Page 94 of Giovanna

“Shut the fuck up, Bluey! Never let me hear you talk about her like that again.” I’ve never heard Giovanna so angry. But I don’t turn around. I walk outside and tumble deliberately face-first into the swimming pool.

Chapter Forty-One

Giovanna

The past forty-eight hours have been a fucking rollercoaster. You’d think having to kill someone would be rock bottom, but seeing the hurt and fury in that beautiful face and sexy little body kills me.

I wasn’t born yesterday. That piece of blue floss she called a bikini was all for me andfuck meit was hot, but we have soldiers in and out of the house all day and I don’t want them ogling her or getting any ideas. Fucking Bluey pushed his luck in front of me even. Not that he would have any idea about how I feel about her.

She’s got it into her head that I saw last night as a one-night stand, that it was purely sex. That I see her just like any woman I could have picked up from a club. She assumes I didn’t feel our electric connection and insane chemistry. The opposite is true, but I am juggling a million balls in the air right now and I can’t figure out how to get her out of this marriage with Elio.

Technically I could just say it isn’t happening, but the arrangement was Dad’s last move as Don and he wants it to be seen through. Even in retirement, he holds significant power over us all. He can ease the transition in leadership or make our lives very difficult.

My body physically aches with the need to go to Francesca and comfort her, but I need time to sort out this mess. I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep or fuck things up for the entire Famiglia.

Her tears affect me. I’m cold, calculated, and disaffected usually, but when it comes to her everything crumbles and I would sell a fuckin’ kidney to put a smile on her face. She makes me weak and that is very, very dangerous for someone like me.

Fuck. Right now I need to find Elio. He’s been missing in action since last night and I need to bring him in for damage assessment. I quickly type out a text to Massimo and then force myself to focus on the task at hand.

Me: Look after Francesca, please. Don’t leave her side.

I’m in a foul mood and Bluey is copping an arctic blast from me as he drives us into the city.

Last night was one of the most incredible nights of my life and yet I managed to fuck it up so thoroughly this morning. I allow myself a moment of self-pity; to wallow in the unfairness of a life that means I have to watch my brother in the role that should be mine and set to marry the girl who brings me to my knees. And he’s fucking both up. He doesn’t even want them.

If it weren’t for all this shit with Stefan and the Rossis and needing Elio to fucking hold this shit together, I would have spent the morning in bed with Francesca. I would throw myself head first, for the first time in my life, and tell the world that she is mine. Instead, I have to push her away and hurt us both in the process.

My gut is churning and I’m not used to the distracting physiological responses to my emotions. I can’t afford the distraction, but I am plagued by it regardless.

My phone rings as I take the elevator up to our offices.

“Tell me you’ve found him,” I sigh to Matty.

“Yeah, I’ve got him,” Matty drawls. “He’s been shagging up a storm at some socialite’s house.”

Of course, he has. “Bring him into the office. Work, not home.”

Elio looks defiant despite the bags under his eyes, his crumpled suit, and a massive hickey visible on his neck. He sits on the other side of my desk, legs spread wide as he reclines and looks down his nose at me. Defiant. Matty is leaning against the wall next to us, regarding the tension with his usual dispassionate silence.

“Last night was…full on,” I began and Elio snorts. “Yeah, understatement, right?” I joke.

“We will talk later about what caused…your inaction. We need to be able to rely on you in those situations and Francesca could easily have been killed.”

“Thought you just said we were talking about this later,” he snaps.

I pause, staring at my angry younger brother. A man at 36, but still the cheeky kid who was always getting into trouble and then smiling his way out of it.

I feel like I’m watching his self-destruction in double time and can’t do anything to stop it. A train crash in slow motion. Elio has always been the fun-loving, good-time guy. The optimistic, pleasure seeker where Matty and I are in our element in the darkness. I don’t like the man who sits in front of me fuming and bitter. He bears no resemblance to our Elio.

“It’s fair to say things are escalating,” I continue. “We need to know who ordered the ambush. If Stefan had a hand in it, we need to make an example of him.”

“On it,” Matty mutters.

“Elio, I know you’re angry, but if we don’t show a united, stable front, Stefan and, by proxy, Romano will walk in and take everything,” I need to make him understand how precarious things are. “For the love of god can you give chasing pussy a rest for, I duno… a month? We don’t need the side drama.”

“One month?” he raises an eyebrow. “Does that include chasing my wife-to-be’s pussy?”

His words hit me hard and I feel like I’ve been winded. Every fibre in my body wants to reach across and slug him in the face.

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