22. Gio
Gio
The tires grit against the gravel of the lake house driveway, bringing the SUV to a stop.
She's going to bolt the second I unlock the door.
"Dante has the road blocked, we are secure here."
“Unlock the door, Giovanni," she spits, her voice trembling but sharp as a razor.
"You are shivering," I say, my eyes tracking the rapid, shallow rise of her collarbone.
"I said, unlock the door," she repeats, turning her head to glare at me, her amber eyes blazing through the gloom.
I press the release, and she steps into the freezing mud.
She marches straight toward the safehouse’s concrete porch, her yellow cardigan damp and ruined, her mother’s cardboard box clutched fiercely to her ribs.
I slide out of the driver's seat, a sudden, sharp needle of pain tearing through my right ribs where the bullet grazed me.
I ignore it, compartmentalizing the burning heat as I follow her up the steps, my boots silent on the concrete.
I push the heavy oak door open before she can reach for the handle, stepping into the cold, vaulted living room.
Lina walks straight to the center of the room, stopping near the stone hearth, then she just turns on her heel to face me, her breathing ragged, her face pale.
"Did you know who I was on the sidewalk?" she demands, her voice cracking. "The very first day?"
"Yes," I answer, closing the heavy door behind me and throwing the deadbolt.
"The wobbly shelf?" she asks, her fingers digging into the wet cardboard of the box. "The vintage book? The slow dance?"
"Yes," I admit.
"It was all a script," she whispers, a single, hot tear spilling over her eyelashes. "Every single word."
"It was a setup; you were the asset I needed to claim my father's throne."
She lets out a sharp, bitter laugh, her head tilting back as she stares at the timber ceiling. "And my mother? Did you know she spent almost twenty years hiding me from you? Did you know she died terrifyingly alone because she was running from your world?"
"I knew your mother ran to keep you safe.” I respond.
"But you didn't care," Her amber eyes locking onto mine with a fierce, gutting hatred. "You just wanted your crown, so you trapped me."
“Initially, yes, but the plan changed, Lina. You’re everything to me”
"I am nothing to you," she whispers.
"That is a lie," I tell her, needing her to believe me. "You know it is."
"How can I know anything?" she cries, her chest heaving as she steps back, her boots hitting the edge of the hearth. "Gio! You made me love a man who didn't even exist!"
"He exists," I reply, my hands clenching into fists at my sides to keep from reaching for her. "The man who fixed your shelf, the man who held you in the storm, the man who took two bullets to keep you breathing today, that is me. None of that was a script."
She shakes her head, her dark curls falling around her face in a wild, tangled web. "My father is a crime lord who wants to trade me like cargo, you’re his partner and you expect me to just trust you and sign my life away to you."
“I’ll do anything to prove you can trust me, to prove the sincerity of my love for you.
"Then let me go," she murmurs.
The words hit my chest like a physical blow, the guilt beneath my ribs rotting a little deeper.
Let her go. If I let her walk out of this door, Matteo’s shooters will have her body in a ditch before she reaches the highway.
"I cannot do that, Matteo’s men are already in Massachusetts. You’re in danger,” I insist.
“I would rather take my chances with them than stay in this cage," she spits.
"You would not survive thirty minutes!" I boom.
"Then let me die!" she screams, her voice echoing off the concrete walls of the safehouse. "At least I would die as myself! Not as your asset!"
"Listen to me, Lina," I whisper, my voice dropping to a low, warning growl as I close the distance between us.
I stop two feet from her, the raw heat of her anger hitting my chest. "You want the truth?
Here it is. I am the enforcer. I have killed men, I have burned warehouses, and I have spent my entire life preparing to take a throne.
But the moment I saw you on that sidewalk, everything changed. "
"You're lying," she whispers, her eyes wide as she looks at my face.
For the next small reading break, it helps to have a book ready.
Take a look at Lokepub and save one for later.
"I am not," I reply.
"Then prove it," she retorts.
"I will," I tell her.
I reach into my pocket, pull out my secure satellite phone, and dial Salvatore’s private New York line. I press the speaker button, holding the phone between us. The line rings twice before the gravelly, autocratic voice of the don cuts through the quiet room.
"Giovanni," Salvatore growls. "Is my daughter safe?"
"She is safe, Don Salvatore," I respond, my eyes locked on Lina's pale face.
"Good," the old man grunts. "We sign the papers tonight."
"The merger is null, Salvatore. I am dissolving the betrothal contract. I am pulling my faction out of the alliance."
Silence hangs on the line, heavy and suffocating, before Salvatore speaks again, his voice dropping to a low, icy threat. "If you break this pact, Giovanni, Matteo will have Palermo by morning. Your faction will be hunted. I will put a bullet in your head myself for this betrayal."
"Then prepare your shooters, Don Salvatore," I mutter. "Because the deal is over."
I cut the line, sliding the phone back into my pocket.
Lina is staring at me, her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide with a pure, disbelieving shock. She looks at my face, searching it for any sign of a bluff, but she finds nothing but the absolute, cold reality of what I’ve just done.
"Why did you do that?" she whispers, her voice barely a breath in the quiet room.
"Because I want you, Lina," I answer, my voice rough with a raw, heavy emotion I can no longer contain. "Not for Palermo. Not for the docks. Not for my father's seat but for myself. And if the only way to prove that is to burn my world to the ground, then I will watch it burn."
"Gio..." she murmurs, her fingers trembling against the cardboard box.
"You want to leave?" I say, my chest rising and falling fast as I step back, gesturing toward the heavy oak door. "That’s the door. Dante will not stop you, Marco will not follow you. You are free."
She looks at the door, then back to my face, her amber eyes reflecting the cold gray light of the window. She is standing on the edge of the chasm, her whole life stripped of its lies, looking at the monster who threw away an empire just to give her a choice.
"I want to leave," she whispers softly, her voice steady.
She is leaving. I lost her.
Everything in me wants to hold on to her and chain her down if I have to, but I won’t.
"Then go," I tell her.
She tucks her mother’s box tightly under her arm, her canvas sneakers squeaking slightly against the concrete floor as she walks past me. She reaches the door, pulls it open, and steps out into the cold, gray morning fog.
The door shuts behind her, the lock clicking with a heavy, final sound.
I stand in the center of the room, my chest heaving, my right ribs screaming with a hot, liquid warmth as the bullet graze begins to bleed through my shirt again.
The front door clicks open again, and Dante steps into the room, his black wool coat damp with rain, his face its usual cold, unreadable marble. He looks at the empty room, then at the blood staining my shirt, his eyes narrowing.
"She walked," Dante notes.
"Yes," I reply.
“What if Matteo puts a bullet in her?”
“That won’t happen. I’m sure her father already has her protected.”
"The New York captains are already pulling their soldiers back," Dante continues, stepping closer. "Matteo’s cell in Boston is moving north. We have twenty-four hours before we are surrounded."
"I know," I grunt.
"We are going to die here, Gio," Dante says.
"Then we die fighting."
I walk over to the window, my forehead resting against the cold, wet glass as I watch the gray fog swallow the lake.