Chapter 106 Moving on
GIOVANNI’S POV
“Giovanni!” Someone else yelled, probably Alessio. I ignored him as well.
This was what I wanted and Julio was finally giving it to me.
He landed an uppercut that sent me staggering. My vision went dark at the edges. Then his knee caught me in the ribs, and I went down.
The concrete was cold against my cheek. Boots appeared in my limited vision and someone was yelling. But the sounds got further away, like I was underwater.
Finally, my eyes closed and everything stopped existing.
I woke up to pain everywhere. My face felt stiff and my ribs screamed with each breath, even my fucking hair hurt.
Blurry figures swam into focus. Alessio, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. Enzo, sitting on the edge of... my bed?
I was home?
"Welcome back," Alessio said dryly. "Enjoy your nap?"
I tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. Everything hurt worse than before.
"Easy," Enzo said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You've got three cracked ribs, a concussion, and your hand is even more fucked up than before. Doctor says you're lucky nothing's permanently damaged."
"Lucky," I croaked. My throat was raw.
"You're a mess," Alessio said, pushing off the wall. His usual smooth charm was gone, replaced with something harder. "You know that? A complete fucking mess."
"Alessio.” Enzo warned.
"No, he needs to hear this." Alessio moved closer, looming over the bed. "You just picked a fight with one of the most connected club owners in the city. Over nothing. Because you can't handle your shit."
I glared at him. "I can handle-"
"You can't handle anything!" His voice rose, cutting me off. "You're falling apart, Gio. The great Giovanni De Santis, reduced to picking bar fights like some punk kid. Your father would be ashamed."
The words hit harder than any punch from the club owner.
"Get out," I said quietly.
"Gladly." Alessio headed for the door, then paused. "Figure your shit out before you get yourself killed.”
He left, the door slamming behind him.
Silence filled the room. Enzo stayed seated, his expression unreadable.
"Don't," I said before he could start. "Whatever speech you've prepared, I don't want to hear it."
He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "He’s right, Giovanni.”
"I said don't." I closed my eyes, every breath sending fresh waves of pain through my chest. "Just... leave me alone."
Enzo sighed, long and heavy. "Rest. We'll talk when you're thinking clearly."
I turned away from him. "I'm thinking perfectly clearly."
"Sure you are." He stood, moved toward the door. "Maria will bring you food later. Try to eat something."
Then he was gone too, and I was alone with the pain and the crushing weight of everything I lost.
I forced myself out of bed, and every movement was like I was walking through pins.
With a lot of grunts and cursing, I finally made my way to the drink cabinet in the corner then I grabbed the first bottle I touched
I didn't bother with a glass. I just opened it and drank straight from the bottle, welcoming the burn.
This was her fault. All of it.
If Arya hadn't met with Marco and betrayed us, none of this would be happening.
I took another pull from the bottle, then another.
The alcohol mixed with whatever painkillers the doctor had given me, making everything soft and distant. I wanted to be anywhere except here, in this reality where everything I touched turned to ash.
I sank onto the floor, my back against the cabinet, the bottle clutched in my good hand.
"This is your fault," I muttered to the ghost of a girl who wasn't there to hear me. "All of it. You did this."
The next morning came too soon and hurt too much.
Every breath was a reminder of last night's stupidity and even the slightest movement sent fresh waves of pain through my ribs.
The cast on my hand felt heavier somehow, like a physical manifestation of everything that had gone wrong.
But I couldn't afford another day of falling apart.
So I got up, showered despite the pain, dressed in a fresh suit, and went downstairs to work.
Enzo found me in my office two hours later, surrounded by spreadsheets and a cup of black coffee cooling on the desk.
"You're up early," he said carefully, like he was approaching a wild animal.
"We have work to do." I didn't look up from the supply chain analysis I was reviewing. "The Bologna warehouse needs to be replaced. I've identified three potential locations. We need to move fast before the Riveras think they've actually won something."
He didn’t respond but I continued talking anyway.
"And I want double security on all remaining shipments. No more surprises." I made a note in the margin. "Carlo's been sloppy with the northern routes. I'm reassigning him."
"Gio, stop." Enzo moved closer, forcing me to acknowledge him. "What are you doing?"
"Working. What does it look like?"
He frowned. "It looks like you're trying to bury yourself in work so you don't have to think about-"
Lucky for him, he didn’t finish that statement so I forced a smile on my face.
"I'm moving on," I cut him off, finally meeting his eyes. "That's what you wanted, right? For me to focus on what matters. So that's what I'm doing."
Enzo studied me with open skepticism. "Moving on. Just like that."
I bobbed my head "Just like that."
"You don't move on from someone in twelve hours, Gio." He said with disbelief.
"Watch me." I turned back to my papers. "Now, about the Riveras. I want to hit them back, but smartly. Where does it hurt them most?"
Enzo sighed but didn't push further. "We recently found a drug processing plant in Genoa. I was going to tell you about it when you were sober.”
I eyed him, choosing not to respond with what I had in mind.
“Very well.” I said instead. “Set it up. I want it done within the week."
Enzo cast me another glance but I ignored him, focused on the document in my hand.