41
GIOVANN I
“ P lease, Papa,” Gabriella cries. “Please don’t go!”
“I have to, Angioletto.” My voice is gravelly, aching from the effort to control my anger and guilt. I hate doing this to her, I hate leaving her. All it does is create another barrier between us.
“I don’t want you to go again,” Gabriella whimpers, clutching my shirt. Her big green eyes are glassy with unshed tears, melting me, coaxing guilt to burn in my chest.
“It won’t be forever, prometerre.” I go to wrap my arms around her but she pushes me away.
Her face is red and blotchy, her golden skin tainted by her frustration and tears.
It’s like this every time I have to say goodbye to her. I don’t want to. No part of me enjoys the last few hours with her because I know how much it’s hurting her, hurting me.
“It’s not fair!”
“I know, Gabriella.” My eyes drop to the floor. There’s nothing else I can say. I’ve always been honest with her, and while she’s still young and innocent, she’s not stupid. She’s smart enough to know that this is our life now. She understands more than most kids her age do. Gabriella is a child that was thrust into a life of uncertainty as soon as she was born .
“Tell them no.”
If only it were that simple. But I can’t provide the life she deserves if I don’t do this. It’s all I’ve ever known. From a young age I played a part in this life, protecting those that couldn’t do it themselves, or didn’t trust their inner circle. Employing the likes of me, searched out for this sole purpose, creates a level of integrity and trust. I’ve built up a reputation over the last ten years to the point that people come to me and not the other way around. The only problem is that this job takes me further away from my daughter, further away from San Antonio.
“I can’t, Angioletta.”
Gabriella hangs her head, her bottom lip thrusting out in a pout. I wish I could tell her that better things are coming. But the truth is, nothing in this life is certain. Every day I pour my energy into creating a better life for her. For us. Every day, I wonder if what I’m doing is even the right thing anymore.
Her mother would be chastising me, telling me ‘this has to be the last time’. But we both know it won’t be.
“Please, Gabby, it won’t be forever.” I tug her close to my chest, and she lets me, her tiny body curling into mine. She’s looking more and more like her mother every day now. Her big green eyes and curly brown hair are reminiscent of the woman we both lost, the woman who made my life complete and empty all in the same breath. Even after all these years, Gabriella still reminds me of the woman she’ll never get to meet. Sadness tears through my chest, another level of guilt I’ll never be able to rid myself of.
“You say that every time,” she sniffles into my chest. I can sense the anger bubbling under the surface. Just like her mother, Gabriella has a short fuse and no-nonsense attitude. It’s another reason how my being away affects her.
I kiss her head, taking one more inhale of her scent and relishing the similarities she holds with her mother.
“You’ll have lots of fun with your Tia, though, hmm?”
Gabriella pulls away from me, her sad eyes rounding with anger.
“When I’m back we can go to the fair.”
I look up at my sister, knowing her heart breaks just as much. It can't be easy looking after someone else’s daughter, but this is the life I’ve fallen into. When this opportunity came my way, it was too good to pass up. Working for the first female Mafia leader is something I’ve never been offered before—probably because it’s unheard of. I’ve only ever come close to the women of La Cosa Nostra when I’ve been protecting them as their leaders’ spouses. This is something entirely new.
I clutch Gabriella harder to my chest, soaking up this moment because I don’t know how long I’ll be gone this time. Usually, it’s a term set out by the employer. Six months at best. But I don’t know the duration of this one because the conditions weren’t set clearly. All I know is someone is trying to take out Serafina Bianchi, and my services are required.
I’ve second-guessed myself over and over about my decision, but I know this is the right thing. This job will set us up for life, and I know I shouldn’t be putting a time limit on how long I have left, but I want Gabriella to have the best life possible. With or without me.
By the time night falls, I find myself gazing at my daughter, wondering where she gained all this strength to accept this as her life. Just looking at her sleeping form has me rethinking my decision. She’s peaceful, barely a flicker of a dream fluttering her eyelids. Her long eyelashes fan out, reminding me so much of her mother.
It has been eight years, but I’ve never forgotten her. I remember every perfect intricate detail, and I have a photo for the times I start to forget; for when I need a reminder of why I’m doing this. I trail a finger over my daughter’s soft cheek, reminding myself this will be the last time. It has to be.
“I’m sorry Gabriella.”
Pain lances through my abdomen, ripping me from the warm safety of my dream. I groan out, but I can’t seem to move. I feel like a lead weight that has sunk to the bottom of the ocean with no hopes of breaking the surface. The longer I stay like this, the longer the desolation sets in.
I vaguely remember gunshots, screaming, and shouting. The images of Sera’s fearless expression stick with me and I’m fraught with another emotion; another reminder of what I lost. The ache in my chest that I’ve tried to ignore for so long throbs harder. I can feel pressure on my hand, but that’s the only sensation. It’s soft and reassuring, but the comfort is pushed aside as another wave of pain burns me from the inside out.
I hiss out, the pressure on my hand tightening.
“It’s okay, I’m here.”
The voice is soothing, broken in a way I can’t really comprehend, but it comforts me nonetheless. There’s a sting in my hand, a coldness seeping through my arm and numbing the pain instantly. I’m grateful for the reprieve, the gentle kindness it offers. It forces me to sink back into the dark abyss of my mind, exhaustion coaxing me there with a helping hand.
It doesn’t last long before the pain returns and the cold sweat wakes me up. My eyes flutter open as the faint shadows dissolve into the sunrise. Pins and needles wrack my body, the burning sensation in my stomach telling me to stay put. There’s no use in moving.
My eyes dart around the room and I realize that I’m back in the pool house, covered by the comforter.
But I’m not alone.
The faint warmth beside tells me as much, adding to the gentle breaths skating over my bare shoulder. Slowly, I turn my head, my throat tightening when my eyes land on Sera.
Dark strands cascade over her face, her long eyelashes fanning out, catching those silent dreams. I clench my fist, resisting the urge to stroke the hair from her face. She’s peaceful, like nothing in the world can touch her right now. And I don’t need to wonder why she’s beside me. I’ve seen it in her eyes time and time again.
“She hasn’t left your side for three days.”
I snap my attention to the other side of me, my eyes focusing on the chair in the darkest corner of the room. But the shadows don’t conceal the man sitting in it.
Luca’s leaning forward, elbows on his knees as he watches us both. A deep frown sets his features in place, and I can only imagine the thoughts running through his head. The last time I saw him was when Sera left the party in a hurry. I remember that much. Knowing him, he’s probably pissed about how this all happened. I hate to say that I feel the same. Not because of the fact I’ve apparently been bed bound for days, but because once again, someone bested us and almost hurt Sera .
“You’re a good man, Giovanni. I wasn’t sure about you at first, but taking a bullet for her…” Luca stands up and makes his way towards me, hovering over Sera’s sleeping form. Stroking a hand over her cheek, I see the unfiltered adoration swimming his features. There isn’t one thing this man won’t do for his leader, and I know that surges deeper than just his loyalty toward her. “I guess actions speak louder than words.”
Sera shifts beside me, her hands cupping mine, a small sigh parting her lips. Of all the times I’ve imagined being beside her, this moment hits the deepest because I know how hard this must hurt her. She feels deeply. She cares so much about the people around her, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed that I’m included in that group now. Maybe that’s why Luca has found himself watching her, while she watches me?
Luca retracts his hand, tucking it into his pocket. “You should know that the men who did this have been taken care of,” he says quietly.
I wish I could believe Fontana. There’s no doubt about the fact he thinks this is handled, but we both know this is only the beginning. They’ll keep coming after her until she breaks or they succeed. There’s no winning for Bianchi, not while the Verdis have their claws in other gangs. No matter what, Sera isn’t safe. We can try everything to prevent harm coming to her, but until the Verdis get what they want or are taken out, it will never end.
Nodding my acknowledgment, Luca glances from me to Sera, his lips thinning slightly. He sighs, seemingly lost in his thoughts for a brief moment. Whatever wars inside of him, he’s struggling to contain it.
He steps around the bed, and I try not to feel like my privacy has been invaded. If anything, I have to rein back the unease because I know he’s here for her, not me. A dark cloud seems to follow him as he leaves, the door clicking shut behind him and cementing the fact that he’s not about to address his inner turmoil.
The bed shifts beside me, and the gentle strokes along my arm join the warmth of Sera’s body as she moves closer.
“He’s still pissed at me. ”
I tense up as soon as her soft voice floats past my ear. It’s gentle and sleepy, but it’s still music to my ears. My heart rate picks up, the reality that she’s awake and not moving away from me means more to me than she realizes. Just her presence alone seems to keep me grounded.
“Gio,” she rasps my name. “Who’s Gabriella?”
I don’t answer. My ears ring out at the name, the one I’ve never uttered to anybody who isn’t family.
“Right,” she sighs. The covers shift as she moves away from me, the light suddenly illuminating the room in a soft glow that exposes Sera’s tired features and defeated form. I watch her reach forward onto the bedside table before turning back to me, clutching something in her hand.
I already know what it is without seeing it, and my throat becomes dry and clogged.
“It fell out of your pocket when I grabbed your keys,” she explains, handing me the photo of my daughter and wife. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
Her hand drops from mine, moving off the bed. She doesn’t have to look at me for me to know I’m hurting her with my silence. I want so badly to tell her about the life I once had, the people in my life that made it worth living. I wish I could tell her the same thing I used to tell my daughter; that strength comes from within and I’m in awe of how much she harbors.
I glance back at the photograph in my hand, the perfect image of two smiling faces I adored over and over again. Tears spring and burn the backs of my eyes, and before I can stop them, the words spill out.
“You remind me so much of her.”