CHAPTER 243: BENEATH THE CHARM

CHAPTER 243: BENEATH THE CHARM
"Where is she?" Maria repeated, her voice cracking under the weight of her desperation as she glared up at Giovanni. "Where the fuck are you keeping her, Giovanni?!"

Giovanni didn't flinch. He looked down at her, the usual razor-sharp edge in his dark eyes softening into something quiet, somber, and deeply weary. The confident smirk faded from his lips.

"She's not being kept hostage, Maria," Giovanni said softly, his voice dropping into a low, steady register. "Nobody is holding her."

Maria shook her head, tears of frustration stinging her eyes. "Don't lie to me! The hospital told me she was discharged in a coma! They said she was shot! What did you guys do to her?!"

"She took a bullet for Rosa," Giovanni said flatly, holding her gaze. "Fendir came through the back door with a gun aimed at Alex's mother. Bella threw her body over her. She saved Mama Rosa's life."

Maria froze. Her hands dropped to her sides, her mouth opening slightly as the words sank in. "She... she saved his mother?"

"Yeah," Giovanni murmured, leaning back slightly on his hands. "She's at Alex's penthouse right now. He had an entire ICU setup installed in his master bedroom. Private nurses, full monitoring. He hasn't left her side in days."

A strangled sob escaped Maria's throat. She pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, her shoulders shaking violently as the sheer horror of the past week finally crashed over her. Bella wasn't a prisoner. She was lying motionless in a bed because she had chosen to jump into the line of fire.

Giovanni didn't offer empty platitudes. He simply shifted closer, resting a heavy, warm hand on her back, letting her weep into the cold ocean air until her ragged breathing began to slow.

"I can take you to her," Giovanni said quietly after a long silence. "I can drive you to the penthouse right now."

Maria wiped her cheeks with her sleeves, swallowing hard as she shook her head. "No. No, not like this. I need... I need a few minutes to gather myself. I can't walk in looking like a mess."

Giovanni looked at his watch, taking a breath. "Well, I have to finish my street rounds. Enzo's old territory is still chaotic, and I have a few lieutenants who need reminding of who runs this city now. You can tag along in my Jeep. Once I finish, I'll take you straight to Alex."

Maria nodded silently, pulling her jacket tightly around herself as she stood up and followed him toward his matte-black Jeep.

For the next two hours, Maria sat in the passenger seat, watching a side of Giovanni she had never truly witnessed before.

She had always known him as the sarcastic, quick-witted enforcer who traded dry banter with Alexandro. But on the streets, he was Ghost.

They pulled up to a dimly lit, plush nightclub on the edge of Greco's former district. The venue was running an illicit, barely legal escort ring out of the upper VIP suites. Giovanni marched straight through the double doors, his heavy leather vest open, two enforcers trailing behind him. Maria walked a few paces behind, her eyes wide.

The club manager, a greasy man named Vane, rushed out to meet them, waving his hands defensively. "Ghost! Look, man, we're just running business like usual! The girls are consenting! They have IDs!"

Giovanni stopped in the middle of the lounge, his eyes cold as ice. "They look sixteen, Vane. Alexandro doesn't do skin trade. We shut down human trafficking three years ago."

"They're twenty-one!" Vane shouted, his face turning red. "You guys just took over and now you want to ruin our profits?! You're being absolute assholes!"

Nearby, one of the young girls standing against the velvet rope winced, her face pale and exhausted. She tried to sit down on a low leather stool.

Vane whipped around and backhanded her across the face with a loud, sickening crack. "Did I give you permission to sit down, you little bitch?!"

Before Vane could even pull his hand back, Giovanni moved.

He didn't scream. He didn't lose his temper. One second he was relaxed, casual, almost detached; the next, he transformed into an absolute monster. With horrifying speed, Giovanni grabbed Vane's right wrist, twisted it backward, and snapped his forearm straight over his knee.

A brutal snap echoed through the club.

Vane shrieked in agony, dropping to his knees. Giovanni didn't hesitate for a single fraction of a second. He grabbed the back of Vane's hair and drove a heavy knee straight into his face once, twice, three times. Bone shattered. Blood sprayed across the velvet carpet. Giovanni released him, letting the unconscious, bloody mess slump onto the floor, his heart rate entirely steady, his face devoid of a single flicker of remorse.

Maria backed against the doorframe, her throat tight with absolute horror. The speed of it, the cold, effortless casualness with which he had shattered a man's face, made her stomach turn violently. There was no hesitation. No internal conflict. It was pure, unadulterated violence executed like a routine chore.

Giovanni casually turned to the terrified girls cowering near the bar. "Go to the address on the south boulevard. Ask for Chiara. She will give you new employment. If you want to stay in hospitality, you get real pay and real hours. If you want to leave the city, she will buy your train tickets."

He stepped past Maria without looking at her, pushing the doors open into the night.

The ride toward Alexandro’s high-rise penthouse was filled with a suffocating, unbearable silence.

Maria sat huddled against the passenger door, staring straight out the window at the passing streetlights. Her hands were trembling in her lap.

"Pop the glove box," Giovanni said smoothly, his eyes never leaving the dark road ahead. "Pass me the wet wipes."

Maria reached out with a shaking hand and clicked the latch open. The compartment dropped down, revealing a compact black sidearm, a heavy tactical hunting knife, a spare magazine, and a soft pack of antibacterial wet wipes.

Her breath hitched. She pulled a few wipes from the pack and handed them over, shutting the compartment with a soft snap.

Giovanni took them without a word. He drove with his left hand on the wheel while casually wiping the fresh, dark blood off his knuckles, his skin, and the leather strap of his watch. He tossed the stained wipes into the small trash bin in the center console, entirely unbothered.

The realization hit Maria like a physical blow. Having wet wipes stocked next to a gun just to clean human blood off his hands was simply his everyday reality. This was his normal.

A cold wave of revulsion swept through her chest. This was the exact reason she had fought so hard to escape to London. This was why she wanted a clean degree, a quiet life, and a future far away from Citernera. Growing up under the shadow of her own father, a man whose casual brutality and dark temper had ruined every room he stepped into, Maria had sworn she would never attach herself to that world again.

Yet here she was, sitting in the passenger seat of a killer's Jeep, her chest aching with a ridiculous, terrifying crush on a man who carried the exact same bloody darkness as her terrible father.

Why do I do this to myself? she thought bitterly, pressing her head against the cool window glass. Why him?