25. Gianni
Chapter 25
Gianni
We drive back home in near-silence, listening to the music we have on in the background. Genoveva sits beside me, her presence both a miracle and yet… a ticking bomb. My mind races, calculating risks and crafting lies.
"We're almost home," I say, looking over at her sharply.
Genoveva's eyes meet mine, a flicker of uncertainty reflecting in their hazel depths. "You don’t sound happy about that,” she observes.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white. "I don’t know. Sooner or later, someone’s bound to see you.”
She leans back in her seat, a small frown crossing her face as she considers my words. "What will you tell them? That I rose from the dead?" she laughs bitterly, leaving me jarred by her response.
“Genoveva, please. I’m not a fool,” I run a hand through my hair.
“It’s the truth, isn’t it? You defied the natural order of things,” she says through gritted teeth. I watch the side of her face and, to my shock, see her looking almost angry . “You brought back a person from the dead!”
I exhale sharply, the weight of the world on my shoulders. Here, I thought she was beginning to be grateful to be alive again. On the hot-air balloon, she had laughed and teased. But now? That same darkness returns.
I’ll need to be patient with her. I can’t feed into this fight she’s trying to pick. Instead, day by day, I will bring back the light in her life.
“I can't begin to imagine how hard all this must be for you. But I’ll have to come up with something elaborate. Something to explain your miraculous return without raising suspicions."
I look over at her to see if she has any ideas that might help, but she sits there sullen, stone-faced, with her arms crossed before her.
“Perhaps we can sell a story. Your death was faked. A necessary evil to protect you from a threat. That group is no longer of danger to you, and so we’re reintroducing you into society."
“The men saw me dead,” she says flatly.
“I know,” I run a hand through my hair. “This was something no one but you and I knew. Everyone was kept in the dark. The whole thing was a facade, and we’ll have to bribe the priest to tell him to say the casket was empty.”
“He’d do it? Lie? A man of god?” Genoveva scoffs.
I frown. In every solution I offer, she creates an issue as though she doesn’t want this to be fixed. Perhaps it’s too much for her, too soon and too fast. I reach over and take her hand, caressing it to comfort.
“For the right price, the priest might.” “Let’s not even put him in that position. Even if he does go along with it, he knows the truth, and he may look at me as some demonic entity instead of a miracle. That would make me more uncomfortable.” She says.
That does make sense. My thoughts churn, sharp and urgent. How to keep her safe once people find out she’s back though? The Family will want answers. Enemies will smell blood in the water.
One misstep and I could lose her again – this time for real.
"We'll need to limit your visibility," I think aloud. "No public appearances for a while. I'll spread the word discreetly and control the narrative. For now, only a select few staff members will know about your return. We’ll have to keep you sheltered, protected."
Genoveva's jaw tightens.
"It's temporary," I assure her, though the lie tastes bitter. "Just until I can make sure there are no lurking threats."
She looks away, and I can almost hear the gears turning in her mind. My clever, independent Genoveva – how will she handle being caged, even if it's for her protection?
The familiar streets of our neighborhood come into view. I glance at Genoveva, studying her profile as she gazes out the window. Her hazel eyes dart from home to home, drinking in the familiar sights of our neighborhood. There's a tightness around her mouth, a subtle tension in her shoulders.
"We're almost home," I say, my voice low and gravelly.
Genoveva turns to me, a small smile playing on her lips. "I know," she replies softly. "I remember every turn."
Of course she does.
"Ready?" I ask as we pull up to the house.
Genoveva's chin lifts, her posture straightening. "Always," she says, and for a moment, I see the fire that first drew me to her. We can do this. We have to.
I exit the car first and scan the surroundings. Old habits die hard. My heart races and my breath hitches in my throat as I notice our groundkeeper in the distance, striding towards me as he usually does to help me carry things in from the car, should I have any.
I quickly open the passenger door and lean in, Genoveva’s eyes the sole focus of my attention. Her face is mere inches away, her cheeks flushed.
“The groundskeeper is here,” I say rapidly. “Listen, stick to the story. Some will be shocked, others in disbelief. Let me handle it. Don’t say a word unless they ask first. Do they understand? The more we explain, the guiltier we shall look.”
She nods rapidly, registering my words. I give her a hand, and she takes it. Together, we step out of the car.
The gravel crunches behind me, and we turn to see him standing a few feet away from us.
"Welcome home, sir," he says. I quickly look over at Genoveva to see how she’s feeling, but she stares ahead motionless. I extend my hand and take hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. When I look back at the groundskeeper, his eyes rise from our conjoined hands to my face.
Yet, apart from the confusion, his face betrays nothing else. He asks no questions. He merely nods in greeting and goes about his business.
In this moment, I realize how well our staff is trained. They’ve been told repeatedly that decisions are often made amongst our ranks that they shall never be privy to. Ask no questions; hear what’s said.
That’s the motto, and clearly, they’ve been trained well to act without question. Smart enough to recognize when silence speaks louder than words.
“Would you require any assistance, sir?” the groundskeeper asks softly.
“Gen?” I turn to her. She shakes her head. The groundskeeper’s eyes widen just a little before he collects himself again. He doesn’t say a word and doesn’t look in her direction again.
This might just be easier than I thought.
“That would be all,” I say.
He bows just a little and walks off.
I step into the foyer, my eyes sweeping the room with laser focus. Maria polishes the silver, her movements methodical. Luca arranges fresh flowers.
My muscles uncoil slightly, but I remain alert. "Afternoon," I call out, my voice low and controlled.
They turn, offering respectful nods. I search their faces for a flicker of surprise, a hint of recognition.
Nothing.
"Good afternoon, Don Montagna," Maria responds, her eyes never straying to Genoveva.
Genoveva's fingers tighten on my arm, a silent question. I give an imperceptible shake of my head. Not yet.
"Any messages?" I ask, maintaining the illusion of normalcy.
Luca approaches, his expression neutral, though his eyes drift between where Gen and I stand. "Nothing urgent, sir. Your usual reports are on your desk."
I nod, watching intently. Not a flicker of curiosity, not a single greeting or question at the woman by my side. It's as if they’re petrified of what they see.
Or far too well-trained.
"Very good," I reply, my mind racing. Their discretion is impeccable.
Genoveva's breath catches almost imperceptibly. I feel her tension and desire to speak. I squeeze her hand gently. Later, my love, when we're alone.
It must be hard enough for the staff to see her again after having attended the funeral.
As we climb the stairs, I allow myself a small, grim smile. Phase one is to introduce her back into the house - complete. Now, to keep her safe while we plan our next move.
After helping Genoveva settle into her room, I walk into my study and close the heavy oak door behind me. I turn to face Marco, my most trusted lieutenant, who stands by the fireplace, his face a mask of practiced neutrality.
"You understand the gravity of the situation," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I need my revenge on Paolo Greco.”
What I don’t tell him is that this is about more than revenge. It is about keeping my wife safe.
Unfortunately, Marco will be the last to know of her return. Because he’s the man who is usually privy to all my secrets, he would question how I pulled this off alone, or worse - catch me in a lie.
"Of course, Capo. "
I nod, satisfaction warming my chest. "Excellent. Maintain vigilance. Any whispers, any doubts—I want to know immediately."
"It will be done," Marco replies, bowing slightly before slipping out of the room.
That night, we eat dinner in our room. As I hand her a glass of wine, Genoveva's lips curve into a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. The spark I saw when we soared above the city in that hot air balloon is gone, replaced by a weariness that makes my chest tighten.
"We need to get away," I say, the idea crystallizing as I speak. "Just you and me. Somewhere far from all this."
Her eyebrow arches. "And leave your empire unattended?"
I shake my head, already plotting. "A few days. To breathe. To remember why we fight."
As Genoveva considers, I'm already envisioning our escape. A villa in Tuscany, perhaps. Or a yacht on the Adriatic. Somewhere, I can see that light in her eyes again.
"First things first," I mutter, more to myself than her. My mind shifts gears, the strategist in me taking over. "We need to solidify our position. Neutralize any lingering threats."
I pace the room, ideas flowing rapidly. "The Rossi family. They've been too quiet lately. We'll need to apply pressure, remind them of their place." I pause, considering. "And Salvatore. He's been eyeing our territory in Palermo. Time to make an example."
Genoveva watches me, her expression unreadable. I continue, the pieces falling into place. "We'll need to accelerate our plans for the port expansion. It's risky, but the payoff..." I trail off, a grim smile tugging at my lips. "It'll cement our control for generations."
“It looks like our getaway might take a while before it happens,” she remarks with a wry grin, winning back my attention.
I turn to Genoveva, my protective instincts flaring. "It might. And so, for now, we keep you hidden. It's not safe—"
"No." Her voice is soft but steely, that familiar stubborn glint in her hazel eyes. "I won't be a prisoner in my own home, Gianni."
I clench my jaw, torn between my need to shield her and her fierce independence. "Genoveva, please. Just until—"
"Until what?" She steps closer, her perfume intoxicating. "Until every threat is neutralized? We both know that day will never come."
I run a hand through my hair, frustration mounting. "What would you have me do? Parade you around while our enemies sharpen their knives?"
Genoveva's fingers brush my cheek, her touch electric. "We face this together. As we always have."
I lean into her hand, conflict raging within me. "I can't lose you again," I whisper.
"Then don't shut me out," she counters.
I nod, an idea forming. "We'll reintroduce you gradually. Controlled settings, trusted allies first."
Her lips curve into a smile. "And then?"
"Then," I say, my mind racing with possibilities, "we show the world that the Montagnas are stronger than ever."
I pull her close, my voice low. "Every move calculated, every appearance planned. We'll turn your return into our greatest weapon."
Genoveva's eyes spark with excitement, and I feel a thrill of anticipation. This is what we do best – outwit our enemies and dance on the razor's edge of danger.
"Let them come," she whispers against my lips. "We'll be ready."