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"Too bad. The feds are looking for you, and I'm not going to risk you being seen with me and implicating myself in that sting operation." My tone is firm, leaving no room for argument.
"Fine," Lulu huffs, holding up her phone. "At least remove the child protections you put on this thing so I can go online."
"Nice try," I laugh, shaking my head. "Behave yourself, Lulu."
"You're insufferable," she mutters as I close the door behind me. I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to stave off the headache I know is coming.
Another day begins.
As I move away from Lulu's door, her string of Spanish curses fading behind me, the memory of how she came under my care resurfaces. It was a setup—a mob meeting that should've been attended by Primo, not me. Her father had tried to sell her hand in marriage to my older brother like she was some sort of commodity. The entire ordeal went South. The cops showed up, there was a shootout, and Lulu ended up with a bullet in her shoulder.
I remember the cowardice in her father's eyes as he abandoned his wounded daughter on the sidewalk, fleeing to save his own skin. He got what he deserved, though—arrested and now on trial in the Southern District of Florida for major drug crimes.
I step into the crisp morning air. The sun is just beginning to rise, casting a golden glow over the Maldonado estate. My Lucid Air Grand Touring—a sleek, electric sedan—sits in the driveway, patiently waiting for me. It's a car that not only represents luxury but also my commitment to the environment. A necessary image, considering some of my businesses invest in pipelines and oil drilling.
Sliding into the driver's seat, I appreciate the smooth leather beneath me and the silence of the electric engine. As I pull away from the mansion and make my way through the winding roads, the cityscape of Boston finally comes into view, towering skyscrapers catching the first light of day.
Everything about my days are consistent. My breakfast, my commute, my walk to the office. My top-floor suite is a testament to modernity, with floor-to-ceiling glass windows that offer a panoramic view of the sights below. It's a space that exudes power and control—two things I've come to crave since taking the reins of the Maldonado family.
The weight of that responsibility presses down on me, heavier each day. When Primo was on trial for murder, I seized power through legitimate means, placing myself at the head of our family's empire. It was a decision I grappled with, but ultimately, I knew it was best for all of us. And while I'm glad Primo has chosen to support me in this endeavor—helping me move our family away from crime—it's a burden that never seems to lighten.
"Lost in thought again?" my very pregnant assistant, Mariana, asks as she waddles into my office.
"Seems like it," I admit with a half-smile. "What am I going to do without you when you're gone?"
"Relax, Giovanni. It's just maternity leave, not forever." She rolls her eyes, easing herself into a chair. "Besides, I've already got a temp lined up. You'll manage."
"Right." I chuckle, though the prospect of navigating this world without her assistance—even temporarily—fills me with dread.
"Your brother is here to see you," she informs me, and I nod, grateful for the distraction. Primo's presence always seems to ground me, reminding me that I'm not alone in this.
"Primo!" I exclaim, relief washing over me as my brother strides into my office, his powerful frame filling the doorway. His deep-set brown eyes lock onto mine, and instantly, I know he senses that something's off.
"Hey, Gio." He gives me a knowing grin. "What's eating you? You look like you've seen a ghost."
I let out a chuckle, running a hand through my dark hair. "You're not too far off. Remember Lucia Manuel? The Cuban boss's daughter?"
"Ah, Lulu." Primo nods, his face lighting up with recognition. "What about her?"
"I've been keeping her at the mansion," I confess, watching as realization dawns on his features.
"Shit, man," he laughs, shaking his head. "I thought you were using the place to see hookers or something. I was gonna have a talk with you about it."
"Ha! I wish my relationship with Lulu was as easy as that," I reply, leaning back in my chair and sighing. "She's a handful, to say the least. If only I could just pay her off and be done with her."
"How'd she end up there anyway?" Primo asks, his brow furrowing.
"Remember Miami? She was supposed to marry you—or rather, her father thought she was marrying you. She got shot in the shoulder during the fallout, and I couldn't just leave her there to die." I pause, exhaling heavily. "Her father's on trial now for major drug crimes, so I'm stuck playing warden."
"Damn, Gio," Primo scratches the back of his neck, looking genuinely remorseful. "I'm sorry. That's kinda my fault. I knew that agent was trying to set us up. I was supposed to be down there, but you got caught in the crossfire instead."
"Hey, it's all right," I insist, waving off his apology. "That was a different time. We've moved past it, and we're doing our best to distance ourselves from that life now, right?"
"Right." He nods solemnly, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "You've come a long way since then. We both have. So, what's the plan for Lulu?" Primo inquires, leaning against the edge of my desk. His brow furrows with concern, and I can sense he's genuinely worried about my predicament.
"Right now, I'm just keeping her locked up at the mansion," I admit with a sigh. "It's not ideal, but it's the best I can do until I figure out a more permanent solution."
Primo raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "And how exactly are you making her stay put? She doesn't seem like the type to take orders willingly."
