5. Gio
GIO
Inside, everything—everyone—is gorgeous. From the couture clothing and expensive jewels to the elegant marble, bespoke furniture, and lush flower arrangements.
It’s all exactly as I envisioned. Exactly as it should be.
Flawless.
The polar opposite of my disheveled bride. And, as she predicted, people are staring. Partially because of her appearance, but primarily because she’s with me.
Merda.
Bringing her here is an inconvenient deviation from my plan. Not irreparable, but I already know it’s going to prove fucking irritating.
I haven’t been seen in public with a woman in years. Not like this. Viviana is in one of my properties, guarded by me and Vampa, clearly under our protection. And wearing a wedding ring.
It’s as blatant a declaration as a Marchetti would make, more than enough to set the rumor mills whirring. Christ, they might just explode.
Lucia is going to explode when she finds out. She’s been trying to worm her way into my bed for months. It doesn’t matter to her that she’s married, or that she’s a business partner.
Once she catches wind of the Viviana development, there’s no telling what kind of drama she’ll cause when she and her husband come to the villa in two weeks.
Lucia Romano is noxious at the best of times.
When provoked, she’s downright toxic. If it wasn’t for the fact that her father-in-law, the late Signor Romano, was a lifelong friend of my father’s, I wouldn’t have let Lucia and Edoardo Romano within a million kilometers of this project.
But Edoardo Romano begged. And bartered on our family’s longstanding history.
And capitalized on the fucked-up state my head was in at the time.
I relented. I cut them in.
I’ve regretted it ever since. He and his wife are loose-lipped and unreliable. Lucia is prone to malicious fits of jealousy. I’m going to have to keep a close eye on her now that Viviana is here.
We reach the entrance to the club, Eclipse. My wife is silent, head down. I don’t have the bandwidth to wonder if it’s an act or if she’s just too tired to cause trouble.
I need to find Elio, get his update, get us back to the island.
Inside the club, I find him in an animated conversation with one of the security guards.
Viviana shuffles to a stop beside me, eyes half-closed and glued to the floor.
Her right hand is in the pocket of her sweatpants, her small fist visible through the fabric as she grips whatever she’s got in there.
She looks like she’s going to pass out. That can’t happen. It will only delay our return to the island further.
“You need to eat.” I point Viviana toward one of the banquettes against a far wall. “Sit there. Don’t move.”
Vampa has joined Elio and the security guard, the trio clustered in hushed conversation near the bar. The guard is talking, gesturing agitatedly as I approach. As soon as he sees me, his mouth slams shut, his arms falling limply to his sides.
Elio opens his mouth to speak.
I silence him with a raised hand, ordering the staff member hovering behind the bar to find my wife some food.
If any employees within earshot are surprised by the words my wife, they don’t dare show it.
Vampa and I are the only ones who know the real reason I stood in that church and exchanged vows with the oldest Salviati daughter. We’re the only ones who know her true value to the Marchetti family.
To the rest of the world, she is simply my wife. For the sake of optics, she’ll be treated as such. For my men, it means protecting her with their lives, no questions asked. Which is critical, since my plans require she stay breathing.
My men and I stand silent as my order ripples across the room, the bartender rushing to a manager who rushes to the kitchen and, moments later, is presenting Viviana with a plate of food worthy of the Alba Dorata name.
As soon as the first bite reaches her lips, I expel her from my mind and level a hard glare at Elio. “Pronto. What’s so urgent I needed to come here instead of where I’m supposed to be? At home, with my new bride.”
There’s enough venom in those last three words to make even the most blood-thirsty man flinch.
Elio, the cocky fuck, doesn’t bat an eyelash. Maybe Vampa is right. Maybe this kid does have the balls required to eventually fill the role of underboss.
“Chiedo scusa, Capo,” Elio answers more calmly than I’d like. “I wouldn’t have requested your presence, Signore, except Vampa has been clear that when it comes to certain matters, you insist on seeing the proof yourself.”
Fuck. The kid is right.
Evidence can be tampered with. Witnesses coerced. Photos, videos, and reports altered.
So, I trust what I can see with my own eyes. Second to that, I trust Vampa.
Everything else is hearsay until proven otherwise.
One time—one time—I was careless enough to ignore the evidence staring me in the face. So desperate to avoid the truth, I clung to the lies people told me.
The consequences were cataclysmic. I vowed I’d never make that mistake again.
“Fine.” I keep my expression controlled, smothering the begrudging respect I feel growing for Vampa’s protege. “Show me.”
To Vampa, I say, “You stay here. Do not let Signora Marchetti out of your sight.”
Elio and I leave him in the cavernous room that will soon be the pulsing heart of the club, exiting into the hotel’s back of house. We wind through the maze of hallways until Elio stops at one of the storage rooms.
From the outside, everything looks normal. Inside, I release a hiss, an audible sign of fury I’m too tired to repress. “Vaffancuolo.”
The room is stacked with hundreds of cases of champagne. Each bottle retails for more than €50,000. An absolute fortune shattered and splattered all over the storage room’s floor.
That’s not what has me seeing red.
It’s the five hundred kilos of cocaine that’ve been stolen from the false bottoms of the champagne cases. An incalculable fortune taken from my own fucking property.
Slowly, I pull Elio toward me, forcing him to tip his head up that final inch and look me in the eyes. I keep my voice low, controlled. Inside, I’m absolutely seething. “Where the fuck did it go?”
The kid has the good sense to look scared.
Finally. “I know when it was last accounted for, and I know when it was discovered missing. But in between…” He doesn’t look away, but the tension in his neck telegraphs how terrified he is to admit the truth.
“I checked all the security footage. There’s no sign of anyone accessing this room, let alone stealing the product. ”
I release him on another hiss.
He falls back, hauling in a breath.
“You’re going to find out who did this, Castiglione, and you’re going to bring them to me. No one steals from the Marchettis and lives long enough to profit from it, do you understand?”
“Sì, Capobastone.” All his bravado is gone. But it isn’t fear that’s taken its place. It’s cold determination. “Sì. I understand.”