Even recalling the time I used to fuck Gabriella repulses me in a way it never did before.
This is new.
I’ve never been possessive like this. Women were always interchangeable. Bodies. Release. Transaction. Gabriella, and others before her. Pleasant diversions, nothing more.
Violet is different.
I don’t understand why. She’s not mine yet. But my body has already decided, and my mind is catching up.
Mine. Only mine.
The thought of being legally bound to another woman while Violet exists is intolerable.
I could kill Gabriella. Eliminate the problem permanently. But that comes with its own set of complications. The Rossi family would demand blood. Cicero would lose his mind. War, potentially. All my hard work on the side could get exposed. Not worth the risk.
Better to dissolve the engagement cleanly. Trade something the Rossis want more than a marriage alliance.
My phone is in my hand before I make a conscious decision.
Valente answers on the second ring. “Boss.”
“I need information on the Rossi family. Everything. What do they want more than anything?”
Pause. “The Rossis?”
“Find out. I don’t care how.”
“When do you need it?”
“Yesterday.”
He knows better than to ask why. “I’ll have something for you by morning.”
I end the call.
This is strategy, I tell myself.Not sentiment.I can’t properly possess Violet while engaged to another. The marriage is a distraction. An obstacle. Removing it is practical.
Cicero will rage.
Good. Fuck Cicero.
The Syndicate will question.
Let them.
Violet is worth the political complications.
I’ve watchedthe courtyard footage seven times by morning.
Paused it at specific moments. When she kissed me back. When my hand disappeared under her dress. When her mouthfell open and her head tipped back and she came apart on my fingers.
I’ve come three times. Would be more, but my body has limits even my mind doesn’t want to acknowledge.
The phone rings just as I’m considering another viewing.
Cicero.
I answer on the third ring because ignoring him only makes him worse.
