It’s hard to believe that just days ago, I was actually starting to see a brighter future ahead. I’m going to be a father soon, the sister that my brothers and I thought we’d lost decades ago has miraculously reappeared alive and well, and as for Candi—I’ve realized that she’s the only woman for me. Which has been a long and hard revelation to arrive at.
Any connection I’ve felt with her in the past has been swiftly pushed away, buried, denied. I told myself that my coldness was an act of self-defense, and that I didn’t need anyone. That letting her in was dangerous, and keeping my distance was for the best. This is how I’ve operated my entire life. Family first, and no room for anybody else. Armor on at all times.
But the truth is, I’ve been a coward. I’ve been scared of Candi Gallagher ever since my brother hired her on as a freelance distributor for Bellanti Vineyards. I still remember the first time we met, when Dante made me attend her onboarding meeting with HR. I’d been expecting to shake our new distributor’s hand, welcome her to the fold, and then promptly forget her.
Instead, I haven’t stopped thinking about her since.
Candi and I had an instant connection, our eye contact sparking a jolt of electricity, both of us smiling like we were already sharing an inside joke. After that, it was all I could do to walk that fine line between cordiality and shameless flirting whenever I ran into her, but I always forced myself to keep a safe distance between us. Now, I can’t believe I deprived myself of her for so long. She’s the only woman in my adult life who’s made me feel…accepted. Safe.
Home.
She’s given me something I used to scoff at the mere idea of; something I never imagined I had any interest in. Something I never believed was even truly possible outside of historical romance poetry and Hallmark movies: unconditional love. And as much as I tried to shut her out, she’s slowly but surely smoothed all the rough edges of my stone heart, honed it to a fine polish.
But some broken part of me is still holding back. Even though I know that if I die tomorrow, I’ll never get the chance to say I love her.
Yes, I’m aware that I should just tell her now, while I still can. Blurt it out, get it over with, like ripping off a Band-Aid. Yet for some reason, whenever I even get close to spilling my guts, the words won’t come out. My throat closes up, my chest goes tight. I shut down.
Because I can’t make myself that vulnerable around her, or anyone. It’s dangerous. Imprudent. Irrevocable. And I can’t shake the conviction that admitting how I feel will make me weaker, somehow. Less invincible, less powerful, less in control.
If I say “I love you” out loud, I’ll be giving Candi a form of power over me. It’s more than that, though. Saying the words makes the emotions real, it puts them out in the world. If I don’t acknowledge them, I can keep denying them. And I can’t be hurt if she walks away.
Or if my enemies take her out.
How long can I keep running from her, though? How many times can I keep pushing her away before she turns her back on me for good? She doesn’t deserve any of it. She deserves better. A decent man wouldn’t keep hiding, but then…I’m not sure I’m a decent man.
I am, however, a man who lives by a code. A code that’s tattooed right over my heart, in thick black ink.Famiglia,onore,forza.Family. Honor. Power. This is my code. All the things I live for, fight for. The things I’m willing to die for.
There’s no way around this war but straight through it, and if I don’t do something drastic to save my family, there’s no telling how hard the Bratva will come down on us. How they managed to fill a wine cask with blood is a mystery I’m still trying to unravel. Our cask room is guarded with a full-time staff. No one is allowed in except employees and members of the immediate family. Yet, somehow, one of the Bratva thugs slipped in and emptied several gallons of what we suspect is cows’ blood into the wine. Orloff’s men probably cased the whole property while he was here for that wine tasting.
There’s no telling what else the Russians are capable of after pulling off something so devious.
The sun went down a few minutes ago, and the light is starting to leave the sky. I walk out of the downstairs library and head upstairs, nodding at the guards as I go. I’ve increased security, once again, around the property and at Dante’s house to ensure that Bruno and the Bratva can’t launch any surprise attacks. Candi is still with Juliana at Frankie and Dante’s place up the road, but I’m expecting my wife home soon. For now, I’m glad that she’s not here, because I wouldn’t be able to plot out my twisted plan if I had to look at her face.
After brushing my teeth and mouthwashing the taste of scotch from my tongue, I slip out of my clothes and step into the shower. I’m trying to clear my mind, but all I can think about is Candi and our unborn child. I have to keep them safe, at all costs.
No matter which way I’ve looked at it, I’ve only come up with two viable courses of action—and I don’t like either of them. Option one: I give Juliana, my only sister, back to the Russians and the Brunos so she can proceed with her wedding and therefore solidify an alliance that will end with the destruction of my entire family. Option two: I keep my sister with us and bring a rain of fire and fury down upon us all. Either way, we all die.
Neither of those choices work for me.
Which is why I’ve come up with a third option. As I take my time in the shower, I think through my plan. There are parts of it that aren’t quite coming together yet, since I can’t predict how the Bratva will react, but I’m sure I’ll be able to think on my feet once I’m in the thick of it. I always do. Still, there’s a sinking feeling eating at my guts as I turn off the water and towel off.
Grabbing my cell phone, I check the time. Good. My lawyer should still be in his office. I dial his personal cell number and he picks up on the first ring. Considering the amount he’s paid to be at my beck and call, I’d be surprised if he didn’t. I brief him on the situation with as little detail as possible, then tell him I’ll be sending an email over shortly, informing him that I need all of my instructions to be implemented before the end of the day.
After we hang up, I grab my laptop and sit on the couch in my sitting room, still in my towel. After composing a very precise email, I send it to my lawyer and CC my entire legal team, then close the laptop and stare out the window. It’s almost full dark now, the sky a deep blue, shadows cast around the property. If I had the window open, I could probably hear crickets begin to sing, or birds calling to one another before settling in for the night. The house is hushed and quiet. How many times as a kid did I wish for the house to be this still? I always despised the noise of my brothers running around, my father’s yelling, the clamor of the staff.
I never missed that commotion as an adult. Not once.
But I do right now.
In a few months’ time, my baby’s cries will fill these rooms. Their laughter and first words. The hushed pitter-pat of their shaky first steps.
No, I realize. Somewhere better than this house, somewhere safer and more peaceful, where the Brunos and the Bratva won’t ever be able to reach my child. Candi will have more than enough money to move into a new place, far from here, wherever she chooses.
Pulling a breath through my nose, a sense of calm comes over me now that everything is in place. I’m going to hold on to this feeling and fill myself with it tomorrow. I’ll think of Candi’s face. Of my child. And I’ll be at peace.
The door opens, and I glance over from the sofa, ready to reprimand one of the new guards for not knocking first, but instead I see Candi stepping into the room.
“Armani? Why are you sitting around in a towel? Not that I’m complaining, it’s just…” She looks concerned as she sets her bag on a side table. “Are you okay?”
