Chapter 75

Chapter 75
Gio POV: 

We did our best to find moments of peace and solitude together. Moments where the Italian sun shone through our cloudy city sky. I would dance with her in the kitchen after a day of organizing witnesses. 

My men were stretched thin trying to combat the open holes that Domenico could attempt to squeeze through. 

A few of his old drug makers had agreed to plea deals if they testified against him. Fraccini folded the second Domenico was taken into custody. He agreed to corroborate everything on the Swiss bank account. He knew once we had the evidence, the only bet he had at living was putting Domenico away. 

After he was put in custody, he immediately began campaigning for a specific judge, he would’ve gotten it too if the director hadn’t stopped his string pulling and had him assigned a random judge. It seemed Domenico was putting pressure on someone to fix the jury as well, we only know because he pressed on the wrong person. The flighty little boy almost passed out just telling Mosley he’d been threatened. After that, jury selection was on lockdown. 

Soon enough, we were heading to trial. Judge and jury selected fairly as best we could hope, I still was concerned somehow he’d gotten his hooks into any one of them. We did our best to defend them, but it wasn’t perfect.  

I could see that it was getting to her, too, the fear that we had missed something. Of course, more was on her mind than that, still, no word on Blake or her sister. She felt a responsibility to Blake, and though there was little respect for her sister, I know she still had some sentimentality for her. 

Guilia has been carted off, god knows where, by her father, and unfortunately, he wasn’t telling. He knew he was going to get hit with kidnapping charges, but he didn’t seem to care. In fact, according to Mosley, he seemed quite calm for the situation he was in. Ever since the incident with the jury and eerie peacefulness had settled on Domenico Caputo. Which worried me all the more. 

He didn’t seem afraid. I wasn’t sure why, but he had something up his sleeve, or at least he wanted us to think that. 

“Are you ready?” I asked her as we sat outside the court. 

She was frozen, staring ahead, her eyes lost in a trance as she nodded mutely to me. She wasn’t, but there was nothing I could do; we had to go in. 

We walked in, and she did what she always does when she feels less than; she straightened herself out and put on a brave face. Never one to back down from a fight. I held her hand and waited for them to cart him out the big boogeyman. 

His few loyal followers remained by his side, hoping their valiant liege would come out unscathed. 

We sat down behind the prosecutor's team. The DA was chomping at the bit to convict; he was up for reelection, and this practically bought him the win. 

She held tightly onto my hand, her eyes trained on the door he would come out. She held her breath as he came out with his wicked grin as his eyes landing on her.  

She gripped my hand tightly, looking down at the floor for only a second, to anybody else it would be passing, but I saw her pull herself together all in the span of a breath. My beautiful, brave woman, facing her fears without showing it. 

They began with their opening remarks, the defense wailing about a corrupt justice department angling to take away a hardworking man’s riches when the D.A. got up. 

“Let’s all be honest here. We know what this man has done; anybody who has lived in this city knows what this villain is capable of. Sending his thugs into the city to start a riot, bullying business owners, blackmailing rivals, and committing tax fraud. These are all just the start of what this man is capable of. There isn’t a person in this city who doesn’t know the sting of his power. We know that he lies and chases and steals, and harasses to get what he wants. He will stop at nothing to keep his grip on all of us, to keep his power over this city, and enjoy his spoils while we all rot and cower. We don’t need to give him any more opportunities to get away from justice, which he may attempt to turn into a dirty word, but that’s only for his benefit.” 

It was a strong opening, and the jury seemed responsive. Perhaps, though, I could have imagined it for my benefit. 

It was hard not to get bored with the legal jargon listening to them drone on about what would and wouldn’t be allowed in evidence. After what felt like ages, we were finally released and headed out for the day. 

I felt like it was never-ending, leaving the courthouse. That day seemed to drag on; what the days we had to be on the stand might take eons. I looked over at her, tired from the day's proceedings. I tapped the driver's seat and asked him to head to a restaurant. 

“Oh, please, I don’t feel like being surrounded by people,” she begged. 

“No, we need food, and we’re both too out of it to cook. Sustenance over comfort besides…”I trailed off, realizing my argument was entirely correct. “We can’t let him think we’re beaten down,” 

She sighed, leaning into her seat and turning to me with puppy dog eyes. “You really think he cares enough to watch?” 

I stared back, we both knew the answer. He would have eyes on her, he would want to know every facial expression she had over the next couple of weeks in order to calculate how to respond. 

So we got out of the car, and once again a mask fell over her face. She smiled brightly and held onto my hand, the perfect image of a carefree girl in love. 

In moments like that, I realize how much like her father she was. She didn’t hide it anymore, she could play the game very well. So we went into the restaurant and we ate our dinner all the while people around us in hushed whispers talked about the trial. 

“Do you think she was in on it?” 

“Do you think they’re really in love?” 

“Do you know the sister is missing?” 

“Do you think he had her killed?” 

“Do you think he’ll actually go to prison?” A woman asked her friend, slurring her words as they toddled back from the bathroom. I was sure that if she were sober, she would have been quieter. 

I watched the fear crack her mask for a second before she took a sip of her wine, a sadness in her eyes as she composed herself. 

I grabbed her hand and kissed it, staring at her, promising silently it would all be alright. I looked at her, hoping she understood my message: don’t listen to them, they don’t know what they’re talking about. 

She pulled herself together as we ate, and I thought for the millionth time. 

We never should have left Italy.