Chapter 91 Choices
GIOVANNI’S POV
The laughter grated against my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Franco's booming voice, the girls' high-pitched giggles, Salvatore's crude jokes, all of it pressed against my skull until I thought it might crack.
I couldn't take it anymore.
"Everyone out!" I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the marble floor. "All of you. Get the fuck out now."
Silence fell like a hammer. The girls stared at me, wide-eyed, then scrambled toward the door when I took a step forward.
Within seconds, the room was empty except for Franco, Alessio, Salvatore, Enzo, and me.
I was breathing hard, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.
Franco leaned back in his chair, cigar smoke curling around his face. "Feel better?"
"No." I grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured myself another glass, my hand shaking. "I don't feel better."
"Then talk," Franco said simply. "Tell me what happened."
So I did.
The words came out in a torrent and when I spoke about Arya, the betrayal twisted in my already sore chest.
My voice cracked on her name, and I hated myself for it.
I hated that even now, even knowing what she'd done, part of me still wanted to believe it was a mistake.
I downed the drink, welcoming the burn. This should be my fifth glass now but I was nowhere close to getting drunk.
Franco watched me with those calculating eyes, taking a long drag of his cigar. "I know."
I froze. "What?"
"I already know. Word travels fast in our world, Giovanni. By morning, everyone will know you were hit hard." He tapped ash into a crystal tray. "The question is, what are you going to do about it?"
"That's why I'm here," I said through gritted teeth.
"You should have never trusted a Vitale," Alessio said quietly, leaning against the desk. "Their family is poison."
"I know that now." The admission burned.
Salvatore laughed and it was mocking. "The great Giovanni De Santis, brought down by a pretty face and a warm bed. Who would have thought?"
I was across the room before I consciously decided to move, my hand fisting in his collar. "Say that again."
"Boss." Enzo's warning voice cut through the red haze. "He's not worth it."
I released Salvatore with a shove, but the rage was still there, simmering just beneath my skin.
Franco stood, moving between us with the easy authority of a man who commanded respect for decades. "Enough." He placed a hand on my shoulder.
"You're like a son to me, Giovanni. What happened to your family all those years ago..." He shook his head. "It breaks my heart to see you hurt again."
The genuine grief in his voice made something tight in my chest loosen fractionally.
"I need options," I said. "They have our blueprints. Every operation, every safe house, we're exposed."
"Then you disappear." Franco returned to his chair, gesturing for me to sit. I did, too exhausted to argue. "Take your core people and regroup. My estate in Sardinia is yours for as long as you need it."
"And while we're hiding?" I couldn't keep the bitterness from my voice. "What happens to our territories?"
"You rebuild," Alessio said, leaning forward. "You already have the knowledge, it's all in your head. You create new blueprints, and make them better than before."
It made sense but it was also risky. Very very risky.
"And I'll lend you men," Franco added. "Between them and Enzo holding down your current operations, you'll maintain enough presence that the vultures won't circle."
Hope flickered in my chest. "You would really do all of that?”
Franco smiled, but it was sad. "Your father was my friend. And you've proven yourself worthy of that friendship.”
"I'll pay you back," I promised. "Whatever it costs-“
"Just get revenge on those bastards." Franco's eyes hardened. "That's payment enough."
I nodded, something like a smile pulling at my lips. "Consider it done."
We spent the next hour working through the plan and by the time we finished, I felt slightly relieved.
Alessio walked us out, his hand on my shoulder as we reached the cars.
"You'll bounce back from this," he said quietly. "You're a survivor, Gio. Always have been."
I scoffed. "I don't feel like one right now."
"That's because you're still bleeding." Alessio pulled me into a hug, and I allowed it, drawing strength from this childhood friend who had seen me at my worst before. "But you will heal and when you do, you'll be unstoppable."
"Thank you," I said roughly. "For everything."
"That's what family is for."
I walked back into my car, Enzo slipping into the driver’s seat to take the wheel. I suddenly realized why he didn’t drink earlier.
Smart man.
The drive back was silent. Enzo kept glancing at me, but I stared out the window, watching the city blur past.
"Are you really going to do it?" he finally asked. "Leave?"
"I'll do whatever it takes to protect our people." My voice was flat. "Franco's right. We need to regroup. If we stay here exposed, we're just targets."
He sighed before asking. "And the business here?"
"You'll hold it." I turned to look at him. "I trust you to keep everything running until I can return."
Enzo nodded slowly. "What about... her?"
Arya. Even hearing the pronoun made my chest ache.
"Treat her like she was always meant to be," I said coldly. "A prisoner."
The estate was quiet when we returned. Most of the bodies had been cleared, but the destruction remained.
Bloodstains. Bullet holes. Shattered glass. They were all evidence of my failure.
I headed straight for my room, needing to pack, and do anything other than think about the girl locked away somewhere in this house.
But I heard it, down the corridor.
"Giovanni?"
Her voice was weak, like she had been crying or screaming.
I froze in the hallway, my hand on my door handle.
"Giovanni, please." She was louder now. "I need to talk to you. Please. I'm begging you."
My jaw clenched. Every instinct screamed at me to ignore her and let her rot in that room for what she'd done.
But her voice pulled at something I thought I had successfully buried. I stood there, staring at my door, her voice washing over me.
"I didn't do it. I swear I didn't do it. Please, you have to believe me."
Liar.
I forced myself to move and open my door.
But she called again. "Giovanni!" Her voice cracked. "GIOVANNI!"
My legs carried me into the room and slammed the door behind me, the sound echoing through the hallway.
I leaned against the door, my eyes closed, my fists clenched so hard my nails drew blood from my palms.
There was no way I would go to her or listen to more lies.
She made her choice when she met with Marco and I made mine when I locked her away.