AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh?” One of his thick, iron-grey eyebrows rises again. “And what is that, Alessio?”
“I will resign my position as Luca Romano’s consigliere. I will remain in Chicago and take Giacomo’s place as don, as you have asked. But I willnotmarry Gianna. Instead, I will take her on as my ward. I will be her protector and caretaker, until an appropriate husband can be found for her, one who does not have designs on her father’s legacy, one who appreciates what Giacomo built here and wishes to raise it higher through marriage, not absorb it into his own family line. Those suitors who wish to seek a marriage contract with her may approach me and court her under my supervision. When a husband is to be chosen for her, it will be withmyapproval alone. There will be stipulations, including that the man who marries Gianna must be willing to take on her name.”
Fontana frowns. “You do understand that means that only those outside of the three highest families will look to marry her? Leone will not sacrifice their family name for hers. Neither will the Marino family. They would insist that she hand over her name and wealth to them.”
“Which means neither of their heirs will be considered,” I tell Fontana coolly. “Only those who respect the storied history of the Mancini family will be allowed to court Gianna. With my supervision, Giacomo’s wishes will be fulfilled to the best of my ability—she will be married to a man who will respect her and her family’s legacy, and who will bring it forward into the next generation.” I nod to Fontana. “After all, it is respect, and not ambition, that raises a man in the esteem of the Family, is it not?”
Fontana chuckles. “Son, no man rises here without ambition. But I take your meaning.” He lets out a long breath, glancing at the other men assembled, all of whom have let him speak. It’s a pointed nod to what I’d said already—that respect is what’s most important here. I can’t give in to Giacomo’s wishes or Fontana’s, not entirely. But I can do something to prevent Enzo Leone from taking what he wants from Giacomo’s family. I can do something to protect Gianna.
You could do more.The small, insidious whisper in my head grows a little louder, an ember of desire flickering in my belly. Icoulddo more. I could do what’s written out in the will and marry Gianna. I could marry hernow, without waiting more than a few months, the appropriate time to allow her to grieve, not the three years I would have otherwise been asked to wait. In a few months, she could be in my bed. It could be our wedding night, her slender body wrapped in the silk and lace of bridal lingerie, her sweet mouth upturned to mine, her soft skin—
My teeth grind against each other until I think they might crack, forcing the thoughts out of my head.No, I tell myself, ignoring the twitching throb of my cock, the heat that fills my blood at the idea of her innocence given up to my hands.This is wrong.What I want is wrong—what I feel is wrong. Nothing has changed simply because she’s grown up. Nothingcanchange.
It’s not until Fontana speaks again that I realize I’d been so lost in thought that I’d missed him conferring with the other senior members of the Family. He turns back to me, his expression firm, and I know that a decision has been made, one way or another.
“We will accept your compromise, Alessio,” Fontana tells me. “You will notify Don Romano tonight of your decision. You will move into the Mancini mansion and take on Gianna as your ward. We will discuss, at a later date, the prospect of which men will be considered as potential suitors to wed her. Until then, she is in your care.” He turns towards the door, where I see a guard standing there, dressed all in black and silent. “Bring Gianna in.”
I feel a jolt of surprise at that, and another sharp pang of anger, realizing that they’d plucked her away from the gathering to remember her father in order to bring her here to hear their decision.If I hadn’t proposed the compromise, she’d be finding out that she was meant to marry Andre Leone, right now. On the worst possible day to give her news like that.The carelessness of it feels astounding, and if there was any question in my mind about the rightness of my decision to stay and protect Gianna, it’s gone in that moment.
The guard nods, stepping out, and a few moments later, the door opens again. This time, Gianna steps inside, pale-faced with red-rimmed eyes, her gaze flicking nervously over the gathered men sitting there.
“You said you wanted to speak with me?” she says softly, still standing rooted to the spot, and I rise without thinking, crossing the room to her. No one else has stood or offered her a seat—she’s a tool to them, a means to expand or redistribute power as they see fit, nothing more. But to me—
What is she to you, exactly?That insidious voice is in my thoughts again, but I ignore it. I take her elbow, gently, trying not to look too closely at the way her wide blue eyes turn up sweetly to look at me as I guide her to where I was sitting before—in front of Fontana, since I know he’s the one who wants to speak with her.
“A decision has been made about your future, Gianna,” he says, not unkindly, but I feel my jaw tighten anyway, that protective urge flaring in me once again. “Alessio has said he will stay here in New York and accept the title and responsibilities of don, as your father wished. However, he has chosen not to accept the offer extended by your father that the two of you marry. He has requested that we leave you in his care as his ward instead, a suggestion that we have chosen to accept. Your husband will be chosen at a later date, a responsibility that Alessio has agreed to take on, as well. In fact—” Fontana looks at me, his lips pressed together thinly. “He insisted on it.”
“Oh,” Gianna says the word softly, but there’s no protest from her. Her gaze flicks to mine momentarily, catching me before I can look away. I see something that almost looks like disappointment on her face. I don’t know why, exactly—is she disappointed that I’m staying? That I’ll be the one choosing her husband? Or something else entirely.
“My father told me nothing about what he planned for me or his business once he had passed away,” Gianna says quietly. “So if that is your decision, then I will abide by it. But I would like to see the will, please.”
There’s a quiet steel to her tone that startles me. She’s sitting straight in her chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap, but for the first time, I see something in her that tells me she’s no wilting flower. She won’t defy them outright, but neither is she going to take whatever they say without some evidence that she’s not being entirely used.
I feel a flicker of pride, watching her—and something else, something that I don’t want to look at too closely. She holds out her hand, and Mr. Smithwick hesitates for a moment until Fontana nods, and he hands it over. I don’t miss the way Gianna’s mouth tightens at that, seeing that the lawyer waited for Fontana’s approval before handing over her own father’s will, but she says nothing. She simply takes the portfolio, opening it, and begins to read the document silently.
Long minutes stretch out without anyone speaking. I watch as Gianna flips through it, her face somber and pale, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. It’s not until the very end that I see one drip down off of her lashes, and then another. I have to clench my hand against the side of my leg to keep from stepping forward and wiping it away from her cheek.
“Very well,” she says softly, closing the portfolio and handing it back to Mr. Smithwick. “I’ll do as you and Alessio have decided. When will he come to stay at the house?”
“Tonight,” Fontana says, before I can open my mouth, and I fix him with a dark look.
“Tomorrow,” I amend. “Gianna can manage one night on her own, certainly, with the staff there at the mansion. I’ll spend one more night at my hotel and make arrangements in the morning for my things to be packed up at my home in New York and flown here, and I can take up residence in the Mancini mansion, as requested. But I think Gianna deserves at least one night without a near-stranger in her house.”
“You’re not a stranger,” she says quietly, her gaze flicking to mine again, but I think I see a hint of gratitude in her face. “Tomorrow, then.”
It’s not until I’m back at my hotel that I call Luca. He answers after the first ring, his voice grave and serious. “Don Fontana contacted me,” he says, and I feel a hot flush of angry resentment that Fontana couldn’t even allow me to let Luca know what was decided myself, on my own time.
“I thought he would let me inform you,” I say quietly, my voice terse. “But I see that’s not the case.”
“Of course. I don’t think you were keeping it from me. And I can’t say I’m surprised. I thought that something like this might be the result, considering—” Luca lets out a slow breath on the other end of the line. “Considering your history with Don Mancini.”
History. The word is a vast understatement. “They wanted me to marry her. I refused, of course.” I clear my throat. “But this way, at least, the future of the Mancini name will be decided by me, as Giacomo wanted. It’s the best I could do.”
“Of course,” Luca echoes, but I can hear some doubt in his voice—about what, exactly, I’m not sure. “I was told that they requested you remain in Chicago, rather than returning to New York to settle your own affairs.”
“That’s right.” I run a hand through my hair, eyeing the minibar in my room. “I’ll have someone collect what I need from my apartment and have it shipped here. I don’t plan to let the place go, for now, at least. Things may change.”
“I doubt it,” Luca says wryly. “Once Fontana has decided something, it rarely changes. But I can appreciate your reasoning.” He pauses. “If things should change, Alessio—I’m going to have to replace you as consigliere, sooner rather than later. I won’t be able to simply change that, if you come back.”
