36. Vinnie
36
VINNIE
“ W hy did you bring her here?” Mario asks.
“She was suffering.”
“Yes, but you hate me. You knew bringing her here would make me happy.” He looks into my eyes—really looks into them. “So I’m asking you, Vincent. Why?”
Clearly I was mistaken about why he sent me to Colombia. So I’ll use this to my advantage. “She’s a gift. And I’ll ask for a gift in return.”
“And what is that?”
“You and Serena take off. I’ll get you new IDs, a wonderful place to live out your final years. In return, you turn control of everything over to me.”
His jaw tightens. “So that’s what this is about.”
“I would’ve rescued Serena no matter what,” I say. “Because I have empathy. I have feelings. I don’t think anyone should be held against their will, especially not a woman in her eighties.”
“I see.”
“The only difference is I wouldn’t have told you about it. I would’ve taken care of her, made sure she lived out her last years in comfort and riches.”
He wrinkles his forehead. “So why involve me at all?”
“You know why. You wanted me to take over eventually anyway. You were just waiting to see whether you could trust me. I’ve done everything you’ve asked, Mario, other than complete the negotiations with Agudelo. I thought getting Serena out of there was more important, and I think you agree with me. Now it’s your turn. I’ve earned the right to take over this family, to run it the way I see fit.”
He scowls. “You’ll run it into the ground.”
“And what if I do? Would it matter? You’ll be with the love of your life. If you’re lucky, you’ve got ten years left, and you’ll get to spend them safe and sound with Serena. Without watching over your shoulder all the time. Without knowing that in an instant, it could all be over if you piss off the wrong person.”
“I’ve pissed off many people in my life.” He crosses his arms defiantly. “No one’s taken me out yet. I have the best security in the business.”
“And wouldn’t it be nice not to have that? Wouldn’t it be nice to live alone, somewhere tropical maybe, only you and Serena?”
He sighs. Pauses a moment. Then, “I don’t know that she wants that.”
I have to stop myself from laughing. Is Mario Bianchi actually concerning himself with what another person might want?
He really does love her. He never stopped loving her. As hardened as he became, as many horrible things as he did, inside he always loved Serena.
“She should be given a choice,” he continues, his voice barely a whisper. “She deserves that much.”
My God, who is this man? He never gave me a fucking choice. He never gave my mother a choice. Not Mikey either. Savannah’s the only one who got a choice, and I had to return so she could have it.
I think the original version of “blood is thick than water” is making sense to Mario now.
I look into the eyes that are so like mine. God, I’m a dead ringer for him. This is what I’ll look like in fifty years.
Where before I saw only malice, now I see fear. It’s an emotion that Mario Bianchi has never allowed himself to show, not even to his own family. But it’s there now, swirling in his eyes. Fear of losing control. Fear of losing Serena. Fear of the future he thinks I might build, one that could erase every trace of his rule.
I’ll be damned.
This man, the terrifying patriarch of our family, is afraid of me. It’s a sobering thought, but also an empowering one.
“Mario,” I tell him firmly. “This isn’t about my power or your fear. This is about Serena and what’s best for her. You know as well as I do that she belongs with you. She always did.”
He scowls at my sentiment, not bothering to respond. An uncomfortable silence settles between us. In the stillness, I see the gears in his mind turning, indecision pawing at him like a stray cat at a closed door.
Very quietly, so quiet that I can barely hear him, Mario murmurs, “And if she doesn’t want me?”
I raise an eyebrow. I didn’t expect this question from him. “What?”
“If she doesn’t choose me, what then?” He’s looking down now, his gaze fixed on the floor.
His vulnerability is palpable and shakes me to my core. This is not the man I’ve known and feared my entire life. This is someone else. Someone I don’t recognize.
I pause before replying, considering my words carefully. “If she doesn’t choose you,” I begin, my voice somber but steady, “you’ll walk away. You’ll give her the freedom to live her remaining years as she sees fit. I swear to you she’ll be well cared for.”
Mario doesn’t answer immediately. He sits there for what feels like an eternity, immobile except for the rise and fall of his chest. His gaze remains fixed on the floor.
Eventually, he looks up at me, age evident in his weary eyes. The years of ruling our family with iron fists seem to have caught up with him in this single moment.
“I’ve done a lot of things in my life that I am not proud of,” he begins, his voice hoarse with emotion. “But losing Serena was and always has been my biggest regret.”
His words hang in the air.
His biggest regret?
Not his violation of me? Of Mikey? Of our mother?
Not all the merciless killings?
But at least he’s showing some emotion.
I swallow down my bitterness and manage a nod. “Then don’t make the same mistake again. If she chooses you, you’ll both get your happily-ever-after in some tropical paradise. If not, then at least you gave her the respect of a choice.”
“What about you, Vinnie?” he asks, dragging his gaze from the floor to meet mine. “What do you get out of it?”
My heart clenches. What do I get? A kingdom built on blood and violence…and the chance to make it into something better.
“I get a chance,” I reply, “to prove that the Bianchi family can be more than its past.”
A slow, reluctant smile tugs at the corners of Mario’s lips. His eyes glimmer with a mixture of pride and resignation.
“I always thought you had potential,” he admits. His gaze never leaves mine, the somber resignation in his eyes slowly replaced by a flicker of hope. “I just hope you’re ready, Vinnie.”
“Ready for what?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.
He smirks at me, the ghost of the man I grew up fearing coming back to life in that fleeting smile. “For everything that comes next. You think you can handle it?”
The question hangs in the air between us, heavier than any silence we’ve shared tonight. It’s not just about running the family business anymore. It’s about proving myself, changing decades’ worth of tradition and expectation.
I lift my chin up and meet his challenging gaze with determination. “I can handle it.”