7. Gio
GIO
Tonight has taken a serious fucking nosedive.
I shift in the helicopter’s cream leather seat, glancing at where Viviana’s cradling her hands in her lap. At the bandage wrapped around her palm.
Che cazzo! We were in the club for less than an hour and she walks out bleeding.
This is the vicious woman I married? The woman responsible for at least three deaths that I know of?
Sedatives and jet lag notwithstanding, something about her feels…off.
In our first twenty-four hours together, Viviana has fainted, gotten into a physical altercation in a toilet, and embedded a huge hunk of glass in her hand. A worrisome series of events that can’t turn into a trend.
I spin the ring on my pinky finger and survey her more thoroughly.
Without the froth of that ridiculous wedding dress, I can see her body more clearly.
She’s significantly shorter than me, smaller in scale too, but not frail.
She’s exhausted, but she holds herself steady, all her emotions concealed behind a stoic expression.
And despite recent events, she’s calm. Controlled.
Amazingly composed. Especially, I’m realizing, for someone so young.
My attention snags on her soft lips, the generous curves of her chest. It takes me longer than it should to realize I’m staring.
Inwardly, I curse. Force myself to finish my appraisal.
No, my new wife doesn’t give the impression of being clumsy or accident-prone. Which tracks, given what I know about her history. She’s more than capable of causing damage to others, but I don’t believe she’s a general threat to herself.
Besides, I remind myself, her movements on the island will be extremely limited. Her room as good as a cage. On the rare occasions she needs to come out, she’ll be guarded by my men.
Nothing will happen to Viviana before the exchange. I have this under control. The plan is going to work.
It has to. The alternative is unacceptable.
With renewed confidence, I sink into my seat and try to relax.
I can’t.
Vaffanculo. I have her. I haven’t left any loose ends in Chicago. Everything is progressing as it should. I can’t waste any more mental energy on this woman. I have bigger things to focus on, the theft of the cocaine top amongst them.
I replay my conversation with Elio, mentally tabulating number after number.
The hit our bottom line will take if he doesn’t recover the narcotics.
The bodies that will pile up.
The number of days until the club’s opening, when my distributors are scheduled to collect the merchandise.
The number of breaths it took to regain control and not commit homicide when I learned Vampa had left Viviana alone.
Fuck! If the woman has to pee in a public place, she can do it with a goddamn chaperone!
I flick my eyes back to Viviana’s lap. To the faint reddish stain seeping through the bandage. She didn’t flinch when I pulled the glass from her palm. Or make a sound when I cleaned and bandaged the wound.
With her soft exterior and angelic face, a casual observer would be surprised to know what a hard little creature she is.
She hides her true character well, smothering it in lush skin and wide doll eyes, but it’s there.
That ruthlessness that tipped over the first domino, capsizing countless more until we both ended up here.
But then…what the fuck was that back in the hotel?
The whole situation is nagging me, especially because I fucked-up and did the one thing I never do. I got visibly mad. And I unintentionally gave Viviana an opportunity to use that mistake against me.
Any ‘Ndrangheta princess would’ve.
She could’ve blamed everything on the other woman, could’ve sacrificed that hapless creature to my unleashed temper, capitalized on my distraction, and tried to escape.
At minimum, I expected Viviana to be violent, lash out. Strike back.
Instead, my new wife diffused the situation quietly, almost effortlessly, and set the other woman free. Surprise number one.
Surprise number two, and the one I’m finding harder to explain: my reaction to seeing Viviana bleed.
I haven’t felt a surge of rage like that in a long time. One that was so primal, so intense I struggled to smother it fast enough.
Protectiveness in a mutated, selfish form.
It’s not because I care what happens to her, I tell myself. It’s because my family’s future depends on the success of this plan.
I touch the ring on my hand, letting memories push through the chaos in my brain, grounding me in my present.
I know what I need to do. I will handle this. Including any surprises my new bride throws my way.
We touch down on the island’s helipad. I’m out of the helo before the pilot has a chance to open my door. I corral Viviana, and Vampa falls into step behind us.
From the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of red hair. It’s come entirely undone, falling to her hips in long waves. I’m hit by a sudden urge to know if it’s as soft as it looks.
I shove my hands in my pockets, cursing silently. Christ. This trip has taken more out of me than I realized. I’m a stranger in my own head.
As we approach the villa, I start to feel more like myself. The honeyed scent of jasmine fills the late-night air. Stars blink high above us. A small army of heavily armed men is patrolling the rocky island that is my personal fortress—and Viviana’s new home.
Cypress trees line the path that leads to the main structure, a Mediterranean villa of palatial proportions. It’s my sanctuary away from the kingdom I rule on the mainland and beyond.
We reach the terraced steps that lead to the main part of the building. In front of me, cream stuccoed arches, wrought iron balconies, and terracotta-tiled gables stretch high and wide.
Beside me, Viviana sucks in a breath.
I pick up my pace, making it impossible for her to slow down and appreciate the view.
“Is this where you live?” The question reaches me from somewhere below my shoulder.
“Sì.”
“Is this where I live?”
“Sì. Certo.” Obviously.
Whatever Viviana says next is stolen by the breeze. Her footsteps are tired as she follows me through the main double doors, between the billowing white curtains, and across the grand entrance hall to the wide curved stairs that lead up three flights to the top floor.
As a trio, we ascend, not stopping until we reach our destination. I gesture to Vampa to wait outside. Without letting her catch her breath, I swing open the door and usher Viviana into her room. “Welcome to the Villa d'Osso.”
I have no idea what she was expecting, but I doubt it’s this.
The bedroom is large, like all the rooms in the villa, but this one is sparsely furnished. I had all of the original furniture removed, replaced by a narrow bed, a rickety nightstand, and a banged-up old wardrobe and chest of drawers.
The only light comes from the single lamp next to the bed, the weak glow barely making a dent in the gloom.
During the day, the trio of large windows will let in the daylight. Right now the only thing seeping through is a hint of a breeze and the sound of waves crashing on the rocks below.
“This is where I’m sleeping?” Viviana loiters in the doorframe.
“Sì.”
Her eyes land on the bed. It’s a single, barely wide enough for one adult, let alone two. “Alone?”
“Sì.” Always.
She nods. I can’t tell if she’s relieved to be sleeping alone or pissed that I’m relegating her to a spartan corner of an otherwise luxurious villa.
Not that I care one way or the other.
We’re both silent as she wanders toward the bed. She presses one hand against the mattress. It’s so hard it barely gives under the pressure.
I’m trying to be detached—I swear on my parents’ graves I am—but I can’t help but feel a prick of surprise as resignation drops over my new wife like a shield.
She’s not going to yell or protest or beg.
She’s not going to curse me for putting her in such a dismal room, for denying her the palace any newly crowned queen would demand.
She’s not going to fight at all.
Instead, she turns to me, exhaustion making her unsteady. “Is there an en suite? Or do I need to go down the hall to bathe and use the toilet?”
“You have your own toilet and bathing facilities. Through there.” Her eyes follow my finger, past the bed to where there’s an opening in the wall. The bathroom, such as it is, lies beyond. “And there are clean clothes in the wardrobe.”
“I see.” She sags against the hard mattress. “Thank you.” It’s reflexive, not genuine.
I feel a grim smile form. “It’s the least I can do. Especially as you won’t be leaving this room.”
“What?” Shock overrides her exhaustion. “What do you mean I’m not leaving? Like, ever?”
“Exactly. This isn’t just where you’ll be sleeping, Viviana. This is where you’ll be living, full stop.”
“For how long?”
“Until I say so.” She’s getting paler and paler. I try to remember how much she ate at the hotel. “I’ll have food delivered. You need to eat, keep your strength up.”
“I don’t want you to have food delivered,” she says, voice breaking. “I want to leave. Pl-please…”
If I wasn’t the man I am—if she hadn’t done the things she’s done—her broken plea would be heartbreaking.
“Please don’t keep me in here.” Tears drip down her cheeks. And, fuck me, they actually look real. “Please don’t lock me in. I can’t—I can’t just stay in here. I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?”
I sigh, ready for this entire night to be over. Our conversation has already taken too long. She’s a critical means to an all-important end, and the last person I want to spend any time with.
I ignore Viviana’s question. Remind myself her tears mean nothing. “Your meals will be delivered on a schedule. There will always be a guard posted at your door. Don’t try to escape via the windows. You won’t survive the fall or the rocky cliffs below.”
I point at a house phone sitting on the floor next to the nightstand. There wasn’t space for it on the pockmarked surface. “If you need anything else, use that. It’s connected to the in-house communication system. Someone on staff will answer and provide the items requested. Within reason.”
She’s gone so pale I’m not sure there’s any blood left in her face. “Within reason?”
“Books. Writing materials. Things to pass the time. No cell phones, no computers. No electronic devices of any kind.”
She blinks, clearly struggling to understand what’s going on. If I wasn’t so tired, I’d wonder why any of this comes as a shock. She had to know retribution would come for her eventually.
She had to have known. No one born into our world is that naive.
It’s a hard line to swallow when she stares at me, eyes bloodshot and brimming with more tears. She looks terrified. So completely alone.
Focus, Giovanni. Remember who you are doing this for. Remember what your innocent-looking wife did.
“Get comfortable, Viviana. This is your life now. As Mrs. Marchetti, the newest resident of l’Isola di Lisca Bianca.”
Without another word, I leave, lock the door, and pocket the key.