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"Sounds great." I watch him dress, his lithe form a study in grace.
The cold, hard surface of my phone presses against my palm, its glare illuminating the room. I hesitate for a moment before unlocking it, knowing that once I do, there's no turning back. The restrictions on my phone have been lifted; it's like opening a window to the world beyond Giovanni's mansion.
"Join me in the kitchen when you're ready," Giovanni calls from the doorway, his voice a tempting invitation to stay and forget about the chaos brewing back home. But I can't, not with my family at stake.
"Okay," I reply softly, trying to sound as casual as possible. The second he's out of sight, I type 'Miami' into the search bar, my heart pounding in anticipation. News story after news story pops up, each headline screaming louder than the last: my father's conviction, the crumbling of our empire, and the bloodshed left inEl Lobo'swake. As I scroll through the articles, a tight knot forms in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
I pick up my phone and text Mama, my fingers flying across the screen.
How are you? Are you safe?
Her response is almost immediate.
We're okay. Your sister and I are in hiding. Many of the men loyal to your father have abandoned or been killed.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, blurring the words on the screen. My hands tremble as I type my next message.
I’m coming back to Miami.
No. Stay where it's safe.
Staying safe isn't an option anymore. I'll see you soon.
With that, I toss the phone onto the bed and jump to my feet, pulling on clothes and stuffing essentials into a duffle bag. I can't afford to waste any more time; my family needs me.
"Ready to eat?" Giovanni asks, stepping back into the room. His eyes widen as they take in the scene before him: my frantic packing, the duffle bag now bursting at the seams.
"Did you know?" I demand, my voice tight with anger. "That my father was convicted?"
He hesitates for a moment before nodding. "Yes."
"Then why didn't you tell me?" My hands clench into fists at my sides, frustration and hurt coursing through me.
"I was trying to save you from getting upset," he explains, his expression softening as he tries to reach for me. But I step back, unwilling to let him comfort me.
"Saving me isn't your call to make," I snap. "I need to go back to Miami to protect my family."
"Lucia, no—" he protests, but I cut him off.
"You don't get to tell me that anymore," I say firmly, zipping up my duffle bag with finality. "The trial is over. They got their man, and they won't come after me for questioning anymore. Your reputation is safe."
"El Lobois active now. It's too dangerous for you to go back," Giovanni insists, his eyes filled with genuine concern.
I shake my head, unable to accept his reasoning. "People loyal to my family are dying, being killed. My mother and sister might be next. If it were your brothers, wouldn't you go? Why do you expect me not to?"
He looks uncomfortable, the weight of my words settling on his shoulders. I know he understands my need to protect my family, but his own complications prevent him from fully supporting my decision.
"Look, I'm sorry," I say, my voice softening. "But I have to go."
I pause, my heart pounding in my chest as an idea forms. "Why don't you come with me?" I ask, surprising even myself. "Help me restore my family. If you're worried about my safety, you can help keep me safe."
Giovanni's shock is evident in his widened eyes. After a moment, he replies, "With everything going on with my own family and the Irish right now, I can't leave."
His answer stings, despite the logical part of me understanding his predicament. I had hoped he might put everything aside and join me. Instead, I muster a smile. "No problem. I'll be leaving first thing in the morning."
He leaves the room, and I finish packing through a veil of tears, each item a reminder of the life I'm leaving behind.
The next morning, I stride into the mansion's lobby with a single bag slung over my shoulder. Giovanni waits for me, his expression conflicted.
