Jeniah
T he penthouse’s open floor plan feels closed—suffocating. Every corner I turn, a man in black stands guard. Is he afraid I’ll leave him? Are they here to keep the bad guys out or to keep me in?
Gio tightened security the day after we made love. Doubling and then tripling the men. I can’t move from one room to another without tripping over one. Gio and Atlas stay in private meetings, the tension between them spilling out in heated arguments. Their voices rise just loud enough for me to catch fragments of their conversations, pieces that make my skin prickle with goosebumps.
“…can’t keep her in the dark forever,” Atlas’s voice drifts down the hallway, laced with frustration.
“I’m trying to protect her,” Gio snaps, his words jagged, raw.
“By lying? That’s not protection. That’s—”
A door slams, cutting off whatever truth Atlas was about to throw at him. My chest tightens, and I slam the book closed, startling Milo, who’s nesting in my lap. It’s been eight days since Gio crashed into my life, changing everything. But even with all our short time together, I know he’s keeping something from me that he hasn’t revealed all his secrets.
Enough is a damned enough . I stand and head to Gio’s study before realizing what I’m doing. My hand hesitates on the door, my heart beating fast, too loud. When I knock, there’s a pause, then Gio’s deep voice responds, “Come in.”
When I enter, he’s standing by the window, his broad shoulders rigid, with his back to me. Atlas shakes his head as he passes me. But the only thing I can read on his face is frustration. When Gio turns, concern flickers in his eyes before he covers it with a soft smile.
“,” he says, crossing the room with his panther stride that always makes my pulse quicken. “Everything alright?”
I want to melt into him, to let him charm me away from the questions gnawing at my insides, but not this time. Instead, I square my shoulders, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “Why were you and Atlas arguing,” I say, my voice sharper than I intended. “What aren’t you telling me, Gio?”
For a heartbeat, his smile falters. He reaches for my hand, trying to soothe me. “It’s nothing for you to worry about,” he says. “I’ll protect you. Don’t you trust me?”
“That’s not the point, Gio. Of course, I trust you. But this—” I narrow my eyes. “I want you to trust me too. I deserve to know what’s going on.”
He sighs, running a hand through his hair—stalling. “,” he starts, his voice almost pleading. “It’s complicated. Just know that I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“By keeping me ignorant?” I snap. “How is that supposed to help?”
His hands cup my face, the warmth of his palms steadying me, even as my heart beats out of control. “Trust me,” he whispers, his lips brushing my forehead, the gentleness almost undoing my anger. “Just a little while longer. Please.”
I want to keep fighting, to make him tell me everything, but the look in his eyes—the vulnerability, makes my resolve waver. I nod, reluctantly, and his lips curve into a small, relieved smile.
“Thank you,” he whispers, pulling me into his arms. I fall into the comfort of his embrace, trying to push away any lingering questions.
Then he pulls back, his smile turning playful. “How do you feel about skiing?”
“Skiing?”
“Yeah,” he says, his eyes brightening. “I owe you another date. Skiing was on your list, right?”
My suspicion flares. Why are we suddenly leaving? But before I can question it, the part of me that longs for escape takes over.
“When?”
He grins, already reaching for his phone. “Tomorrow.”
The next day, true to his word, we’re on our way to Wisconsin. The SUV glides through the snow-dusted landscape, the tension from Chicago fading with each mile. Skeletal trees wrapped in white blankets stand like fortresses as we pass by. Their branches hang low under the weight of the season. It’s peaceful here—so different from the constant noise of Chicago’s downtown.
Gio’s shoulders relax as he drives. He smiles more easily as we debate the merits of R&B music versus the Country ballads he prefers. I could almost believe that this trip is just what he said it is—another casual date. Another item to tick off my list. But the cars full of security personnel, both in front and behind, say otherwise.
When we pull up to the private mansion he’s rented, I exhale my surprise. The place is stunning—with wide windows overlooking the pristine, snow-covered grounds.
“This is beautiful,” I murmur, stepping inside and taking in the high ceilings, the warm wood, and the large windows framing the winter wonderland outside.
* * *
“Not as beautiful as you,” Gio says softly, wrapping his arms around me from behind. His breath is warm against my ear, and I snuggle my back to his chest and close my eyes. For the first time in days, I let myself forget the warning bells ringing in the back of my mind.
The day passes in a blur of skiing and laughter, the cold air biting at our faces as he spends more time digging me out of the snow than racing down the slopes. The guards are here, of course, but they hang back. Giving us the illusion of normalcy.
After dinner, a roaring fire, hot chocolate, and slow, sweet kisses chase away any remaining chill. Gio holds me on his lap, and his fingers lazily trace circles under my sweater. We are as peaceful as the snow that’s resumed falling outside. But as the fire crackles and the night deepens, Gio’s mood shifts. His expression turns serious. His eyes lock on the flames as if the words he’s about to say are too heavy to face me directly.
“,” he starts, his voice low, almost hesitant. “I need to ask you something.”
I set my mug down. “What is it?”
Car engines cut his response off, followed by angry, raised voices. Gio is on his feet instantly, his body snapping into alertness when he looks out the window. We’re in the middle of nowhere. Fifteen minutes from the closest resort or ski slope. What the…
His jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow when three black SUVs park in the driveway. Men in dark suits spill out of the cars, and at the center of them is a man with silver hair and eyes as sharp as ice.
“Stay here,” he orders. Giving me an, I’m not playing , look before he heads toward the door. We still have so much to learn about each other. Otherwise, he’d know I’m not about to sit still and let the world close collapse around me again.
I follow him.
Gio’s men join him on the porch. “Silvio,” Gio growls at the man approaching us with a sly look that’s colder than the frigid air.
Al Silvio, he’s the man determined to make me pay for my father’s crimes. Why is he here?
“Well, Gataki,” he says, pulling off his gloves as if he’s just finished a winter stroll. “Aren’t you going to invite me inside?”
“No. What are you doing here?” Gio asks, a muscle jumping in his jaw.
Silvio’s voice lowers several degrees in temperature. “The question is, what are you doing here? Were you running away?”
“I’m curious because that would negate our agreement. An agreement you haven’t honored unless you plan to marry in the next two days.”
He joins us on the porch, gesturing for his men to stand down. They do. But they keep their eyes trained on Gio’s men, and their hands hover inside their jackets. “Stay close,” Gio mutters, his hand gripping mine as we move toward the foyer.
When Silvio steps inside, a single mountain-sized man accompanies him, and Gio’s grip tightens. Silvio’s eyes sweep the room before settling on us, a slow, wintry smile curling at the edges of his lips. “Gio,” he says, his voice smooth but dripping with malice. “Did you really think you could take her out of town and I wouldn’t find you?”
“Where we go and what we do isn’t your concern.” Gio spits, his body vibrating with barely restrained fury. “Leave.”
Silvio’s gaze whips to me, and I fight the instinct to shrink back. “Oh, but it does concern me. You see, we had an agreement. Ten days, Gataki. I gave you ten days to seal the deal. And here we are—no wedding in sight.”
The words sucker punch the air from my lungs. “Ten days?” I repeat, my voice thin. “What is he talking about, Gio?”
Gio’s guilty eyes meet mine. “Everyone wanted me to force you into marriage, . I wanted to give you a choice. And you have one, no matter what he says, thinks, or does. The choice will always be yours.”
“A choice?” Silvio sneers, stepping forward. “There was never a choice. Her father’s debt—”
“My father is in prison,” I snap, the anger bubbling up inside me, burning away the fear. “He’s paid for what he did. What more do you want?”
Silvio glares at me. “Your father may be in prison, but his suffering isn’t complete. I was going to auction off, but the Gatakis wanted to play the hero and marry you to young Gio instead.”
My world shifts on its axis, the pieces falling into place with a sickening clarity. I turn to Gio, the betrayal twisting in my gut. “You knew about this? Knew there was a deadline and didn’t say anything?”
Gio’s eyes darken, his hands reaching for me, but I step back before he can touch me. The space between us feels like a chasm, too wide to cross. “I was going to tell you,” he says. “Fuck his deadline. You can take all the time you need to decide what you want to do. Anyway, I knew you wouldn’t choose his damn auction block.”
“So, you didn’t give me a choice, Gio. You decided for me and then lied to keep this from me. Even if you knew how I would answer, you still should have asked.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I never wanted to lie to you. I also didn’t want to pressure you. And I definitely didn’t want you marrying me because you were out of other choices.”
Silvio clears his throat, reminding us of his presence, though his expression shows more amusement than irritation. “As touching as this little scene is,” he says, his voice oozing condescension, “we still have business to discuss. Gio, you’ve had your fun, but it’s time to honor our agreement. If you won’t marry her, the girl comes with me.”
“I never agreed to send her with you. Because that’s never going to happen,” Gio growls, stepping in front of me again, his body a shield, his voice a low, deadly rumble. The room feels like it’s about to explode with the tension, both sides ready to draw weapons at the slightest spark. Our guards stand at attention, eyes darting between Silvio’s men and Gio, waiting for the command.
The pressure builds like a storm about to break. I can’t let that happen. Not when I can do something. “Stop,” I say, raising my voice above the testosterone. All eyes turn to me, and I take a breath, steadying myself. I face Gio as if we’re alone in our bedroom. Blocking everyone out of my periphery. “Do you want to marry me? You need to have a choice as well. Is this what you want? Not out of guilt. Not to save me. But because you want to spend the rest of your life with me.”
“I do,” he responds so simply that it sounds like vows. “This lifetime and every other… , I love you. You’re it for me.”
The raw honesty in his words hits me like a wave, and despite everything—despite the lies and the secrets—I feel my heart soften. But before I can speak, Silvio steps forward, his voice cutting through the moment like a knife.
“Enough,” he says, his tone hardening. “You’ve failed to hold up your end of the bargain, Gio. The girl comes with me now, or there will be consequences.”
Gio’s entire body tenses, his muscles coiling like a spring about to snap. “She’s not going anywhere with you,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “I don’t care about you or your threats. I’ll go to war before I let you take her.”
The room falls into a heavy silence, the kind that comes before something terrible happens. Silvio’s men reach for their weapons, and our guards do the same. My heart pounds in my chest, the air too thick, too sharp.
But then I hear my voice, strong and clear, slicing the tension. “I choose Gio.”
The words hang in the air, surprising even me. But as soon as they’re out, I know they’re true. I look at Gio, my voice steady. “I don’t care about debts or arrangements. I’m with Gio.” I squeeze his hand, “I do. In this lifetime and every other.”
Silvio’s face darkens, his eyes narrowing with cold fury. “This isn’t a game, girl,” he spits, his voice venomous. “There are consequences for defying me.”
“Then we’ll face them together,” Gio says, lifting my hand to his mouth for a kiss. His grip is warm and steady, and for the first time in days, I feel grounded and solid.
Atlas, who has been silent until now, steps forward, his posture casual, but a sharpness in his eyes doesn’t match the relaxed stance. “Let’s not do anything rash,” he says smoothly. “I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement. One that benefits everyone.”
Silvio’s eyes flick to Atlas, his anger tempered with curiosity. “And what could you possibly offer me that would make up for this insult?”
Atlas smiles—a slow, dangerous thing. “Exclusive rights to a shipping lane from Miami to Cuba,” he says, pausing for effect. “Complete with a certain uncharted island that might interest you.”
Silvio’s expression shifts, intrigue replacing fury. He strokes his chin thoughtfully. “An uncharted island, you say?”
Atlas nods. “It’s yours. Along with a clear path to move whatever you want without interference.”
Silvio considers the offer, his eyes narrowing as he weighs his options. Then, finally, he nods, though the tension doesn’t entirely leave his posture. “Fine,” he says, his voice measured. “But I’ll need proof. Details and logistics before the slate is clean.”
I blink, the words barely registering in the adrenaline haze still coursing through me. “I’m free?” I ask weakly, turning to Gio.
“If you want to be… Or you’re mine, and then I’m sorry, but you’ll never be free. Because you’ll never be free of me. Once again, the choice is yours.”
“Already chose, Gio. Weren’t you listening?”
He grins, and his smile is brighter than the slopes on a sunny day.
Before he can respond, something shifts in the air. A quiet conversation from outside the room catches Gio’s attention. Silvio’s voice floats through the hall, casual but cutting through the tension like a knife. “…and the docks need to be reinforced. The Gatakis never take their dock security seriously enough. That’s how their warehouse blew up all those years ago—the divers had a boat waiting, slipped the bombs in place, and swam off before anyone knew.”
The color drains from Gio’s face, his body going rigid beside me. I feel the tremor in his grip. “Gio?” I whisper, my chest tightening with sudden fear. “What’s wrong?”
But he’s already moving, his steps heavy, each filled with a growing rage that pulls me in its wake. He bursts onto the porch where Silvio stands, surrounded by his men. The cold fury in Gio’s voice freezes the air. “How do you know about that? About the divers and the bombs?”
Silvio glances at Gio, feigning confusion for a brief moment before his expression settles into something cruel and mocking. “Oh, that?” he says, his voice dripping with disdain. “The explosion that killed your brother? Yes, I know about it. In fact, I arranged it.”
Gio’s body trembles with rage, the revelation cutting him to his core. I watch in horror as the realization hits him, as the years of grief and anger twist into something feral, something unstoppable. His brother’s murder—everything he thought he knew about that night—has just shattered, and Silvio stands there, wearing a smirk that taunts every ounce of pain Gio has carried.
“You…” Gio’s voice is low, a dangerous growl. “You killed Lucas?”
Silvio’s smirk widens, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Clever boy. Yes, I had your brother killed. And now you’ve taken something precious from me. I’d say we’re even, wouldn’t you?”
There’s no time to react—no time to stop what’s coming. In one swift movement, Gio lunges, his fist crashing into Silvio’s jaw with a sickening crack. The older man’s head snaps back, blood spilling from his mouth as he stumbles. Before his men can even reach for their guns, Gio strikes again, this time sending Silvio crashing to the ground.
“Gio!” I shout, but he doesn’t hear me. His world has narrowed to this moment, to the man lying at his feet—the man who took his brother, the man who has haunted his nightmares.
With another furious blow, Gio drives his fist into Silvio’s face, his knuckles splitting open on the man’s bloodied skin. Silvio’s men stand frozen, too shocked to move, while Atlas rushes forward, grabbing Gio’s arm. But it’s too late. Silvio’s head lolls to the side, his body limp, blood pooling beneath him. He’s not getting up again.
Gio stares down at the lifeless body, his chest heaving, his hands shaking. “I… He killed Lucas. It doesn’t make any sense. He was just a fucking kid.” Atlas is holding him back, but he’s still raging. His fists swing wildly as he pushes at his cousin. He doesn’t stop. I don’t know if he can stop.
I move Atlas aside. He may not know the monster. I do. Placing my hand gently on his arm, I grab his chin and force him to look at me. “Gio, it’s over,” I whisper, my heart pounding. “It’s over.” I repeat it as many times as it takes for the monster to recede.
Gio looks at me, his eyes wild and filled with anguish and relief. “He killed Lucas, . He’s the reason my brother is dead.”
I nod, drawing him back from the edge, where he still teeters. “I know. But it’s done now. He won’t be taking anyone else.”
Silvio’s men are standing still, frozen in shock, as if waiting for someone to tell them what to do next. Atlas’s cold, sharp gaze settles on them. “Get out,” he says, his commanding voice unfreezes them. Are they really such mindless sheep? “Take him. We all know the man Al Silvio was. He was a brutal, cruel son of a bitch. You don’t accept a man’s payment on a debt and then demand his daughter. You don’t kill a man’s brother and then taunt him. He had this coming for a long time. His sons will want to have words with us. Tell him what his father said. He said a life for a life makes us even. If they disagree with that, then they can call us. We’ll go to war if that’s what they want.”
The biggest of the guards steps to Gio. “I’m Alphonse. I worked for him because he saw my sister at a wedding and threatened to harm her if I didn’t.” He waves to the group of men lifting the body. “Most of us have similar stories. He bound us to him with threats and violence. He was never an easy man. Most of us wanted to do the same. We’ll take him home.”
It’s our turn to watch in frozen shock as they leave. “It can’t be that easy, right?” I ask.
“Probably not,” Atlas agrees. “But if there’s trouble, we’ll be ready. Meanwhile, you two have a wedding to plan. Or did I misunderstand?”
Gio and I ignore him. Our world has shrunken down to each other. It’s as if we’re our own miniature snow globe, and someone has shaken a storm around us. “You don’t have to do this. Not anymore. If Al Silvio is out of our lives, you now have a choice. A choice that’s not based on guilt or fear or…”
He slams his lips on mine. Cutting my words off as his tongue wraps around mine. The scent, the taste, and the strength of his arms binding me to him—it all feels so right. But I don’t relax until he whispers into my kiss. “From the first time I saw you—there was never any choice.” My thoughts scramble, and I’m pulling the strings apart like Milo with a ball of yarn. “I love you, Reynolds. Love everything about you. I want to give you all your firsts. Take you on a million dates and cherish you through all those lifetimes. You only need to say yes.”
“It depends,” I say through my sniffles. “If you get to bring your monster, I get to bring my cat.”
He gives an exaggerated groan before trying, “Maybe we can get rid of both.”
I gasp, “Absolutely not. I love the monster, so you’ll have to love Milo.”
He wraps me in his arms again, shielding me from the cold, trying to seep into my bones now that the adrenaline has worn off, and says, “Deal.” He kisses me again, and through the rapidly brewing haze of lust, his fingers find mine in a pinky swear.