46. Gio
GIO
All hell has broken loose across the island. I need to focus, regain control—and all I can fucking do is think about my wife.
I told her I love her. In front of a fucking audience while her ex-fiancè was bleeding all over my floor.
She knows why I brought her here.
She knows Tino was never dead.
No wonder she ran away. It’s enough to fuck with anyone’s head. To seed doubt.
That’s what I saw when she tore away from our kiss, blinking up at me with her gorgeous eyes. Doubt.
“Vanffanculo!”
In one motion, approximately a dozen heads whip in my direction. Vampa gives me a warning look. One that clearly says, Keep it together, you asshole.
Fuck. I am fucking keeping it together.
I glare at my underboss; he’s swiping through screen after screen of security feeds on a tablet. “Where the fuck is Elio?” I demand. “He needs to be here. Needs to track down the traitor behind this clusterfuck of a mess.”
“He got a call,” Vampa answers without looking up. “Urgent. He’ll be back shortly.”
“He better fucking be.”
Vampa is about to say something else when Ginevra Pazzi crosses the foyer, carefully stepping around the pool of Tino’s blood that still needs to be cleaned up. “Before I leave, I wanted to thank you, Giovanni. For what you’ve done for my family.”
I curb the impulse to tell her to fuck off, wrangling enough composure to give her a rough nod. “Just stick to the terms of our agreement, Signora. That’s thanks enough.”
“Si. Certo. But that’s not what I meant.
” She touches my arm, her features softening.
“I was talking about Francesca. Thank you for taking her in when you did. She needed to get away from her father, especially after Matteo died. I’d done everything I could think of, but it wasn’t enough.
And then you welcomed her here…” Her smile is sad. “Anyway. Thank you.”
“Prego. Aurora loves her aunt. And I’ve become fond of her, too. She’s a good woman, Ginevra. A little hard around the edges, but devoted to the people she loves.”
The signora flushes, glancing away. Looks like she’s holding back tears.
“That’s lovely to hear. I wasn’t sure…well, I—” She cuts herself off, oddly flustered.
“I wasn’t sure she’d be able to be affectionate with people.
Not after what her brother did. I tried to stop him, I swear, but his father always intervened. Always let him get away with it.”
She fidgets with a button on her jacket, cursing herself. “That’s a lie. I could’ve done more. Should’ve done more. For her and your sister.” She’s talking more to herself than me, but the reference to Giulia sharpens my attention.
“Did you know what Matteo was doing to Giulia? That he was beating her?”
Ginevra’s face fills with horror, shame, and in that moment I hate her more than her husband and son combined.
“Not at first,” she confesses. “Not for sure. But I knew what a monster my son was. Knew it from the moment Francesca arrived. It didn’t matter what punishments I gave him, what consequences I doled out, Matteo wouldn’t change. He was too much like his father. Protected too much by his father.”
Her face is pale as she risks a glance at me.
“I’ve known for a long time that I failed as his mother.
That I failed him, Francesca, and ultimately Giulia.
I know I’ll rot in hell for all the things I wasn’t able to stop him from doing.
There’s not going to be any forgiveness for me, on earth or after death.
I guess that’s why once I decided to kill him, I didn’t hesitate.
It was too little, too late. But it still needed to be done. ”
“You mean, you’re the reason Gennaro got flung from his horse?”
Signora Pazzi’s expression goes blank before she realizes what I’m asking.
“Oh, yes. My husband and his horseback riding accident,” she confirms. “He was a shit rider. It was easy to spook his horse, get him thrown. I was hoping he’d just snap his neck and put us out of our misery, but that bastardo never did make anything easy.
Needed a medically induced coma, of all things.
” She’s clearly pissed at him, even now.
“It became tedious. As I said to Chesca, my husband needed to go. So I pulled the plug. But that’s not what I was talking about. ”
She lowers her voice. “I was talking about Matteo. I was referring to the hit I put out on my son.”
Her confession is a sharp shot to the chest, one I barely have time to recover from before Elio comes striding over. He’s holding his phone so hard there’s a solid chance it’s going to crack.
His attention lands on Signora Pazzi before darting to me. “Signore. Capo. We need to talk. Now.”
I follow him to the quietest corner of the foyer. “What?”
“Do you remember the death certificates you asked me to track down? The ones for Theresa and Millie Russo?”
Seriously? I kill the impulse to hit him. “Yes, obviously, but now isn’t the fucking time, Elio?—”
“It is. Absolutely, it is. I found one for Theresa Russo, but not the daughter. Instead, I found this.” Elio shoves his phone in my face. On the screen is some sort of official document. The text is tiny, near illegible.
“What the fuck am I looking at?”
He pinches the screen with two fingers, zooms in. “Adoption records.”
Between the sedative Tino pushed into my veins and the ramifications of everything that’s happened since, my brain isn’t moving fast enough to keep up with what Elio is telling me.
“Fucking hell, Castiglione—whose adoption records?”
“Mille Russo. Or, as she became, Francesca Pazzi.”
I stare at Elio, barely processing. “Millie isn’t dead.”
“No.”
“She was adopted.”
“Yes.”
“By the Pazzis.”
“Eventually, yes.” Elio points to some blurry spot on his phone. “She spent a year in an orphanage outside of Rome before being adopted by the Pazzis. They changed her name, gave her a new identity.”
“And a father and brother who were vicious animals, and a mother who couldn’t protect her.”
I’m horrified, for Francesca, for what she’s been through, before a worse realization hits.
I grab Elio. “That rock. Vivi’s silly little stone. She had it with her at the party last night. She took it out, showed it to Aurora. But everyone saw it, didn’t they? Everyone saw.”
Now Elio is the one who doesn’t understand. But I don’t have time to explain. I rush over to Ginevra. “Is Francesca adopted?”
“Yes. That’s what I was trying to say. About Matteo.
What he did to that poor girl. They weren’t related by blood.
” Her voice carries a foul urgency. “Don’t you see?
She wasn’t his biological sister, which is why my husband looked the other way when Matteo became obsessed with her.
Breaking into her room at night. Touching her. ”
“You mean raping her.”
Ginevra doesn’t blanch. Doesn’t look away. But I see what’s left of her heart shrivel, die. “Like I said, Giovanni. There’s no redemption for me. Gennaro and Matteo both needed to die. I’m just sorry I waited so long to do it.”
Signora Pazzi has just confessed to killing her son. Of issuing the hit, the car bomb at the root of this entire fucking disaster. I shake her. “But where is Francesca? I saw her leave the villa, head toward the helipad with the guards and Tino. Is she still down there?”
“What? No,” her mother answers. “She came back about fifteen minutes ago. Something about needing to say goodbye.”
Vivi.
I’m taking the stairs three at a time, cursing that I can’t go any faster.
Francesca is upstairs with Vivi, confronting the woman who claimed the role she’s always wanted: my wife.
Millie is upstairs with Ana, confronting the little girl she no doubt holds responsible for the death of her mother and her life of torture with the Pazzis.
My skull is screaming, and my lungs are burning, and I’m nearly sick on the stairs because I might be too late.
Please, God, let me not be too late.
Footsteps pound behind me. Vampa. Elio. A handful of other guards who woke from their sedation relatively unscathed. Ginevra behind them.
I say another quick prayer for the fact that Sera and Alik took Aurora back to their room for more rest. The second they saw Tino’s bloody body on the ground floor, Alik gestured that they were going back up and I gave him the go-ahead.
Dimitri is guarding their room. That man has been shot more times than anyone can count and is still standing; he’ll keep the three of them safe.
I’m the first to reach Vivi’s door. It’s closed. I’m reaching for the handle as Vampa and Elio fall into place behind me. I signal for silence. Try the knob.
No luck. Locked from the inside.
But as long as the key isn’t still in the lock, we can pick it open.
Vampa drops to his knees, doing exactly that as Elio and I take up positions on either side of the entrance.
I don’t let myself meet the other man’s eyes. Don’t let myself think about what we might find on the other side.
She has to be alive. Please, please let her be alive.
A million recriminating thoughts try to hit me at once. The things I should’ve done, should’ve said. The ways I could’ve loved her more, better, sooner than I did. They creep closer, determined to derail my focus. But I won’t let it happen.
I love Vivi. Love her in a way that’s different from anything I’ve experienced before.
I love Aurora, Giulia, my parents. Vampa, even. And my men, in their own way. Would give my life for any of them.
The shape of what I feel for Vivi is something else entirely. So vast I can’t see the edges, so deep it underlies every thought and breath I have.
I would die for her. In a heartbeat. No hesitation.
But I also can’t live without her. I’ve been hollow for so long, restrained, monotone, a cardboard cutout of a man. Not living, breathing flesh and blood.
Vivi has changed that. Animated parts of me that have been dormant my entire life. Without her, I won’t just languish. I’ll vanish, like I was never here to begin with.
A soft snick sounds.
Vampa’s unlocked the door. Elio and Vampa draw their weapons, but I leave mine concealed. Francesca will know it’s there, but I don’t want her seeing it. Freaking out.
I look at my men. “You two, stay here. No shots fired unless absolutely necessary.”
They nod.
I twist the doorknob, enter the room, and am hit with two competing emotions.
Relief that Vivi is alive and, from what I can see, unharmed.
And pure fear when I see that Francesca is backing her toward the windows.
The glass panes are latched, but one good push and my wife will go through. She’ll be gone. Dead on the rocks, swept away by the sea.
Vivi knows it. I clock the tension in her frame, the agitation pulling at her features as she tries to stand her ground, arms outstretched.
She hasn’t noticed me yet.
Neither has Francesca. She’s talking, her voice an endless hiss I’ve never heard from her before.
“I just wanted Tino to take you and leave. I didn’t know he killed Matteo.
Fuck, if I’d known that, I would’ve broken him out of the cells much sooner.
But as it is…he was useful. Or he would’ve been if he hadn’t fucked the whole thing up.
He must’ve messed with the timers on the smoke bombs, because they went off too soon.
I didn’t have a chance to distract Gio, keep him away from the chapel.
And Tino was never supposed to drug Gio. The syringe was for you, not him.”
Her guilt slips through. Francesca is upset he tried to hurt me. It’s the best opening I’m going to get.
“I’m fine, Francesca. He didn’t do any damage.”
At my voice, both women give me their full attention.
Vivi is still against the windows.
Francesca has turned, is looking at me.
I wait for Vivi to move. Run. It takes me a beat too long to realize why she doesn’t.
Francesca is armed. The muzzle of a Beretta aimed at my wife’s heart.
“Gio.” Francesca says my name with such a deep longing it causes actual pain.
“Give me the gun, Francesca. You don’t want to do this.”
Sad eyes find mine. “You’re right. I don’t. But you haven’t given me any choice.” A tear slips down her face. “She can’t have you. Not after what she’s done. What she did to me when we were kids.”
“Oh, Chesca.” Ginevra has slipped past Elio and Vampa, her arms outstretched toward her daughter. “Vivi hasn’t done anything. Put the gun away, darling, so we can go home.”
Francesca shakes her head, eyeing me. “No, mamma. Gio won’t let me go home. Not now.”
“I will,” I promise. “No one is dead, no one we care about is injured. It’s over now, Francesca. Leave. I won’t stop you. No one will get in your way. Go with your mother, while you still can.”
“And Ro? What do I do about Ro?”
Understanding hits. She’s never going to be able to leave Aurora. Not forever.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “You’re her aunt. She loves you. But we can’t let her see you like this. You need rest, help. Then, when you’re feeling better, maybe we can find a way for you to see Aurora again.”
It’s not a lie. It’s not the right thing to say, either.
Whatever composure Francesca’s been clinging to snaps. “You can’t take her from me,” she cries. “I can’t lose her too. I just can’t.”
Her voice breaks, her soul unraveling in real time. It’s too much for me, for her mother. Way too much for Vivi.
I watch my wife watch her childhood friend break in front of her. The girl she loved and felt so guilty for betraying. One act of childhood defiance that changed both their lives forever.
Francesca is sobbing, her chest heaving uncontrollably. Vivi looks at me, tears trailing down her face. She waves at me to stay away as she slowly drops to her knees.
Francesca is collapsing, her chest falling to her legs, her hair undone and tangling in front of her face. Vivi whispers to her, something I can’t hear. Starts to put her arms around the other woman’s shaking shoulders.
Francesca senses the movement, face flying up.
In an instant, her energy changes. Darkness hardening. Weaponized.
I’m reaching for my weapon when I hear Vivi promise, “It’s going to be okay, Francesca. I promise. Everything is going to be okay.”
“Oh, Ana.” Francesca’s tone is lifeless. Eyes dead. She’s already lifting her gun, finger wrapping around the trigger when she says, “Nothing is ever going to be okay ever again.”
Ginevra gasps.
I lunge forward, my vision pinpointed on Vivi, weapon drawn, my other hand grasping for Francesca’s gun.
Every single molecule in my being is focused on getting it out of her hand before it’s too late.
I see Francesca’s arm move.
Watch Vivi’s lips part, a scream forming as gunfire fills the room.