33. Gio
GIO
It’s irrefutable. I’m obsessed with my wife.
A month ago, the idea would’ve been unthinkable.
Me? The emotionless, cold-blooded, pathologically rigid capo of the Marchetti crime family besotted with a kind, delightful, stunning, defiantly strong-willed woman seventeen years younger than me?
A woman I married out of pure calculation, not a single soft feeling in my heart.
Fuck. At the time, as far as I was concerned, I didn’t even have one.
Now, as I escort Vivi down the stairs into the villa’s grand entrance hall, the glow from hundreds of candles shimmering off her gold dress and sparkling in her blue eyes, I can feel it swelling in my chest. That long-ignored organ struggling to contain the adoration and pride that consume me every time I look at her.
She is mine. A certainty that brings a stability I’ve been looking for my entire life. A purpose that will turn my regimented and ruthless existence into something worth living.
Because that is what I feel with Vivi: alive. Terrified of losing her, insanely feral with the need to pleasure her every way imaginable, dangerously obsessed with the vision of her pregnant with our child, and heart-poundingly, gut-wrenchingly, soul-alteringly alive.
In a way I never allowed myself to think would be possible, especially not after my sister died.
Losing Giulia changed me forever. She was my little sister, and I couldn’t protect her. Now, my unwavering focus must be on protecting Giulia’s daughter.
But I have to make room in my world—in my life—for Vivi, too. Have to protect her just as much. The alternative is unimaginable.
I can’t let myself think about what would’ve happened if Signor Pazzi hadn’t had his accident when he did. If the hand-off had gone through as planned, and I’d turned Vivi over to that monster so he could punish her for a crime she neither knowingly nor willingly committed.
Fuck.
I catch a toe on the stairs, grabbing the bannister before I trip. Vivi pauses, looks up at me. She’s relaxed, with a glint in her eyes that’s new. It looks like cautious excitement, maybe even the start of something like happiness.
And I’m going to have to be the bastard who tells her that her memories of what happened in Sant’Angelo are incomplete.
It wasn’t an accident; she was involved in an assassination.
In Vivi’s mind, it won’t matter that she didn’t know. That it was entirely unintentional on her part. She’ll blame herself, just like she blames herself for the death of Millie and her mother.
Any guilt I felt about saving the truth until after her birthday evaporates.
She’s been through so much. She needs fun, joy. Pleasure.
And I need her to meet Aurora.
If there’s any chance we’re going to have a genuine relationship, Vivi needs to meet my niece and understand that, whatever happens, Aurora will always be one of the single most important parts of my life.
Grim reality can wait for tomorrow. Tonight, we have celebrating to do.
We reach the ground floor. Vivi is looking at all the candles and flowers in wonderment. “What is all this?”
“Come on.” I lead her through the villa until we reach the dining room.
The same one where the disastrous luncheon with the Romanos took place.
Like that day, the French doors along both walls are flung open, allowing the breeze to travel through, sending the candlelight dancing down the length of the table.
That’s where the similarities end.
Tonight, musicians from a local village are playing in one corner, classic local songs that remind me of running through piazzas as a child, face sticky with gelato as Giulia and I chased each other around the fountain, splashing each other until we were soaked through.
Beneath the lilting strands, the sound of the waves hitting the cliffs is audible but muted.
Jasmine and bougainvillea catch a ride through the room on cool currents of air, a sweetness that’s the perfect counterpoint to the scent of garlic and olive oil that rises from the buffet that spreads along one wall of the room.
An array of stuzzichini that are the precursors to dinner.
Many of Vivi’s favorites. Some of Aurora’s, too.
A group of people is gathered near the table, deep in friendly conversation.
They’re all dressed impeccably, turned out for the occasion.
Women in silky dresses. Men in suits. And, between their legs, a little girl with long dark curls is running, erupting into that laughter that always makes me smile no matter how foul my mood.
Tonight, the joy it elicits is bittersweet. I’m so happy to have Aurora back on the island; I’ve missed her more than I realized. But until the arrangement with Pazzi is put to bed, there’s a shadow trailing wherever she goes.
Aurora has turned one of Vampa’s legs into a carnival ride.
She’s got both hands wrapped above his knee, her patent-leather shoes planted firm to the floor, and she’s leaning back, arms stretched, as she swings herself, left and right, a pendulum powered by childhood energy and a party-induced sugar high.
Her swinging comes to an abrupt stop when she sees me. She jerks to a halt, Vampa’s hand darting out to keep her steady. Then she’s running at me, a pandemonium of giggles and sparkly leggings. “Papà! Papà Gio!”
I let go of Vivi’s hand just in time to catch the little girl as she flings her tiny body against me. I haul her up into a hug, pressing my nose into her hair and getting a hit of her scent that wraps a fist around my heart, without fail, every time.
She’s got me in a full-body hug; arms around my neck, legs around my waist. Leaning back so she can get a good look at me, Aurora scrunches up her nose. “This is a party,” she states. “You can’t come to a party.”
“I can’t?”
“No. You can’t.” She shakes her head, curls dancing around her shoulders and back.
I look at her with disappointment. “Why can’t I come to a party?”
“Because you lied. And lying is bad. And if we’re bad, we don’t get parties.”
My pout is genuine. “What did I lie about?”
Aurora’s eyes narrow. Such an adult expression on such a little face. “You said I would only be gone for three weeks of summer. I was gone way more than that.”
Her lips form an endearing pout, but there are tears caught in her lower lashes, and I pull her tight against my body, tucking her little head against my neck.
“I’m so sorry, stella mia. I’m sorry I sent you away for so long.
I didn’t want to, I promise. I just wanted to be sure that the nasty turtle snatchers weren’t going to get their hands on Lulù. Like we talked about.”
Her frown turns defiant. “They can’t have Lulù! He won’t like living with them. He only lives living with me!”
“Exactly, Ro.” I tuck a curl behind her ear, hoping she hears the truth in my voice. “Do you remember what I told you when you first came to live with me? About what my number one job is?”
“Sì, papà,” she answers, still so serious. “That now that you’re my papa, your number one job is keeping me safe.”
“ Sì, esatto. That’s why you and Lulù stayed with Alik and Sera for so long. To keep you both safe until I’m sure the nasty men are gone.”
“Are they?”
“Almost, Ro. Almost.”
“Almost and yes are not the same.” Her tiny brow is furrowed. “Does that mean Lulù and I have to go away again?”
“No, sweet pea. Not again. A few things have changed, and Alik and I agree that you and Lulù are safest on the island. So you are both back for good.”
Aurora blinks, long lashes fluttering as she thinks about what I’ve said. “The nasty turtle snatchers won’t get us here?”
“I will do everything in my power to stop them, Ro. I will always do what’s necessary to keep you safe.” Not exactly a yes, but I don’t want to lie to her. Children always remember when you lie.
“And Lulù? He’s safe too?” From the pocket of her dress, Aurora retrieves her well-loved stuffed miniature turtle.
I nod solemnly. “You and Lulù. Alik and Sera, Dimitri, Vampa, Elio, and me—we’re all here to make sure of that.”
“Okay.” She nods once, before darting her eyes suspiciously in Vivi’s direction. “And what about her?”
My heart does a full cartwheel in my chest, and I realize I’m nervous.
I’ve collected debts in the form of blood and money across six of the seven continents, yet there’s a weird humming in my ears I’ve never experienced before.
Having Vivi and Aurora like each other is suddenly the most important thing in the world.
“Sì, sweet pea. Her, too. Her name is Viviana. Can I introduce you?”
Aurora looks between Vivi and me, expression somber. She nods once and wiggles until I put her down. Once on her feet, she takes two very determined steps and stops right in front of my wife. The little girl thrusts out her hand, “Buonasera. I’m Aurora. Ro for short.”
Vivi is looking between Aurora and me with something stuck between confusion and amazement. I palm her lower back, keeping us both steady. Give what I hope is an encouraging smile.
And Vivi, to my amazement, breaks into the biggest smile I’ve ever seen.
Not caring one bit about her dress, she crouches down, lowering herself to Aurora’s height, and wraps the little girl’s hand in one of her own.
“Hello, Aurora, Ro for short. I’m delighted to meet you.
I’m Viviana.” Her voice is unadulterated warmth.
“But you can call me Vivi if you’d like. ”
Aurora cocks one imperious eyebrow before moving their arms in an exaggerated shake. Then she holds up her stuffed animal. “This is Lulù. He’s a green sea turtle. Do you like turtles?”
Vivi tilts her head. “I’ve only met three turtles in my life. All of them have been very nice. So, yes, I can confirm that I like turtles.”
Aurora smiles at her. Hesitant, hopeful.
Like she thinks she might’ve just found a friend.
With all the tragedies and threats she’s faced in her young life, she could really use more.
“That’s good. Lulù is hungry. He likes tomatoes.
We have a lot of those.” She points at the platters of food spread out behind her. “Do you want to eat tomatoes with us?”
Vivi’s grin is so wide it might split her face. “I would love to. Please,” she waves ahead. “You and Lulù lead the way.”