Chapter 14
Rodrigo moved down the halls of the villa, needing space from Giana and all the feelings she stirred up in him.
His stomach growled, and he realized he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He moved through the shadowed halls, the polished marble floors cold under his bare feet, and headed for the kitchen.
Low, familiar voices reached him before he turned the corner and found the kitchen lights on with Leo and Dario already in there.
The kitchen was a vast, high-ceilinged space, a blend of an ancient stone hearth and modern stainless-steel appliances. Gabriella had rarely set foot in there, and it had always been a place of warmth and utility that felt refreshingly separate from her influence.
Leo sat perched on a tall stool at the central island, his laptop and a half-eaten plate of cold cuts and cheese alongside an open bottle of Peroni.
Dario leaned against the massive, ancient stone counter near the sink, munching on a thick, elaborately made sandwich. He looked more relaxed than Rodrigo had seen him in days, dressed in sweats and a gray Henley. He was watching Leo with an affectionate, slightly exasperated expression.
"…and if you reroute the primary feed through that secondary node before the encryption layer kicks in," Leo was saying, pointing at something on his screen, "the latency is negligible, but it creates a phantom signature in the old CCTV logs.
Anyone watching closely might think we're trying to hide something on the perimeter cams, not masking the entire manipulation layer. "
"So it makes it look like we're being sloppy, hiding a vulnerability, not cleverly hiding the fact that we're manipulating everything?" Dario asked around a mouthful of bread.
"Exactly. Authentic incompetence is harder to fake than competence, but more believable when you're supposedly distracted by lovebirds." Leo took a swig of his beer, eyes shining with the fun he was having screwing with their enemies.
"Authentic incompetence," Dario repeated, chuckling. "Right up my alley. Remind me why we let the assassin tech genius handle the subtle stuff again?"
"Because your idea of subtlety involves a sledgehammer and a megaphone," Leo shot back without looking up, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
Rodrigo stepped into the light. "Couldn't sleep?"
Both brothers jumped, turning toward him. Dario recovered first, his eyes sweeping over Rodrigo, taking in the casual clothes, the bandaged hand, the weary set of his shoulders.
"Look who's talking. I thought you'd be occupied with our guest, or planning to invade the whole of Sicily." The suggestive lift of his eyebrow was pure Dario.
Rodrigo ignored the implication, moving toward the industrial-sized stainless-steel refrigerator. He yanked it open, the cool light spilling out.
"Occupied with hunger." He scanned the shelves, pulling out a block of aged pecorino, a container of olives, and another bottle of Peroni. He grabbed a knife and a small wooden board from a rack.
"Thank God you didn't fire the cook when you 'de-Gabriella-fied' the place," Leo commented, watching Rodrigo assemble his meager feast on the counter beside him. "Leftovers are still top-tier." He nudged the plate of cold cuts toward Rodrigo.
Rodrigo grunted in acknowledgment, slicing cheese while he popped an olive into his mouth. The familiar ritual of food preparation, simple and grounding, helped settle the lingering disquiet from his conversation with Giana.
Dario picked up the open beer bottle Rodrigo had set down and took a long pull before handing it back.
"Keep it." Rodrigo grabbed another from the fridge. "I don't know where your mouth has been."
"Nowhere fun lately," Dario lamented. "How's Giana settling back in? And what did she think of the party plan and the whole 'playing happy couple under enemy surveillance' bit?"
Rodrigo took a swig of the fresh beer. Leo had stopped typing, his attention fully on Rodrigo.
"She agreed to it," he replied.
He paused, the next words sticking in his throat. Honesty was a muscle he was still learning to use.
"I told her everything. About Gabriella and about us after Niccolò died. Why we kept her alive, why Leo was forced into the engagement, and why he left."
A heavy silence descended on the kitchen, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator. Leo's face was unreadable, his gaze fixed on a point somewhere over Rodrigo's shoulder. Dario leaned his hip against the island, his expression sobering.
"Everything?" Leo asked quietly.
Rodrigo met his brother's eyes. "Everything. She needed to know that we never hated her, that she was just caught in our mess. She deserved that much."
Leo nodded slowly, pain crossing his features before he masked it. "I couldn't stay. After… everything." He trailed off, unable to voice the details of their mother's cruelty.
"I didn't think Gabriella would keep her locked up like that if you were gone," he added eventually.
"I thought her anger would cool and that she'd eventually see Giana as a person.
Or at least a useful asset to be treated decently.
I was naive. Gabriella's anger never cooled. It just found new targets."
Dario snorted softly. He picked up a slice of salami from the shared plate and folded it neatly.
"Useful asset, sure, but let's be real, Leone." He popped the salami into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully before adding, "Gabriella should have just asked Rodrigo to marry her instead of you and saved everyone a lot of fucking drama." He shot Rodrigo a sideways glance, half-teasing, half-probing.
Rodrigo didn't rise to the bait immediately. He picked up his beer again, taking another long pull. The image of Giana, pale but resolute, her fingers laced tentatively with his, flashed in his mind. The warmth of her skin. The fragile peace she had offered.
"I would be a lucky man," he said, the words quiet in the hushed kitchen.
Leo's head snapped up, his eyes wide with sudden, dawning comprehension. Dario froze mid-chew, his gaze locking onto Rodrigo with intense focus. The playful smirk vanished.
"Oh," Leo breathed, the single syllable laden with sudden understanding. "Really, Rodrigo? She's seven years younger than you."
"Eight actually," Rodrigo replied. "Age doesn't matter."
Dario swallowed his mouthful, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. It was warm, almost relieved.
"Took you long enough to figure out you were gone on her, big brother. Christ, I have known for years you have only one soft spot, and it was for her."
Rodrigo sighed. There was no point in denial. Not here. Not with them. The truth felt like shedding an old, heavy skin.
"I knew," he admitted, his voice rough. He picked up the knife again just to have something solid in his grip. "I just had to hide it to keep her safe. If Gabriella had ever suspected I had caught feelings, what do you think she would have done?"
Leo's grin faded, replaced by a grim understanding. "Used her safety against you. Threatened her. Hurt her. Made her existence a living hell specifically designed to break you if you dared step out of line."
"Exactly," Rodrigo said.
He remembered the cold calculation in Gabriella's eyes whenever she looked at Giana as if she weren't a person, but a tool, a weapon, a bargaining chip. The thought of her turning that focus onto Giana because of Rodrigo's feelings… It was a nightmare that had fueled his distance for years.
"I protected Giana, and I made damn sure Gabriella never saw anything in me but the dutiful son managing an asset."
Dario ran a hand through his hair and let out a long exhale. "Fuck me, why is our family so messed up?"
The legacy of Gabriella's ruthless ambition and their father's death felt like a stain they couldn't scrub clean, no matter how hard they tried.
Rodrigo looked at his brothers. Leo, who had defied and suffered, and Dario, the loyal soldier grappling with his own demons. A fierce protective surge rushed through him. They were all that was left. They were all that mattered.
"At least now, we have a chance to be better than her, right?" Rodrigo looked between them, seeking confirmation and solidarity. "To build something that isn't just cages and blood debts?"
Leo nodded slowly, and Dario clapped a hand on Rodrigo's shoulder. "Damn right we do."
Leo's expression softened, the intensity shifting back to concern. "Just try not to hurt her, okay? She's been through enough because of us."
"Hurting her is the very last thing I'm planning," Rodrigo replied with a slight smile.
Dario raised an eyebrow, the familiar teasing glint returning. "Okay, Casanova, what are you planning? Beyond giving her Sicilian heads on a platter?"
Rodrigo's smile widened, and he looked from Dario to Leo. "We deal with Vincenzo Falcone, and we make sure anyone else who looks at her understands the cost of touching her. Afterward, I somehow convince her to stay with me."
Leo let out a soft huff of laughter, shaking his head. "Right. Simple. Just dismantle a Sicilian crime family's ambitions, then convince the fiercely independent woman whose life we ruined to stick around. No pressure."
Rodrigo's smile didn't waver. "She asked me to teach her to fight. Guns. Blades."
Dario whistled low. "Playing with fire, brother. Teaching the queen how to wield the sword? Bold move."
"It's necessary," Rodrigo countered. "I won't always be there, and she needs to be able to protect herself."
The thought was a blade to his gut, but it was the truth he'd ignored for too long. His protection, however fierce, had limits. Her freedom required her own strength.
"And after the weapons training?" Leo pressed, leaning forward, intrigued despite himself.
"How exactly do you plan this grand persuasion?
Flowers? Chocolates? A declaration written in the blood of her enemies?
" His tone was dry, but there was no malice, only a brotherly skepticism mixed with curiosity.
Rodrigo shrugged. "I don't have a twelve-step plan, Leo. Only a few ideas. I just know I can't let her walk away again. She wants to build something new out of our family's legacies. I want that too, but with her."
"I think you're going to need a lot of help," Leo stated bluntly, a smile tugging at his lips.
"Though she is kind of perfect for you, you know?
She doesn't put up with any of your bossy, controlling bullshit.
She calls you on it. And she stopped you from punching a hole through the wall with your bare hands.
That's a skill we've all lacked for years. "
Dario barked a laugh. "Maybe she can teach us the trick of Rodrigo whispering."
Rodrigo ignored him, focusing on Leo's earlier point. "So? Will you help? Both of you? Not just with Vincenzo. With… her?"
He gestured vaguely, encompassing the impossible task of winning Giana.
Leo met his gaze, and he raised his beer bottle in a small salute. "Always, brother. Even if it's just to watch the train wreck of you trying to court someone."
Dario clapped Rodrigo on the back again, harder this time.
"Hell yes. Watching you try to romance someone who sees through your scary-Colleoni-boss act like it's tissue paper?
That's entertainment I'm not missing. And if we can't help…
Well, it'll be fucking hilarious to watch her walk all over you. "
"Thanks, assholes." Rodrigo rolled his eyes, but a warmth spread through his chest, unfamiliar and welcome. He picked up his beer bottle, clinking it against Leo's, then Dario's. "To the train wreck."
For the first time in longer than he could remember, he didn't feel entirely alone.