Page 112 of The Deal

“As if that’s any better,” I chime in. “And we are talking about five-year-olds. You can’t beat up a child.”

“Then I’ll hire some five-year-old thugs to do it for me,” he deadpans.

“Stop,” I growl at my brother as he stands tall next to Giovanni with his arms crossed over his chest in full gangster mode. “He’s never going to make any friends if you keep looking at all the kids like that.”

“I’m just taking inventory.”

“Inventory on what?”

“Who I need to whack.”

“You are not whacking anyone,” I grumble through gritted teeth. “Do I need to remind you these are kids?”

“Metaphorically speaking,” Dante replies with a grin,clearly enjoying himself. “I’m just looking out for my nephew … it’s my job as his uncle.”

As unimpressed as I am by his typical Dante antics, I can’t help but feel a slight tug at the corners of my lips. Up until Giovanni came to live with us, Dante never really had a chance to develop a relationship with him.

He never outright denied him—unlike my father, who’d distanced himself once we found out Giovanni wasn’t mine biologically—but with Dante living almost five hundred kilometres away and me only having Giovanni for two days a month, they barely saw each other.

He occasionally asked about him, which was enough to show me he cared, even if he wasn’t around. But he’s now openly acknowledging Giovanni as family, calling him his nephew without hesitation. It means more to me than he probably realises.

It’s a small thing, but to me, it’s everything.

When it’s time for Giovanni to head to class, we all say our goodbyes. Chloe pulls him in for a second hug, holding him a little tighter before he walks off with the rest of the kids.

It’s an emotional moment, and that damn knot in the back of my throat has returned, tightening with every step he takes away from us. I’m grateful I got to share this momentous moment with him, but I didn’t realise it would be this hard.

I know he’s safe because I’ve already researched the school and conducted a thorough background check on his teacher.

Once he disappears around the corner, Dante nudges me in the ribs with a teasing grin. “Are you crying?”

“No! Are you?” I snap, not realising how defensive I sound.

As we turn to leave, heading toward the gate, I reach forChloe, but my hand finds an empty space. Looking back, I see her still standing in the same spot, her eyes fixed on the school, tears streaming down her face.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.

The sight of her like this twists something in me. I hate seeing her upset, and it sure as hell doesn’t help the bravado I’m trying to hold on to.

It’s not just the thought of Giovanni growing up, it’s the way she cares so deeply, how her heart is just as invested in him as mine.

“I’ve got this,” Dante says, placing his hand on my shoulder and squeezing it before heading in her direction.

“The fuck you have,” I growl, moving towards her with long, purposeful strides. He’s no match since he’s still on one crutch.

I hear him chuckle as I pass … arsehole. He did that intentionally to get under my skin, and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

When we arrive at my hotel, Spencer Prescott is waiting for us in the lobby. He looks every bit the professional as he adjusts his suit jacket, his expression a mix of anticipation and focus. He’s here to sit down with Chloe and give her a firsthand run-through of the accountancy program he developed for the company, providing a chance to make suggestions and iron out any bugs before we implement it across our numerous businesses.

My first duty as head of this family will be to replace Lorenzo—the man my father had entrusted with our books for many years. It’s no secret I can’t stand him. I’d instantly disliked him from day one when I watched how he treated his female staff.

He may not have betrayed us like Theodore once did, but in my opinion, he wasn’t the great man my father believed him to be. I found him lazy and, at times, incompetent. He was also a sexist pig, which wasn’t even his least redeemable trait.

After making introductions, we head towards my office. “You coming?” I ask Dante over my shoulder. I’m trying to get him interested in the legitimate side of our company.

He is standing by the reception desk, talking—or should I say flirting—with one of my staff. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he replies.

I roll my eyes, but at least Chloe’s not garnering his attention this time.

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