Page 62 of The Godfather’s Christmas Twins

“No but plenty of gambling on the Nevada side.”

He has a point. “If we’re focused on gambling, he could be headed to Palm Springs. Or Arizona.” But if he’s after Gia, would he leave? Is he lying low until the heat dies down and he’ll be back?

“Who do we know in those locations who can keep an eye out?”

“On it, Boss,” Tony says, pulling out his phone.

But I’m still feeling like we’re on the wrong track. Benny has always been a low-level hustler, more concerned with quick scores than elaborate schemes. The stalking messages Gia received are calculated, designed to unsettle without making direct threats. They reveal intimate knowledge of Gia's daily routine—when she got coffee, where she shopped, which parks she took the kids to. That level of surveillance takes dedication.

Benny, on the other hand, couldn't even maintain enough focus to run a decent poker scam. His confrontation with Gia at the casino was pure desperation, taking advantage of an opportunity.

In the end our stalker seems to be a man with a plan and a shit-ton of patience, and Benny has never had either.

"Boss?" Tony's voice pulls me from my thoughts.

"Double the search teams," I order. "I want eyes on every casino floor, every dive bar, every fleabag motel in a hundred-mile radius. If Benny's still in Vegas, we find him. If he's running, we track him."

"You think he's the stalker Don Nardone is after?" Dominic asks.

"Maybe. Maybe not. But he threatened Gia in my territory. That alone means we bring him in." I rise, ready to head out to my office. "And get me everything you can on Benny's movements for the past six months. Phone records, credit card transactions, known associates. If he's been stalking Gia, there'll be a pattern."

I leave the restaurant and head to my office. Alone at my desk, I can’t shake the feeling that Benny, the scumbag that he is, isn’t our stalker. Even so, he confronted her, so I need to deal with him.

The mention of inheritance and the twins nags at me. Not that he wants it, because I’ve known that ever since Aldo died and Benny made a run for the money. But what’s his comment about her stealing the money? About the kids not being Aldo’s. Is that just the ravings of a lunatic or is there something there?

I spread photos and documents across my desk. The security footage from Benny's casino confrontation plays on a loop on my laptop screen. I’m hoping something will make all this make sense.

I watch Benny as he sees Gia and makes his way to her. He’s not subtle. Looking at the screenshots from Gia's stalker shows a different pattern. This guy is the epitome of subtlety. Unless someone knew what to watch for, they’d never guess this guy was anything but a regular hoodie wearing New Yorker lingering in the streets.

I pull up the timeline we've assembled. The stalking messages started a few months ago in New York. Benny was in Atlantic City during that time, running his usual small-time hustles. But of course, that’s not a long way from New York.

I spread out the stalker's messages again, reading through them for the hundredth time. The writer knows things about Gia's routine that only someone close to her would notice. Who can get that close to her without anyone noticing?

On and on I review, I re-read, I re-watch, until my eyes are practically bleeding. I check my watch. It’s nearly two in the morning. I know that no matter what, I’m not going to glean anything tonight. So I head out, knowing my time is running out to find Benny.

I pull into the garage, the house dark and silent as I enter. It’s the first time I’ve come home to complete silence in the house. I don’t like it. Before Gia and the kids arrived, I never noticed how lonely this place was. Now the quiet feels like a preview of what's coming when they leave.

I loosen my tie as I make my way down the hallway toward their wing. Just a quick check to make sure everything's secure. At least, that’s the excuse I give myself.

I peek into the kids’ room. Dario's sprawled across his bed, one arm dangling off the edge, his favorite stuffed dragon clutched in the other. Daniella's curled up tight, dark hair spilling across her pillow. Their peaceful faces stir something deep in my chest.

I scan the room, which before had simply been a nondescript bedroom. Now, the fort they built still stands in the corner. Along the wall, their drawings are posted like museum artwork. The images are bright crayon scenes, the house, the pool, stick figures of all of us together. All of us together. Like a family.

I shouldn't want this. My life, the things I do, the enemies I've made… It doesn’t give me time or energy to commit to a family. But watching them sleep, seeing the home they've made in these rooms…

Christ. I want it so fucking bad it’s painful.

I've spent decades growing in the business, telling myself it was enough. Power, money, respect, that’s all I ever wanted. Now I stand in a dark room watching two kids dream, and everything I thought I wanted feels hollow.

But they deserve better than me. They should have a father figure who can love their mother openly without guilt. Gia deserves that too. I’m a motherfucker for taking my cake and eating it too, knowing it would end. Knowing it would hurt her, hurt her kids.

I move down the hall to Gia's room, because clearly, I’m a sadist. The door's cracked open, moonlight spilling across her sleeping form. She's curled on her side, honey-blonde hair fanned across the pillow. The sight of her steals my breath. She’s so peaceful, beautiful, everything I want and can't have. My fingers itch to brush that stray lock from her cheek.

I'm being a fool, standing here like some lovesick teenager. But I can't seem to make myself leave.

Her eyes flutter open, catching me like the fucking moron that I am.

"Max?" Her voice is soft with sleep. "Is everything okay?"

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