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"What's going on is that you don’t know how to keep out of petty fights." I force my voice to come out even for this next part. "From now on, I'd appreciate it if you didn't attack my future husband."
"Your future husband, my ass," he snaps. "Tell me what's really going on."
"I'm marrying Dante Parisi, Mr. Giovanni."
Those words were hard to say, too, but no one would guess it by how they sounded. They were as sure as death. Roberto exhales in a sharp breath, something between a laugh and a scoff.
"Come on, cutie." His voice is quieter. Pained. "Where are you? I want you to look me in the eye and repeat that because I don’t…it doesn't make sense. He's shit, and he'd treat you like shit. You deserve better—you deserve everything, Giulia, and you can't marry that motherfucker."
I should be glad that it seems like he's starting to buy what I'm saying, but instead, it hurts to hear. I swipe a tear off my cheek and give a haughty huff.
"That's the last time you try telling me what to do, and this is our last contact. From now on,leave me alone."
I hang up quickly and fight a sob that tries to escape. My phone rings again, and I fumble to hang up his call. I also block his number because this is painful enough without having to be constantly reminded of him by his calls. Sniffing, I wait several more minutes as I compose myself before pulling out of the parking lot and driving out of LA toward my parents' house.
On average, I visit them in their private beachside mansion near Santa Barbara a handful of times yearly. A few years ago, they used to require that my brother and I come on a set Friday every month, saying it was to keep ourselves centered as a family though mostly we talked about Russo business. I even had to fly home once a month while studying at Princeton so they could see me report my successes in person.
But they started to loosen up a little before Antonio met his wife, Bea. Now we only come here when it's of utmost importance and secrecy since my father prefers to run things in LA from a safe distance.
After over an hour of trying not to cry and getting myself entirely composed, I park and knock on the front door, glancing out over the shimmering ocean. Their views are incredible, although neither of my parents is particularly fond of the beach. I personally love it, and I've considered getting property near the ocean or some lake someday.
The door opens, and my mother blinks. "Darling, what are you doing here?"
"I'm here to speak with you and Father. Is now a good time?"
She twists a curl of her dark hair. I got that from her, although hers are always impeccable, and mine refuse to be tamed—there's always one trying to escape somewhere. After a moment, my mother finally sighed and let me in, clearly unhappy that I didn't call beforehand as they'd asked.
"Your father and I were just sitting down to lunch. Come on."
I follow her through the vaulted, ornately decorated rooms filled with sunlight and expensive art. My parents have a taste for excellence and accept nothing less. While my mother's interior designer ensured my apartment was tastefully minimalistic, she ensured their sprawling mansion suited them even better: vaulted ceilings, gilded decorations, everything in its proper place, and showcasing their flair for power and finesse.
Finally, I sit beside my mother in their sun-filled dining room. My father watches me from the head of the table, curious but composed as ever. They're eating something Italian—Mother hired her favorite chef directly from a Michelin-starred restaurant in Florence.
They say nothing for a moment. Internally, I brace myself. I know what I have to say will disappoint them, and I've never done that before. I don’t know what to expect, but this is long overdue.
"I'm resigning from theVitalenassignment."
My mother inhales sharply beside me, but my father's gaze doesn't waver across the table. I got my green eyes from him and much of my personality but little else. Antonio looks more like him, with darker hair and such large stature. Russos, in general, is an intimidating group to face, but my immediate family is even more so. All of us are tall, intense, and fiercely proud.
"Youare resigning? Tell me why," Father finally demands, still pinning me in place with his gaze.
"Frank. Our daughter might be hungry. Let's let the chef know before delving into this."
He frowns at my mother, but I clear my throat. "No, thank you. I ate earlier."
It's uncomfortable in here. They are studying me like they want to interrogate me, but neither is jumping in. I've clearly surprised them, but they aren't verbally annihilating me the way I expected.
I didn't want to be the one to dive right in, but I sat up straighter and looked between them. "Both before graduating and since, I've ensured the number of high-value connections and assets the Russos have in their back pocket has multiplied. Considering how expansive our reach is, wouldn't you both agree that our family's finances have been immaculately handled?"
Father is still examining me with a frown ghosting across his brow. "We expected nothing less from you, Giulia."
"Exactly my point. I've done everything expected of me. More, even. I've worked my ass off, andno onecan say I haven't given the family my all," I say, looking at each of them meaningfully. "But we all know the toll of our lifestyle. Secrecy, danger, constantly looking over our shoulders…I need a break from it. I'm taking time away, and I suggest you appoint a new Russo representative for theVitalendeal."
My mother's mouth drops a little before she remembers to close it, and she shakes her head a little. "You…want abreak?You?"
I press my lips together. "Why is that so unbelievable?"
"Darling, never in all your life has this happened. I consistently received concerned calls from your private school instructors when you were in school because you refused to go out for recess with the other children. You didn't even come home for holidays while you were at Princeton.Buon Dio,you've never taken a vacation."
