Would he understand that I didn’t choose violence, I chose the man who could’ve shoved me away on a Queens street, doled out the sort of careless and ruthless punishment men like him were easily capable of… or worse… but instead apologised like he meant it?
Then spent weeks making up for it?
Or would he only see the blood he spilt?
The blood I know in my heart that Giovanni Dragoni has on his hands? The blood he all but admitted he was unashamed of spilling?
Would Papa ever forgive me for marrying someone forged from the same darkness that took his life?
That question has followed me through every island sunrise and sleepless night.
It weighs heavier than fear.
Heavier than Giovanni.
And as the house settles into quiet around me, that guilt wraps itself around my chest like a vice.
I close my eyes and let it press in.
Because running from Giovanni was easy compared to running from this.
5
GIOVANNI
I’m seated at the head of a table that could comfortably host twelve people but there are only two place settings.
Mine and Lucia’s.
Caterina has outdone herself tonight, just like I trusted she would. The smell of rosemary, garlic, and roasting meats lingers in the air, rich and warm and dangerously domestic.
Candles burn low along the centre of the table, their flames steady in the stillness of Emerald House. My men have placed themselves discreetly out of sight as instructed.
It should feel like a victory.
I’ve found her, brought her back under my roof.
She is upstairs, in my house, breathing my air again, getting ready to grace me with her presence just like she used to do before we married.
And yet.
My jaw tightens as I lift my wineglass and let the dark red liquid roll slowly along the curve of the crystal.
Our argument earlier plays itself back in my head with ruthless clarity.
The moment she finally said it out loud. The thing that our very future hinged on.
While all the time you were head of the Dragoni Crime Family.
The way her voice fractured around the words. The way she looked at me like I had reached into her chest and crushed something soft and vital in my fist.
I am not ashamed of my name. Never have been.
Dragoni is not just a surname. It is a dynasty. A history written in blood and loyalty and conquest. It is ports and shipping lanes and power structures that governments pretend they do not rely on while quietly doing exactly that. It’s the name that sways opinions in very high and very low places.
I was born into this life. Knew very early on there was no escaping it, only wielding it to my will with steel and cunning. So I mastered it. Grew very comfortable with ruling it.
And no, I did not become a different man after meeting Lucia.
