Giulio
The words my mother told me on her dying day will always be engraved within me.
All good things end. It is okay because they existed and will continue to exist in your heart, even if you cannot see them. Live in the now. Love in the now. Trust life, amore.
I was only nine years old at the time and it wasn’t until I first laid eyes on Valencia that I completely understood the severity of her words.
I recall the day we met, how Valencia entered my company with two dozen of her eager high school students by her side, ready for their art field trip. It was her first year teaching and she had blindly chosen my company, Notti Designs, as their excursion to learn how architecture and interior design can be incorporated into young minds.
That day, which also happened to be her twenty-first birthday, our hands touched for the very first time and the feeling electrified me. We both knew it was more than just a professional handshake. It was more like locking gazes and seeing our entire life in each other’s heated eyes. I never believed in soulmates or love at first sight before her, but Valencia changed all that. We looked at each other so intimately, and amid her warm grin and the wave of emotion dictating my heart, I just knew I was going to marry her.
With Valencia, I had finally found somebody to love. Somebody who knew me better than I knew myself. Somebody to share life’s achievements and nostalgic moments with. Life works in fucked up ways though. When I married the love of my life, I imagined only death would part us. I never thought we would be saying goodbye to each other and going on to live separate lives without one another. To me, it’s worse than death. It’s freaking torture because the arguments will stay with me forever, constantly echoing in my mind and manipulating me beyond repair.
We used to be so perfect together.
The fact that I needed to walk away from Valencia last night when all I wanted to do was hold her, was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I didn’t mean to yell. I didn’t mean to break her bottle of anti-depressants. I didn’t mean to be the inadequate man I was to her.
There were so many thoughts circulating in my mind, when Addilyn dominated our conversation, I struggled to get the right words out…again.
I just keep on making everything worse.
“Bye, daddy!” Slonne waves goodbye to me by the school gates and scurries off to greet her friends. I keep an eye on this Samuel kid who plants a sloppy kiss on her cheek, his firm arm slithering around her neck.
Watch it, kiddo. That’s my daughter.
I’m not ready for it, no matter how cute it may be.
“Dad? I wanna ask you something.”
Oscar is still by my side gripping his backpack straps. It’s the green dinosaur one he couldn’t take his eyes off of during first grade shopping a couple of weeks back. Oscar is the passionate type of kid, the one who doesn’t let go of what he truly desires until it’s in his little hands. He’s a fighter.
They both are.
I fall to one knee with a smile. “Yes?”
Hesitation crosses his expression before fading. “Why were you…”
“What’s going on, buddy? We don’t want you to be late for—”
“Why were you and Mommy fighting last night?”
Shit.
I pull him into a tight embrace. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. A pang hits my heart. Deep down, I know these little white lies will do more harm than good. Valencia and I aim to be as honest as we can around them; however, there’s things they’re too young to understand.
“I’m sorry if it scared you, Oscar. There were some issues Mommy and I needed to resolve and we couldn’t come to an agreement.”
“But you told me to never yell at Slonne. Why did you yell at Mommy then?”
“I made a mistake. A big one.” My stubbled jaw grazes his knitted sweater when I kiss his shoulder. I feel so bad. There’s a weight in my chest that won’t subside. “I let my anger come out instead of talking to Mommy properly. I’m going to apologize and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
I stand and take him with me.
He sinks into my right hip and pats down my black tie. “You promise?”
“I promise, amore. I’m really sorry I let you down.”
“It’s okay. I guess everybody makes mistakes sometimes. Even grown-ups like you.”
Behind my forced smile, all the strings mastered by the puppeteers who abducted Addilyn snap.
Managing a team and managing my own children often blend into each other. All the grit, compromises, and good judgment is there. With my children, however, I have to be careful with the habits they pick up. Last night wasn’t my proudest moment, and I take note of the promise I made to Oscar. Mostly because it’s the same one I conjured in my mind all night, lending me yet another restless night.
“You’re right.” I start. “We all fall off track sometimes. The important thing is to come back up even stronger than before. I promise to be better at navigating my emotion with Mom.”
The warning bell buzzes across the schoolyard.
“Okay. Bye, Daddy!”
“I love you, buddy.”
“Love you too!” Oscar runs off to class.
Surrounding me, parents scramble to get back inside their cars to begin their days. It’s the second day of first grade for the twins and tomorrow marks the beginning of Labor Day weekend. For almost seven years straight we’ve always embarked on some type of road trip to celebrate the three-day weekend as a family…that won’t be happening this year.
I slip inside my black Porsche Cayenne SUV and dial my younger half-brother’s number.
Marcus’ line goes straight to voicemail.
Typical.
Whenever his phone is off in the morning, it means one of two things: he has some farfetched excuse and isn’t coming into the office, or he simply hasn’t yet thought of the farfetched excuse and subsequently never turns up to the office. Either way, he’s degrading my business and wasting clients’ hard-earned money.
You could say that my half-brother and I have never gotten along. But with my children, he always makes an effort to be part of their lives and he treats them well. I respect that, and at the end of the day, he’s part blood. Those two reasons wouldn’t stop me from firing him, but I can’t because…well, there is something else…and so I’ve learned to deal with it.
Amanda, my assistant, used to follow up with Marcus for me during the day, but it’s become apparent that it’s a waste of energy to chase a man who can’t dedicate his time to a career he supposedly wants. And so the nagging from me stopped, partly due to Amanda taking personal leave. It was a family matter. She opted for two weeks, but I saw the pain in her eyes.
She needed more time.
Amanda has been part of the team since the beginning and has always been a loyal employee. She told me it was her mother and that she was the only one who could take care of her. Without any hesitation I signed her leave for six weeks that very afternoon, not caring that it went against my own policy. I would’ve given anything to spend more time with my mom. These weeks for her will be tough, and so I assured her that her position at Notti Designs wouldn’t go anywhere.
With this, I can’t add Marcus Giannotti’s bull to my overflowing agenda today. The one that’s already filled with site visits, design renderings, a midday meeting with Tate, and in the afternoon I need to welcome the intern due to take over Amanda’s place while she’s away.
My turbulent promise to Oscar rings in my ears the entire drive to my office.
Valencia is also on my agenda.
The words I wish to say to her scatter free in my mind. I need to make this right with her. I need to apologize for everything…but how without causing even more turmoil?
You’ll figure it out, Giannotti.
Figure it out.
I’m so perplexed, I almost miss the turnoff.
Almost.
It could have all gone differently.
Addilyn’s abduction shifted my e
ntire outlook on life as I knew it. That horrid night forced my family to slip through my fingers. My fucking family. I had lost my grasp on the ones I needed to protect the most.
I wasn’t there when it happened. I had just touched down in London for a work trip to meet with a developer and estate agent with plans on expanding my company to England, when I received Valencia’s distressed call. Addilyn was gone in an instant. Marcus, Helena, and my in-laws had dinner at our single-story house with Valencia. The time came to put the twins to sleep and Addilyn down for a rest. They were all together in the living room after coffee and had innocently mistook Addilyn’s soft cries as normal.
Now, we know they weren’t.
Just as they stepped out of the house for a brief moment to walk Helena to her car and bid her goodbye, our CCTV showed a male dressed in all black with gloves and a covered face carefully breaking and entering through Addilyn’s window. As SPD outlined, the operation was calculated because, as Marcus, Valencia, and her parents reentered moments later, the figure rushed to the front of the house, over the side gate, and slipped inside an awaiting unlicensed getaway car with my daughter. The car was seen speeding off, but then disappeared from the purview of surrounding house cameras in the area—a complete Twilight Zone moment, and still to this day the car hasn’t been spotted ever since.
SPD worked with determination, but their results ended in no arrests, no leads, no possible suspect, no clues, or even any indication that Addilyn Giannotti was still breathing. With the case now classified as cold, faith was lost on me.
Addilyn was gone.
We didn’t even get to kiss our baby goodbye.
I had felt helpless. I was almost five thousand miles away when my family needed me the most. It’s my gravest nightmare and not being there is my biggest regret. It could have changed everything. Because as soon as Valencia broke the vile news, I told her promises I never kept.
I vowed to her everything inside my aching heart during that call…
We will get our daughter back.
Whatever it takes.
I promise you, darling.
…but days later, I wasn’t so sure.
I feared that soon those words would be the very ones to destroy us. That they would be our undoing. And as much I didn’t want to be, I was right. Nothing has been the same since. So, for my own sanity, I have to accept that Addilyn is in a better place. A place where my mother resides. Up above. Watching over. Protecting us from the looming heavenly flames.
After all, for every single vow spoken, there’s a price to be paid. And deep down I have a feeling that ours will endure the ultimate sacrifice—life.
“A wedding band won’t reappear on that finger, no matter how hard you look.”
I don’t deserve a ring. Not after everything she and I have been through.
I’m not in the mood for Marcus’ sarcastic remarks full stop, but especially not on a Friday afternoon. He finally arrived not too long ago after claiming he had a personal emergency. By ‘personal emergency’ he means curing his hangover. Go figure. I’m almost glad he did come in late and missed the meeting with our joint client, Tate, because this is NOT the way to represent Notti Designs.
Oh yeah, that’s right. Let’s shift the focus on that.
I flick my gaze from my left hand to his deepening smirk. “Couldn’t you have at least postponed the bar hopping until this long weekend? Nothing big, just you know save my company’s reputation from collapsing due to your unacceptable responses to clients, the unpredictability of your house parties and spontaneous trips to Hawaii during a deadline…as I said, nothing big.”
“You still can’t say her name, can you?” He leans against the sandstone desk in the boardroom, a brow arched in challenge. “You’re still in love with Valencia, aren’t you?”
“Marcus…” I warn.
“What?”
“Let’s circle back to your explanation for the house party I suspect you hosted while I was up last night finalizing the meeting for today.”
He scoffs at my statement. “You knew from day one that I handle business differently.”
“And how is that? Care to enlighten me?”
Oh, how I’m looking forward to his answer the second his eyes roll. His gray button down is fine, but his ripped jeans violate all aspects of the company dress code. It also doesn’t escape my notice that he’s wearing a prohibited Seahawks snapback on backward, taming his short dark curls.
“Well, I deliver differently on deals…real different…”
“Go on.”
Marcus shrugs, unchanged as he lets it all loose. “Well, while you gift clients Dom Pérignon for their housewarming after a project is complete…I congratulate them by drinking the hell out of it myself.”
My heart sinks.
Someone. Tell. Me. I. Did. Not. Hear. That. Right.
Cocking my head to the side, I lean forward in my seat with narrowed eyes. “You do what?”
There is no way in hell that he would do this to me. Well, this is Marcus after all…
The idiot bursts out into rumbling laughter. “Oh my god! You should see your face right now!”
“You should feel my heart! Please tell me this is some sick joke.”
Wiping his eyes, he comes to and nods. “Don’t worry. I’m only messing with you, man.”
“I can only hope so.” Relief doesn’t begin to explain it but I’m still staring him down, fuming he would play his card like that. “But don’t joke around like that if you want to continue working here, Capisci?”
That dampens his sarcasm and rapidly alights a tense glare of his own. Like a raging bolt in the middle of an unpredictable storm, flashes of our tattered past fester as Marcus’ face darkens. The monstrous issues we usually reserve for outside office hours come alive. “The hell you will, Giulio.”
“You think I won’t?”
“You should think twice before pulling a stunt like that.”
“I should think twice. Really now?” I challenge as Marcus rises from his seat adjacent to mine and rounds the circular table until he’s right behind me. The smooth soles of my derby shoes pivot against the sleek concrete floors as I swivel my chair towards him.
My half-brother is smirking, arms crossed over his chest as if he owns the joint. “Oh, are you forgetting about something, brother? You’re smarter than that. We both know how it will go when it comes out that businessman Giulio Giannotti is—”
“That’s enough.” My jaw ticks as I stand, towering over both him and his goddamn ego.
“Oh, but I don’t think it is.” He chuckles coldly and for a flash of a second, I see my father standing before me because their grayish-brown eyes are identical. “If you fire me, you also fire your damn right to freedom. Remember? You can’t fire me or go against my wishes here. You owe me big time. So don’t you for one second think you’ve got the upper hand.”
“That doesn’t mean you mess with my company!”
“Why, yes it does. I thought you were a man who handles it all, are you not?’
“I am,” I hiss, feeling my shoulders tensing up. “I can handle anything you give me.”
“Good. Then handle my day to day and what Mr. Bryce McCarson is currently doing…”
Marcus knows he’ll never win this battle between us, yet he always attempts to raise my blood pressure with his calculating advances. Every fucking time he takes the left field this is what he resorts to: blackmail, and lucky for him, it’s enough to have me shut my mouth and keep him at the company.
My yellow gold Oyster Perpetual Rolex reads 2:45 P.M. but I need to confirm with the clock hanging in the hall outside the glass-walled boardroom before I fire somebody else instead. Bryce McCarson and the new intern, Miss Aguilar, are fifteen minutes late and I have yet to receive one phone call explaining why.
A classic McCarson move.
“McCarson is late because he’s praying to God. I can learn to handle your ass, but not his. He’s not family and has nothi
ng in the slightest to do with our…” I clear my throat, shaking my head in disgust. “…agreement. You best believe today’s his last day if he’s a no show.”
“While he has nothing to do with the agreement, he’s still my mate. You can’t fire him.”
I almost laugh. “The hell I can’t. He’s been in for what? Three out of the forty hours this week?”
“Don’t care. You know the consequences…you owe me. And forget about what Bryce is doing right now…”
Right now?
Why does he keep on saying that?
Both Bryce and Miss Aguilar aren’t here…no…they couldn’t be…
“No…” I shake my head repeatedly with an unconvinced laugh. “He wouldn’t go there.”
“Wouldn’t he…?”
Fuck.
He. So. Would.
I take off rushing to the elevator and stab the eleventh floor button. Prove me wrong, McCarson. Prove me the fuck wrong. The second I’m in the interior design level, I almost crash into a man carrying a wooden side-table and quickly apologize before sprinting to his office.
This Brit is going to be the death of me. I have no words for this behavior. None. If my instincts are right, this will be the third time in the last two weeks he’s tested my patience in this exact manner.
Every move McCarson makes affects my business. My reputation is in the hands of the employees I hire. They’re highly educated, dedicated performers, and ace every single client brief… All except for one, Bryce McCarson.
I knock on his frosted glass door. “Are you decent?”
A woman’s giggle comes first, prior to Bryce’s unintelligible murmur.
For fuck sake.
Bryce has made me see red from the first day he strolled into my company, six hours late. Yeah, I wish I was lying. I never expected to meet somebody who appeared at 4 P.M. on their first day on the job. His disregard breaches all my expectations. Every single fucking one.
Damn Marcus and our damn agreement.
I don’t have time for McCarson’s excuses and step in.
In a rather compromising position, Miss Aguilar is spread out on his desk with only a bra in sight. McCarson is standing behind his desk, his arms laced around her waist and he’s laughing at something she said. Bryce, who’s usual attire is a charcoal Harley Davidson t-shirt or a sweater and distressed jeans, is from East London. He supports a rich, Cockney accent and has an innate talent of doing the opposite of what anybody says.
Merciful Vows: A Bittersweet Second Chance Romantic Suspense (The Giannotti World Book 1) Page 4
