Page 91 of Crimson Fate

I roll my eyes, knowing that arguing with Marco will get me nowhere. “Does it even matter if I say no?” I snap, stepping aside to let him enter.

He steps inside, and I close the door behind us. The house feels suffocating with his presence, a constant reminder of the tangled mess I find myself in. He turns to face me, his brows furrowed with concern.

“Gia, you look like hell,” he says softly, his voice filled with genuine worry.

“Well, thanks for stopping by to share that gem,” I retort sarcastically. “What do you want, Marco?”

“I want to see how you’re doing,” he says. “I’m worried about you.”

“How do I look like I’m doing?” I quip. “Oh wait, you already said I look like hell. So are we all done here?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says as he walks farther into my home. I watch as he moves some magazines off my couch and takes a seat. That’s not the only reason I came.”

“Okay, fine,” I huff, sitting in the chair across from him. “Talk.”

Marco’s eyes soften as he looks at me, and I hate how I can feel the pity in his gaze. “I’m here because Vincent and I have been talking... about your father’s assets.”

I feel a flicker of interest in me. “What do you mean?”

“I mean his business assets,” Marco continues. “The operations he handled on behalf of Vincent.”

I stiffen at the mention of Vincent’s name. “Don’t say his name.”

“Look, I know you’re upset, but—”

“Upset?” I sit upright. “Upset doesn’t even begin to cover how I feel about Vincent. I hate him!” The words are loud in the quiet house, bouncing off the walls tainted with memories of betrayal and violence.

The air between us crackles with tension, heavy and electric. Marco’s dark eyes fixate on me, a flash of something inscrutable crossing his face before he speaks again.

“I admit that he didn’t handle you and his developing feelings for Eva right, but he’s trying to make sure you are looked after now that your father—”

“Say it!” I exclaim. “Now that my father is fucking dead!”

“I’m sorry,” Marco says slowly, each word deliberate. “But he knew what going up against the family would mean.”

“Why are you here?” I cut him off, not wanting to discuss the fact that my father deserved what he got.

Marco clears his throat. “I’ve made a request,” he says. “Your father’s responsibilities... they’re being transferred to me.”

“Transferred to you?” My voice is sharp, incredulous. “Why would you do that?” The usual process when a capo dies is that all responsibilities are divided among the remaining captains, or someone is promoted to take on the vacant role. Being Vincent’s consigliere, I am confused as to why Marco would make such a request.

“Because I think you should have it,” he replies, calm and unyielding. “All of it. Your father made you a part of the business on a daily basis, and if anyone knows how to continue where he left off, it would be you.”

A bitter laugh escapes me, a sound that doesn’t belong in this somber space. “You expect me to believe that? No way would Vincent let me run shit. A female capo?”

Marco’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “Vincent doesn’t need to know that I intend you to be the point person on everything.”

“Point person?” The word tastes sour on my tongue. “Please, why don’t you just admit it. You’re trying to figure out how to lessen your guilt for me doing what I did to save you. Well, you can keep your charity. I don’t fucking need it!”

“Dammit, Gia!” The control in his voice fractures, a rare glimpse of emotion breaking through his composed exterior. “Not everything has some sinister motive. I’m trying to do right by you because I fucking care about you.”

“You care about me, so you’re making deals with Vincent behind my back?” I challenge.

“You know things in our world aren’t that simple.” He shakes his head, a look of frustration flashing across his features for a moment before composing himself again. “The Gia I got to know over those months I worked for your family was strong. Just as strong as any man, she would have wanted what was rightfully hers.”

I hesitate, my stance softening despite myself. The vulnerability in Marco’s voice is something I have never heard before. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out.

“I care about you,” Marco adds, his eyes fixated on mine.

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