Page 41 of Brando

“This is neither the time nor the place,” he warns us, his eyes scaling the room to remind us that we’re in the presence of greatness. One wrong move, and our house of cards comes tumbling down around us.

“We should go,” Mia says, looking expectantly at Frank.

He turns towards her, a sharp edge of possession evident in his gaze. “We stay, mia cara. Brando Gatti will learn to stay in his lane.”

Mia’s blue eyes flicker toward me, her plea silent but screaming. She is torn, caught between the devil and me. Her loyalty to her sisters wars with the ache in her chest, a pull towards me that refuses to be ignored.

She turns, her escape as silent as a shadow melting into the night. She slips through the throngs of guests and seeks refuge through a door that leads out to a terrace.

I turn back to the confrontation, just as Scar asks Falcone why he’s back in the city.

Scar doesn’t even make an attempt to mask his contempt for the man. My brothers don’t know Falcone, not really. He was in my grade when we were in school, and our interactions were relegated to the school ground, so they don’t know anything about him except that he’s a small-time hood and he’s taken Mia’s sisters. Oh, and that he set us up with the Maltese in the hope that we’d destroy each other. That would have been a win-win for him and would have paved the way for this shit kicking small time hood to join the big leagues. Not on our watch.

“Name your terms, Falcone,” Scar spits out.

“I came back for what's mine,” he says, and his eyes sway my way, deliberately trying to goad me into a fight.

Scar raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “What’s yours? The streets? There’s nothing for you in this city. Except a target on your back.”

Falcone’s eyes narrow. Scar has hit a nerve, one of many, I hope. His hands clench into fists, but he does a good job of controlling his anger, keeping it contained. He ignores my brother and leans forward, his eyes burning into me with the cold fire of old resentment.

“She’s mine,” he spits at me. “Always has been. Will always fucking be.I’m taking back what’s mine.”

My eyes lock with his, unblinking. I’ve changed. I’m more ruthless than I was ten years ago. I’ve lost too much already to just roll over and let him have what’s mine. I know what I want, and I’m committed to getting what I want, and I will stomp all over anyone and anything that stands in my way.

He thinks he’s in control, but the truth is, he’s got more enemies than he knows. And the Gattis are his biggest problem…a migraine brewing that will result in his demise. I’m just the one who’s going to make sure they remember who he really is.

The air between us crackles with raw tension, the years of history and enmity hanging heavy in the room. For a moment, neither of us moves. Neither of us breathes.

Finally, I speak again, my voice low, dangerous. “You came back for her, huh? It’s been ten years, Falcone. Ten years. A lot can happen in ten years. She could have given her heart to someone more worthy, for instance.”

I know no such thing, but it’s satisfying all the same watching as his face blanches of its arrogance and his gaze hardens. I’ve hit a nerve, and I can’t say I’m not happy about that as he turns without a word and heads in the opposite direction.

I see my opening and nod at Lucky, telling him wordlessly to keep Falcone occupied while I follow Mia out to the terrace.

Her cheeks are flushed as the night air kisses against her skin. She’s so beautiful as she leans against the ornate railing, staring into the dark abyss below. I can feel her heartbeat as it pulses through the air while she stands looking out at theexpansive gardens. The stars blink down at her, indifferent to the turmoil they observe in her quiet solitude.

She exhales, the mist of her breath mingling with the night. For a fleeting moment, she is just Mia—Mia at 15, young and carefree and innocent. The girl I knew in high school. The girl I spent so many weekends with, whiling away the time as we shared our hopes and dreams and demons. And now she’s just a woman standing alone under the watchful eye of the moon.

“Mia.” Her name is a silent vow on my lips.

Her voice trembles like a leaf in the wind as she says my name. I lean on the railing beside her, our shoulders inches apart but worlds away.

“Seems like all I do is escape one problem only to land in the middle of another,” she says, the moonlight casting her features in a haunting glow.

“Come home with me, Mia.” My eyes never leave hers.

Her gaze finally meets mine, searching for a truth she may never truly find in the depths of my eyes. “He has the twins. I won’t come back without them, Brando.”

“Let me deal with Falcone.”

We stand together, silence stretching between us like a bridge over raging waters. I study her profile—a sculpture of shadows and light—memorising every line, every crease, every secret held beneath her layers of pain.

“My sisters...” Mia shakes her head, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us. There is no greater conflict than knowing you are the key to your sibling’s salvation. I myself know this well.

I lift a finger to her lips, stopping her. I know what’s coming. I don’t have to make this any harder on her than it already is. My main concern is for her safety with Falcone; the thought of her being anywhere near him snaps at something chemical deep inside me until all I want to do is snap his neck and be rid of him.

Scar told me I had to be mindful of her wishes and couldn’t crowd her. He told me that if I couldn’t give her what she needed (essentially, her sisters), I had no right to condemn her for her choices. Siblings, he reminded me, would do anything to protect or save their own.

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