Chapter 8 Gio
GIO
I promised myself I wouldn’t go back.
That I would leave Stephanie—Jane—and her little boy to their perfect, happy life.
That conviction lasted all of twenty-four hours.
I just can’t let sleeping dogs lie.
I don’t know how to walk away from her. I thought I could, but the black abyss threatening to consume my soul grows with each passing hour.
She’s all I can think about, and I have this constant, nagging compulsion to see with my own eyes that she’s still there. That she’s alive. Safe.
Of course, I know in my mind that she must be.
She has a husband, a family.
They live in a sweet little house on a quiet little street—just like the life she always pictured.
It was the thing we argued about most when we were together.
I wanted to stay in Chicago, to serve as my older brother’s right-hand man and bring honor to our family name.
Stephanie wanted us to have a quiet life somewhere far from the city.
And while she didn’t make it very far, she’s at least accomplished the kind of life she was looking for.
A life without me.
Rubbing at the ache I can’t reach beneath my ribcage, I stare blankly at my computer screen, unable to process the numbers before me.
For the last five hours, I’ve been occupying the conference room table in Miko’s Bratva compound—our headquarters until the twins and I have the strength to take back the ruins of our once-indestructible home.
I don’t think I’ve accomplished a single thing since I sat down.
Heaving a sigh, I glance involuntarily at the clock in the top corner of my computer screen.
It’s nearly seven.
I’ve missed my window to watch her walk home again—or more like resisted it through sheer, agonizing willpower.
But if I left now, I might catch a glimpse of them sitting down to dinner.
Preferably before her husband arrives.
Just like that, the tenuous string holding my determination together snaps.
I can’t do this.
I can’t stay away.
Not even if she wants me to.
But before I can rise from my chair, the door to my temporary office flies open and the twins stride in.
“You are not going to believe the juicy bit of information we just picked up,” Raf says, looking more alive than I’ve seen him since the day his wife died.
Sandro, on the other hand, looks half beat to hell, his lip bloody and a shiner darkening his left eye.
His hair is wet, dripping with sweat would be my guess, judging by the pair of boxing shorts that peek out from the waistband of his joggers and the towel draped casually around his bare, tattooed shoulders.
“You’ve been at the fighting pits,” I observe dryly, quirking an eyebrow because we all agreed they were too dangerous after the stunt the Murrays pulled.
There’s an unspoken rule in underground fighting that what conflicts might arise between families on the streets are to be left at the door—or sorted out in the rings.
But still, the Murrays run the bare-knuckle fights, and seeing as they were part of the force that came barreling through our front gates to burn down our family home, we came to a consensus that we would take a break from attending until things cooled down.
Or so I thought.
“I tried to talk him out of it,” Raf says, waving a dismissive hand at his twin as he stops in front of me. “But you know Sandro. There was only so long that was going to last.”
Rising from my chair, I cross my arms over my chest as I scowl at my two younger brothers.
“And what would have happened if the Murrays decided to hold you there?” I press.
But who am I to judge my brother for his inability to stay away?
It would seem a lack of discipline when it comes to impulsive urges is a trait that runs in the family.
Because I know that even if I’m not happy that Sandro’s started fighting again, I’m still going to visit Stephanie as soon as I’m done scolding him about it.
Guilt twists in my gut when I consider my decision. Sandro might be risking his own life by going against orders—but I’m risking hers every time I go near her.
No doubt, that’s why she wanted to start a new life without me.
My dark thoughts spiral as I consider the potential ramifications of my actions.
I have enemies—more now than ever.
And if I go to visit her, I could be leading them right to her doorstep.
But I’ve been careful.
Aside from that first day, when I wasn’t even entirely sure it was even her, I’ve made certain no one was following me.
“Gio.” Raf snaps his fingers in front of my face, calling me back to the present.
I was so caught up in my own thoughts, I didn’t even hear what he said.
“Is something wrong?” he asks, his enthusiasm dampening slightly as concern flits across his face.
Wrong?
Everything is wrong.
Our family is in shambles, the men who were meant to be ruling it either dead or gone, and the woman I love is back from the dead and pretending she doesn’t know me.
But how do I say any of that?
It’s not my brothers’ burden to bear.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “You’re going to have to repeat that.”
The only pushback I get is an eyeroll before Raf jumps right back into his story, his enthusiasm blatant in his growing volume.
“I went with Sandro because I’m not an idiot and knew it was a bad idea to start mingling with the Irish again, so I wasn’t about to let him do it alone.
But while he was getting his ass handed to him in the ring—”
“Hey,” Sandro objects behind Raf, but Raf just keeps going.
“I struck up a conversation with one of the guys we used to be pretty close with back in the day.”
“And?” I press, glancing back at Sandro before returning my eyes to Raf’s intense face.
“Rumor has it, the Murrays aren’t so happy with the way things shook out with the Tanakas.
They didn’t get the split they were promised, and now they’re looking for a reason to get into bed with someone else.
” Raf’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, his tailored Italian suit at odds with the youthful glee in his face.
“That’s great,” I observe, but I can’t muster the same level of enthusiasm because all I can think about is the man Stephanie will be climbing into bed with instead of me tonight.
White-hot jealousy rises up through my core, and though I know it’s entirely unmerited, I want to pummel the man’s face into the ground.
Would it be so wrong to take back what I want?
I’m the patriarch of my family now.
I can—no, I will—protect Stephanie and her little boy.
Sure, I might be breaking up a family, but who am I to say that they’re happy?
I can at least tell her how I feel—give her the option.
And if I win her back, then perhaps her husband wasn’t the right man for her to begin with.
Who am I kidding?
Stephanie was born to be mine.
I’ve wanted her from the first moment I laid eyes on her, and as long as she walks this earth, she won’t be rid of me.
I’ll take whatever role I can get in her life.
And I intend to prove that she won’t regret picking me.
“Gio,” Raf says again, annoyance blatant in his tone now.
Sandro shakes his head and grasps his twin’s shoulder. “Let’s go find Miko.”
Raf nods, throwing me a dark scowl. “At least he’ll give a damn.”
A twinge of remorse tightens my gut, knowing that I’m doing a terrible job of leading this family, of taking the revenge we’re owed.
But I was never born to bear the crown.
I’ve only ever stood at the sidelines, ready to step in as support.
And now that the responsibility of Don has been thrust upon me, something so much bigger has walked back into my life.
She’s my everything, and I couldn’t care less about lost territory or war when I have the opportunity to feel the touch of the woman I love.
Glancing down at my right palm, I can still feel the residual from our palms meeting, the electric jolt that worked like a defibrillator to my cold, dead heart.
Leave the plotting to my brothers.
They can manage without me.
It’s time to check on Stephanie.
The commute goes by in record time since I decided to take one of Miko’s cars—the Volvo—to avoid calling unnecessary attention to myself.
I park it several blocks away, in front of a house with a For Sale sign, and it tickles the back of my mind that I could buy a house in Stephanie’s neighborhood.
Then I wouldn’t even have to continue my white lie. But perhaps that’s a bit too over the top.
Stalking her will have to be enough to satisfy me for the time being.
I catch the familiar sound of a trash lid slamming shut just as I near the corner of the gray house’s white picket fence, and I smile when Jackson comes into view.
He gives the tall gate a solid tug to latch it, and when he turns toward me, his face splits into a wide grin.
“Hey, Gio! Where were you yesterday? Did you have a sleepover at a friend’s house?”
The innocent question makes me chuckle, and I step closer to bump knuckles with the little man—a greeting he introduced me to a few days back that apparently proves we’re really friends.
“Something like that,” I agree—after all, I’ve been sleeping in one of Miko’s guest bedrooms.
And while he’s technically my adopted brother, he’s also about the closest thing I have to a true friend.
“What did I miss?” I ask, glancing toward the house as if to glean some information of my own.
Jackson shrugs. “I got a warning for being late to school this morning.” Then he drops his voice, leaning a little closer like it’s a secret. “But don’t tell Mom. She always feels bad when that happens.”
“I won’t say a word,” I promise, amusement playing at my lips even as my heart clenches.
The kid can’t be much older than six, judging by his size, and yet he’s already protecting his mom.
I might not know much about children, but I suspect his level of compassion is unusual for someone his age, and it makes me adore him all the more—because that comes straight from Stephanie.
Damn it. Jane, I remind myself for what must be the hundredth time.
I’m going to have to be careful about that if I intend to play her little game.
The sound of a door swinging open makes my heart skip a beat, and a moment later, Stephanie peeks her head outside.
“Jackson?” she calls, her neck swiveling until she spots her little boy.
Then her eyes lift to mine, and nervous anticipation crackles along my spine as they light up, a smile curving her red-painted lips.
“Gio, what a pleasant surprise.”
Is it? I half expected another severe scolding, and maybe she can read the thought on my face as her cheeks flush a tantalizing pink.
“Nice to see you again, Jane.” If that isn’t the understatement of the century.
As she steps out onto the pathway, letting the side door swing closed, it feels like I take a deep breath into my oxygen-starved lungs for the first time in days.
“I was starting to worry I’d scared you off with my whole momma bear act,” she admits, stopping behind Jackson and wrapping her arms affectionately around his shoulders.
He leans into her, tilting his head back so he can look up at her. “Gio was having a sleepover too,” he says.
Shock flits across Stephanie’s face, followed by what I can only interpret as disappointment, and her cheeks flush as she meets my eyes with a hint of embarrassment—as if she’s learned something she would rather not know.
“Is that so?” she asks, her voice suddenly guarded.
An odd reaction, considering she’s married, but I could almost take it to mean she thinks I spent the night with another woman—and she doesn’t like the thought.
“I was at my brother’s,” I clarify, testing my theory.
Yes, I know her well enough to recognize that look of relief. Interesting.
She sees nothing wrong with moving on and having children with another man—but she doesn’t like the thought of my doing the same.
“You must be close,” she observes, tugging her lips into a warm smile to mask her true emotions.
I shrug.
She should know better than anyone the complicated relationships in my family.
Yes, I would do just about anything for my brothers.
Yes, we’ve lived under the same roof for nearly our entire lives.
But our father raised us with the distinct belief that rivalry would drive us to excel better than camaraderie.
So, while I love my brothers fiercely, I wouldn’t exactly call us affectionate. “We tolerate each other,” I joke, and I’m rewarded with the harmonious sound of Stephanie’s laughter.
“Well, we’re glad you’re back. Would you like to join us for dinner?” she offers, combing her fingers through Jackson’s unruly curls to indicate the “us” in that invitation.
Unless she’s referring to her husband. But I have yet to catch a glimpse of him at dinnertime.
“You’re sure your husband won’t mind?” I ask. Not that I give a damn, when I intend on stealing her back regardless, but I can’t say as much.
Jackson frowns, his head tilting back again so he can give his mother a look of confusion, and Stephanie blushes all the way up to the roots of her hair.
“Oh, um.” Cringing as she glances down at her son, Stephanie unleashes an apologetic smile when she looks back up at me.
The brilliance of it could make me forgive her even before she’s said what she’s done to deserve it. And I just pray she’s not about to rescind her offer.
“About that. I don’t… actually have a husband. Sorry, I just… Being a single mom can feel vulnerable sometimes, so it doesn’t hurt to let strangers think there’s a man in the house.”
The relief that washes through me is so intense, I couldn’t care less that she lied.
She’s not married.
That fact makes me so happy, it’s near impossible to keep the emotion inside.
But I do my best to keep my cool as I grin like a complete fool.
“Dinner sounds nice,” I agree.