But the thought of retreating somewhere else in this vast house without him, silent, echoing, watching, makes my chest tighten.
So I press my lips together until I can’t hold back my response. Then I nod.
Despite everything inside me screaming that this issue is far from resolved. That he effectively shut me up with a kiss.
But… I can’t help but be aware that it’s only unresolved on my part.
Since my husband tracked me down on the island, he’s been nothing but brutally clear with his every intention. And having laid out the course of action and consequence, what more is there to talk about?
My uncles, as disappointing as it’s been to find out, are grown men who went into this with their eyes wide open. And while I know they wouldn’t betray Giovanni, the ghost of past trauma won’t leave me alone.
So I guess I have to make sure it never comes to that. Right?
I push my shaky feelings away as Giovanni takes my hand and walks me to the sitting area in his study.
We eat a late lunch brought in quietly, almost reverently, and afterward he installs me in the corner of his office with a tablet, a casual command disguised as consideration.
I barely touch it. Instead, I watch him.
I watch my husband run his empire with polished ease, switching languages mid-sentence, fielding calls, approving contracts, dismantling problems with a smile sharp enough to draw blood.
Legitimate. Elegant. Deadly.
He’s a chameleon.
And as confusion coils tighter inside me, one thought refuses to let go.
If this is the man I married…
What else is he still hiding?
And how close am I to discovering it the hard way?
Giovanni
The loan was neverabout money.
Money is noise. Numbers. Replaceable.
Loyalty is not.
I sit behind my desk after Lucia leaves, the door closing with a finality that lingers longer than it should, and I let myself breathe for the first time since she stormed in like a force of nature with my name already sharpened into a weapon.
My office hums softly around me, screens glowing, calls queued, decisions waiting to be made, but my attention is elsewhere.
With her uncles.
With the wire transfer.
With the calculated risk I took knowing exactly how badly it would wound her.
I don’t regret it.
That doesn’t mean it didn’t cost me something.
Long before Lucia, I learned that blind trust is for fools and the dead. My father made sure of that.
He was old-school Dragoni in the truest sense: iron rules, iron hand, loyalty bought in blood and repaid the same way.
