by Shanna Bell
Kristoff was known for the colorful ways he disposed of bodies. Not that the bodies in question were ever found. He was too smart for that. But Gio had heard the rumors.
“Your generosity knows no bounds.”
“I know. I’ve ordered Sergei to put that on my tombstone.”
“A few more good deeds like this and before you know, you’ll go completely legit,” Gio said, as he tried to hold in his smile.
Kristoff scoffed. “What, and turn my back on the Dark Side? I’ll leave that to the Dettas.”
Since he lingered, something Kristoff wasn’t prone to do, Gio knew the man had another thing on his mind. “You want something.”
“I want your woman to take Katya on one of her girls’ nights. You know the one I mean. Where they wear flimsy dresses, drink too much alcohol, and talk about flower power and shit.”
“Flower power and shit?”
“She’s turning twenty-one in a month. We’ve had an argument about how she’s never even had a drink. Then she quoted some shit about women empowerment and called me dominant and controlling. I’ve killed men for saying less.”
“You are dominant and controlling,” Gio pointed out.
Kristoff raised a brow, as if saying, “Pot, meet kettle.”
Gio raised a glass at that. “I’ll take care of it.” Taking Kristoff’s protégé on a night in town could turn lethal if anyone gave the girl any shit. He’d have to up their security detail.
They discussed a few more details in their joint venture at Pacific Heights until they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Thea’s head peeked through the door opening.
“She’s awake, Gio.”
Kristoff apparently took that as his cue to leave, because he got to his feet. “See you around, bratan.”
After Kristoff had left, Gio downed the rest of his drink before he walked to his bedroom.
Jazzy sat in her pajamas at the edge of the bed, her back facing the door. She refused to acknowledge his presence when he walked in.
He pondered, for a moment, how to handle this. Yesterday had been the worst day in his adult life, and the only person who he had kept his sanity for refused to look at him. It was true what they said. Sometimes it took almost losing someone to realize how much you’d miss them if they were gone.
After her phone call last night, he got confronted by his biggest fear: that she’d met someone else. Someone who didn’t belong in the gray world he lived in, always balancing on the sharp edge of a sword, between right and wrong. Some cheery asshole with a death wish who believed he could get away with stealing his wife. It was almost a relief when he discovered that she intended to leave him over a misunderstanding. Of course, that relief didn’t last long. By the time he had taken care of making sure Lisa could never enter his building again, and went in search of his wife, Bianchi had gotten his hands on her. It had been a mistake to pull the rug from underneath Bianchi, leaving him all exposed and desperate, and not taking him out immediately. It had almost cost him his wife.
Finally, Jazzy turned to him.
“Are you going to keep me a prisoner again?”
“No. You can choose to stay or leave after we talk.”
“I don’t have anything to say. Well, except thank you for coming for me. Though, I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, I am still carrying your last name.” She sighed, sounding tired. “But really, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still leaving. We had a deal, and you broke it.”
“I had a deal with my brothers too, but I broke it. For you.”
“I don’t understand what—”
You will. “Aren’t you going to ask me?”
She looked confused. “Ask you what?”
“If I love you back.”
Once again, a storm brewed in her hazel eyes. “Don’t have to. Your naked intermezzo with Lisa was my answer.”
Stubborn until the end, but at least she hadn’t taken her words back. So, she wanted proof that he loved her? As if words spoken in any language could describe a fraction of what he felt for her.
“Look,” she continued, “we agreed this marriage would only last two years and then we would part our ways. Obviously, since—”
“No.”
“What?”
“We did not agree on such a thing. This marriage isn’t fucking temporary.” It might have started out like that, but he wasn’t letting her go. Ever.
“But I assumed you—”
“You know what they say about assumptions,” he growled. “There is no out of this marriage, and it’s time you get that through your stubborn skull.”
After his little speech, he all but dragged her from the bed, took her through the corridor, and into his work room. He then closed the door behind them and let her go. In a quick pace, he got behind his desk, opening a drawer with a lock.
Jazzy just stood there, her hands clutching her arms.
She jumped up when he threw a big manila envelope on the desk, then walked back to her.
“Read it.”
“What’s that?”
“That, my dear wife, is the last man responsible for the death of my parents. The last asshole on our death list.”
She stared at the envelope, like it was a snake that would bite her.
“I don’t think… I don’t see what this has to do with me.”
Gio still simmered with rage when he thought back on his conversation with Antonio Rossi.
“You were the man that led my father into Bianchi’s trap.”
The report from the PI had been damning. The truth had been hidden deep, but in the end, all trails led back to Antonio Rossi. The only thing they didn’t understand was the why.
Antonio hadn’t denied it. The man had sat in a garden chair, overlooking his estate, and took a deep sigh as he started confessing.
“Oscar had your father killed because of greed and lust.”
The greed part Gio understood. Oscar had taken over his father’s assets after the war that took the Scolinis out, but the lust part was new. “Lust?”
“Brianna.”
One word was all it took for Gio to connect the dots. “He wanted my mother?”
Antonio nodded. “Your mother was a beautiful woman. It was practically impossible to not be enamored by her. She was kind, nurturing, and completely devoted to your father. I knew they would be a perfect match.”
“Why?” It was the only question that was left.
“Bianchi had dirt on Marco. A film with him and a fifteen-year old girl. A girl with influential parents. He threatened to expose it, unless I helped him get your father to that warehouse. I presumed Oscar just wanted to take over your father’s place, but he wanted much more. We’ll never know what exactly happened that night, when he went to your mother after having killed your father. I assume he propositioned her, and Brianna rejected or attacked him. Ending with him killing her.”
“That’s why you kept giving him loans from Rossi Enterprises, even though he was a liability.”
Antonio’s lips thinned. “That, and because he clearly kept an eye on Marco, expecting that my son would fuck up again. Bianchi found out about what happened that night with Jazzy and Mary. I couldn’t let my girls get exposed like that. A stain like that, on one’s family, takes generations to clean, so I did what I had to do to protect my family.”
Gio was close to snapping Antonio’s neck. The only thing stopping him was Jazzy. Because, however much he hated the old man, he loved his wife more. He no longer believed it was a coincidence that the old bastard had propositioned him first to marry one of his granddaughters.
“That was quite a risk you took. Assuming I would fall in love with Jazzy.” And by that, protecting his granddaughters, even when he would be out of the picture.
“What man wouldn’t fall in love with her?”
Antonio Rossi was the most manipulative son of a bitch. By giving him Jazzy, the fucker had taken the joy out of exacting his revenge.
Except, it w
asn’t just his revenge. He’d had to ask his brothers, one by one, to agree to not put Rossi down. The talk had gone over easier than he’d expected. Especially the one with Vince, his most volatile and impulsive brother.
“I like Jazzy,” Vince had said. “Wife trumps bastard. Also, he’s dying anyway. I love the idea of him rotting from the inside every day. Hurting and being in agony like a motherfucker.” Vince was also the most vicious.
“The only reason we’re letting you live is Jazzy.”
The old man had Stage Two liver cancer. Which meant a slow, and painful, death. No one deserved it more.
Speaking of deserving, his wife deserved the truth. Trailing back into the present, he took the envelope and pulled a black and white picture from it. “Let me show you why it involves you, bella.”
***
JAZZY
When he turned the photo and Jazzy stared into the face of her beloved nonno, her heart broke into a million tiny pieces.
“No…” She looked up into Gio’s eyes that were blazing fire.
“Now, tell me, bella. Do you think, knowing me for who I am, that I would have let Antonio live, for any other reason than for you?”
“What are you trying to tell me?”
He dropped the picture and pulled her against him. “You’re going to make me say the words, aren’t you?”
A trembling started from inside her. She didn’t dare hope. Not while she had the picture of her grandfather with a red cross on it still fresh in her mind.
“I do like words,” she mumbled.
“I’m telling you that the only reason Antonio Rossi is still alive, is because I fucking love you. Antonio lured my father into a trap, so Oscar Bianchi could kill him for reasons I will tell you later. Yet, I decided to find a way in my black heart to forgive—never forget, but forgive—him, for what he’s done, because hurting him means hurting you.”
She tried to put together what he meant to say. Which was no easy feat with her emotions—fear, anger, and hurt—jumping up and down tonight.
“You love me.” For some reason, she needed to voice that thought.
“I do.” He pulled away from her. “I didn’t choose you because you are beautiful, smart, and spirited; all of which you are. I picked you because every man needs a strong woman, and you are a queen. My queen. Now, use that smart brain of yours. Do you think, knowing all of that, that I would cheat on you?”
When put like that…
It was as if a huge weight was lifted off her chest and she could breathe again.
“Now, say the words,” he demanded.
She looked into his smoldering baby blues. He needed to hear the words just as much as she did. “I love you.” Then she cleared her throat. “Now, let’s talk about why there was a naked woman in your office that wasn’t me.”
“I didn’t touch her, other than to pull her up and show her the door.” He took her in his arms and trailed back to their bedroom, where he dropped her onto the bed.
Gio crawled over her body like a hungry predator. He grabbed her wrists and slammed them above her head.
Oh yeah, she loved being handled like this.
“The only naked woman I’m interested in is you.”
She could see the truth in his beautiful eyes. In the way he looked at her, that he cherished her, that she was his. She couldn’t see it before because of her insecurities clouding her judgment. How silly she had been to horde her love, the most exhilarating emotion in existence, instead of expressing it to him. Never again, she swore, giving in to his scorching kiss. Every day, she would tell this man how special he was to her. For love wasn’t something to keep to yourself; it was meant to be shared.
EPILOGUE
Two months later
Another Wednesday afternoon, and Gio was nowhere to be found. That was three weeks in a row now. Jazzy hadn’t paid any attention to it the first few times she had visited him during her lunch break, but now it was becoming a pattern. Now, of course, this could be something totally innocent, like him working at the soup kitchen or feeding cats at the animal shelter during those times, but she highly doubted that.
She decided to wait for him in his office. Gale offered her a cup of coffee. Jazzy liked the older woman. She wasn’t all dolled up like the rest of the women on the executive floor.
“Mr. Detta will be here at exactly two o’clock,” Gale said. Her tone held a hint of irritation mixed with amusement. “Exactly on time or too late, depending on how you see it.”
“I’m sensing you’re trying to tell me something, Gale.”
Gale smiled. “Oh, I am. If you want to find out why your husband makes himself scarce every Wednesday afternoon, then please pick up the call when he enters his office.”
Intriguing.
At exactly two o’clock, Gio showed his face. She waited for him, sitting on his desk, legs spread, inviting him over to stand between them.
When he did, and his hand slid underneath her dress, the phone rang. Jazzy grabbed it before he got the chance. Gio tried to take it from her, but she held the phone out of his reach.
There was a woman on the other end of the line, who sounded aggravated.
“Oh, I see. So you have to reschedule his appointment. Again.” She gave Gio a pointed look. “My husband is a very busy man, and I’m sure he forgot about it.” She listened to the voice on the other end. “Really? So, there’s an open spot for this afternoon. Thank you. We’ll be there.” Jazzy hung up and started giggling. “You ran away from the dentist?”
Gio’s lips thinned. “I don’t like people poking in my mouth with sharp objects. The damn woman is like a mule. She keeps rescheduling the damn appointment every Wednesday afternoon, until I go.”
That was it; she was gone. She turned into a puddle of tears and howling laughter.
“Tell you what. You go to the dentist this afternoon, and you can take out your frustration on me later tonight… when I wear a costume.”
He started unbuttoning her dress. “What kind of costume?”
It was difficult to keep her thoughts together when he started trailing kisses along her neck. “Sexy dentist.” When he stopped his caressing, she added, “To help cure you of your dentist phobia. I am your loving wife after all, and helping you out during the bad times kind of comes with my job description.”
Finally, the kissing continued, and once again, she was reminded of how far they had come.
On her wedding day, she couldn’t have fathomed that they would be where they were now. Back then, she couldn’t wait for the day to be free of Gio. Now, she couldn’t imagine her life without him.
Was everything perfect? No. Her man still had his “king of the universe” moments. Anything concerning her safety was non-negotiable. But as her nonno always said, the occasional marital spat was the pepper to a marriage, giving it spice. Then there was her sister. Carmen had gone through a radical personality change, as she had ever seen one. It was as if, one day, she woke up and had decided to not show any emotion anymore. It made Jazzy realize how dangerous it was to bottle everything up inside you, instead of dealing with what life threw at you. It was the second reason why she had taken the plunge into therapy. The first one being the promise she had made to herself when she was being held hostage by crazy Oscar and a Russian crime lord. Of course, back then, she didn’t know Kristoff and Gio knew each other from way back, and she ultimately didn’t have anything to worry about.
Another worry was her relationship with her grandfather. It was more strained since she’d learned that he was responsible for Gio’s parents’ deaths. But she couldn’t turn her back on him. He was still the man who had raised her after her parents had passed away, and she still loved him. Every time she went to see him, he seemed to shrink a little more. Gio didn’t try to keep her from going over to the Rossi mansion, and she was grateful for that. She wasn’t sure, if the situation had been reversed, she could have done the same. But if there was one truth she was sure of, it was that Giovanni
Detta loved her and would do anything to see to her happiness.
Anything.
“My grandfather’s housekeeper called,” she informed Gio, looking him in the eye. “It seems that my grandfather has left for Europe this morning, to bury his son.” Silently, she asked him if he had anything to do with it. The faint smile on his lips told her all that she needed to know.
“Happy six-month anniversary, bella.”
Some men bought jewelry for their wives on an anniversary, other’s flowers. Her husband gave the best of gifts, for he had the power to slay demons. He gave her closure and peace of mind. After all, he was a Detta. As he had told her numerous times, he only had one job: to protect, to provide, and—as she had added to the new family slogan—to love.
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