SEVENTEEN
“I CAN TELL LIFE AIN’T WHAT IT SEEMS. BUT NO MATTER WHAT IT IS. I STAY TRUE TO MYSELF.” MEEK MILL
It wasn’t no bitch or hoe inside of Jiorgio Gotti III. He feared nothing or no one. He’d stared down men twice his age without so much as a glimmer of fear.
He’d brokered million-dollar deals before breakfast, settled disputes that would've started wars, and survived a life where hesitation could get you buried before sunrise. Yet somehow, standing on the first tee box of East Lake Golf Club with a borrowed set of clubs resting against his shoulder had his stomach doing something it hadn’t done in years.
Flipping over like a fuckin’ gymnast.
He adjusted the collar of his navy polo for what felt like the tenth time before glancing toward the clubhouse where two members of his security detail stood far enough away to respect the privacy he’d requested but close enough to intervene if necessary.
Charles Marcelle had made one thing abundantly clear when he agreed to this meeting.
“Leave the circus at home.”
Jio had tried. Unfortunately, life no longer afforded him the luxury of going anywhere alone.
The crisp morning air carried the scent of freshly cut grass and cigar smoke, sprinklers kissed the fairway in the distance.
Men with gray hair and seven-figure portfolios laughed over whiskey before noon as golf carts zipped across perfectly manicured greens.
It was a world Jio had only ever seen from a distance.
One where power wore khakis instead of tailored suits and conversations worth millions happened between swings instead of boardroom tables.
Another man probably would be inspired to be invited to a clubhouse that came with a hundred thousand membership fee, but Jio hated every minute of this shit.
He’d never understood a sport that rewarded moving so damn slow. Patience was a virtue and he never had any.
“Are you going to hit the ball or admire the scenery all day?”
Charles never looked up as he addressed his own ball. His visor shaded his eyes and he settled into his stance with the confidence of a man who’d spent decades on this course.
Jio exhaled through his nose. “I’m trying not to embarrass myself.”
“You already have.”
Charles swung.
The crack echoed across the course before the ball sailed effortlessly down the center of the fairway.
“Damn,” Jio muttered under his breath.
Jio stepped up to the tee and swung.
The ball skipped twenty feet before disappearing into a patch of grass.
Charles bursted into laughter so hard he leaned against his club. “Jesus Christ. Did you even try to practice before coming out here?”
“Well, I told you I don’t play golf,” he said unashamedly.
“I can see that.”
Jio shook his head as they climbed into the cart.
The next few holes came and went with surprisingly little conversation. Charles talked business more than golf and Jio went with it. Thankfully, he wasn’t a dumb nigga so he was able to keep up with the changing topics. But by the sixth hole, he was over it.
“Mr. Marcelle.”
“Oh, is this your serious voice?” He’d been throwing shade all morning, but Jio never acknowledged it.
Charles sank the putt before finally turning toward him. “Whatever you came to ask me, the answer is no.”
Jio laughed before his expression settled again. His heartbeat picked up. This was the first time in years he'd genuinely been nervous.
He cleared his throat.
“I love your daughter.”
Charles sank the putt before finally turning toward him. “Whatever you came to ask me, the answer is no.”
“You don’t even know what I’m about to ask you.” He tried his best to keep his cool, but her family brought the worse out of him.
“I knew the moment you called asking to play golf.”
“You could've saved us both two hours,” he said through clenched teeth.
“And miss watching you butcher my golf course?” Charles grinned. “Not a chance.”
Jio paused, choosing his words carefully.
“I really love her.”
The older man studied him. “So what exactly are you trying to tell me?”
Jio inhaled deeply. “I want to marry Nina.”
For the first time all morning, Charles looked completely caught off guard.
His eyebrows shot toward his hairline before a chuckle escaped him. He was in disbelief and it showed. He laughed so hard he had to remove his visor.
“Boy… you done lost your damn mind.”
Jio ignored being called a boy. “Sir, with all due respect, I came here man to man.”
“Me and you are not the same, let’s start there.”
“I can see that.”
Charles rubbed a hand across his face before looking at the made man standing in front of him.
“You fuckin’ popped up out of nowhere and changed my baby girl. You destroyed everything I instilled in her. She barely talks to us, and I know you know that.”
Jio ignored everything he said. “I wanted to do it the right way.”
“She knows you’re here?”
He shook his head. “No, sir.”
“How did you get my number?”
Jio gave him a look that told him to cut the fuckin’ bullshit. He knew exactly who gave him his number.
“You want my blessing to take my daughter’s hand in marriage and make her a GOTTI?” he said disgustingly.
It counted for something, but it wasn’t enough. Nina could not marry a made man.
Charles sighed. “I appreciate you coming to me, and you probably love her, which I wish you didn’t, but hey, it is what it is.”
Jio’s chest tightened as he anticipated his final decision.
“But my answer is no.”
Jio searched his face, waiting for him to smile or to say he was joking, but he never did.
“No?” he repeated quietly. He’d never been told that before. Jio was used to getting his way.
Charles rested both hands on the top of his club.
“Marriage isn't going anywhere. What’s the rush? Nina needs to stay focused. She has a lot to look forward to. Marriage shouldn’t be one of those right now,” he tried to soften the blow.
Jio wanted to remind him that he was her best friend and she told him every fuckin’ thing, so he was more than aware that they’d been trying to get her down the aisle since she was eighteen years old.
Jio swallowed the anger rising in his throat.
He could have this nigga murked right now if he wanted.
His trigger finger was itching so bad. Every instinct inside of him wanted to react.
Jio thought about explaining himself. He was good at closing deals, but something told him it would be a waste of time.
He nodded once.
“Cool.”
Charles offered his hand.
Jio looked at it for a moment before shaking it firmly. He had to remain the bigger person here.
“Thank you for hearing me out.”
As he walked back toward the clubhouse, his security detail immediately fell in behind him.
Jio climbed into the driver’s seat of his truck, shut the door, and rested both hands against the steering wheel. He stared through the windshield, trying to accept what’d just taken place.
He found himself laughing but wasn’t shit funny. It was one of those chuckles that a man let out when life refused to go according to plan.
“I'm marrying her. Fuck that and fuck you to Mr. Baldhead Ass Marcelle!” he said before peeling out of the parking lot and going on about his day.
η
The hostess recognized Nina the moment she stepped through the entrance doors.
“Ms. Marcelle. Your party is already waiting.”
Nina followed her through the dimly lit dining room.
Danyelle was already halfway through a glass of Pinot Noir when Nina rounded the corner.
“There she is.”
Nina laughed as they embraced.
“I know. I'm late. Hiiiii!” Traffic was a mess. Roberto got her here as fast as he could. Nina worked up until he pulled up to the curb.
“You are.” Danyelle sat back down. “But since you’re paying, I’ll allow it.”
“I knew there was a catch.”
“Isn’t it always darling,” she joked.
The waiter arrived almost instantly, already familiar with Nina’s usual order. She requested sparkling water before ordering the lobster ravioli. Danyelle opted for the ribeye she’d been talking about all week.
“You still not drinking?” Danyelle asked.
“It makes me sluggish. I’ll have a glass of wine every now and then,” she lied easily.
Once the waiter disappeared, the conversation shifted effortlessly the way it always did between them.
Business. Family. Social media. The latest celebrity scandal.
Danyelle’s newest situationship that she swore she was done entertaining even though she still answered his phone calls every other night.
“I’ve been yapping since you sat down. Fill me in on everything.”
Nina didn’t have much to update her on. They talked as much as their schedules permitted. “Life is good, work is great. Nothing juicy to share, unfortunately.”
Nina didn’t do much these days.
Danyelle leaned forward.
“You’re gorgeous.”
“Well, thank you friend,” she said bashfully.
“You’re successful,” she added. Nina could tell that she was a little tipsy.
“I’m trying to get there.”
“Anddd, you’ve got men throwing themselves at you. You’re living the life bitches dream of.”
“I can’t wait for you to get to the point,” she teased.
Danyelle took the last sip of her wine. “So why in the hell have you been acting like you're ninety-three years old?”
Nina burst into laughter. “You’re more dramatic than me, I swear.”
“I’m serious!” Danyelle insisted. “You’re young, rich, pretty, but for some reason your ass won’t leave the house!” She didn’t understand.
“I don’t want to be outside though.” She’d always been a homebody. Some things just wouldn’t change. No matter how much money she made, she was still going to choose being home over being out. Nina stepped out just enough to keep her social battery charged.
“Your husband is not at home, miss mamas,” she wagged her finger.
Nina shook her head but she was still smiling. “I've already found my person.”