Page 36 of The Boss

Standing from my desk, my eyes fixated on the ever-growing pile of documents, I shake my head and sigh, heading out of my office towards the kitchen. Inside, I see Juliet sitting at the table with her head buried in her computer, much like it is most days. I stand in the doorway watching her. Her long dark hair is tied in a bun, and she wears the same light makeup as always, with jeans and a black long-sleeve shirt. It’s effortlessly beautiful. Absolutely perfect on her.

Earlier this morning, I saw her in her dance studio for the first time in weeks. With Mateo gone, stress levels are extremely high, so, understandably, she’s been dancing less and less. But seeing her discard one of the things that brought her great joy hurts me.

I clear my throat, and she looks up. “I should get you an office setup upstairs. There’s plenty of spare rooms.”

“It’s okay, I like working down here,” she replies.

“I know you do, but you need a space to work that isn’t a table or on your bed.”

She blushes because she knows I caught her. She’s been spending late nights in her room looking at things, and she thinks I haven’t noticed. But I have. I notice a lot and remember much more, especially when it comes to her.

“I’m thinking the room across the hall next to the first bathroom will work,” I say.

“Gino, that's the room across from your office,” she replies, giving me a flat look.

“I know.”

I want her close. I need her close. I can’t have her out of my sight.

This unknown number is persistent. The messages have continued, but none have been of importance. And the more that comes, the more it seems like this person is trying to get information from us rather than help us, like they want to make us believe. All we want is to know who they are, so we continue to let the messages come and have them believe they’re helping, even though they seem to be moving at the same pace as us.

She sighs. We’ve been doing a push and pull with each other for years. She doesn’t say yes right away because she doesn’t want to look weak. But she doesn’t realize she has never, and will never, look weak to me. Since the day we met, she hasn’t been a single ounce weak.

“Gino, I’m not going to get an office upstairs because you’re telling me to. I’m not going to let you do what you did when I moved in.”

I look up, knowing she’s still annoyed with me about that.

When my father died, I wanted her closer, and so instead of staying in the apartment she was renting, she moved in, having realized I wouldn’t take no for an answer. And I also think it worked in my favor to have some of the guys convince her.

“This isn’t the same. You’re not technically moving anywhere, and it’ll be more comfortable for you,” I say.

“You’re not going to let me say no, are you?” She gives me a half smile.

“I think you already know the answer,” I tell her. “Why are you arguing with me on this? This is to help you.”

“I know it just seems a little out of the blue. Why didn’t you do this when I moved in, hmm?”

“I tried, but you pushed back enough on moving in. I didn't want to push it too hard,” I say.

“Gino, why are you so hell-bent on having me around? Honestly?” She looks at me flatly. If she only knew.

“I need you close. You’re my third in command, I guess⁠—”

“You did not just use a mafia term to describe our relationship,” she cuts me off, laughing.

“What? You are, and considering we still can’t find Mateo, that makes you my second by default,” I say.

“Giovanni,” she scolds. “Why isn’t anyone else your second? Why is it me?”

“Since the start, it’s been like that; you know this.”

“No, I didn’t know. We really need to work on your communication skills,” she says seriously.

She’s probably right. I’m not the best at communicating, but there are things I don’t want to tell everyone. Not everyone needs to know everything. Well, some things I’ve kept, they should know, but I don’t want everyone to be under the same pressure that I am. I still feel guilty, knowing they didn’t sign up for this mafia life. They thought we’d do it for a while, and then turn to something greater, namely our business plan that hasn’t followed through yet, and for that, they don’t know how sorry I am.

I let out a long breath. “You’re not wrong; I know I need to work on my communication skills. But most of you didn’t grow up in this life. I promised all of you that what happened to Mateo wouldn’t ever happen to anyone.”

“Gino, you can’t predict the future,” she says, her voice low. “We all knew what we were signing up for, and we knew it wasn’t going to be easy.”