge to go after her, but I knew she wouldn’t want to see me, so after I discovered where she was headed, I called Louisa and had her fly to New York. She’d keep Lia safe, and it was about time they patched things up.
Kingston came earlier and got my wife’s stuff. Whatever she hadn’t destroyed. Instead of giving it to him, I almost shot him. I had no idea what possessed me, but I wanted to hold on to all her favorite things so she would have to come back.
It didn’t matter that I knew it wasn’t right. She should want to come back… for me. But she didn’t, and I feared she never would.
I pushed her too hard. I wanted too much.
I’d been so sure that she felt the same as I did about her, that we’d work something out. That I wouldn’t lose her completely. How very fucking wrong I was.
And now, I didn’t know what to do.
I’d clipped her wings by forcing her to stay with me. What the fuck was I thinking? I let my heart and desire get the better of me. I let my heart go after what it wanted. Stupid fucking heart.
Goddammit, I needed to get away from this party before I went insane. Maybe I could drive to New York, park myself outside Killian Cullen’s manor, and stare at the house until I could sneak a peek of the woman I’d fallen for.
Pushing off the railing, I made my way inside where the party still raged.
Before I could make my way out of the door, my brothers cornered me. Cristiano was nursing a pint while Romeo held a glass of something that looked like cognac.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Romeo asked. “You’ve been ignoring all my texts.”
“And I have to talk to you,” Cristiano hissed. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for?—”
“Not now.”
“Yes, now,” Cristiano snapped, his anger directed to me. “I think I know why she left.” Now that captured my attention. I stared at him, waiting for an explanation. “Mother was Santiago Tijuana’s mistress while he was married to Liana.”
Nothing could have prepared me for that revelation.