GIOVANNI'S POV
The bass throbbed through my chest, each beat a dull echo of the dread building inside me. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration, my last hurrah before I traded my freedom for a strategic alliance. My bachelor party. Surrounded by the gaudy excess of the VIP section, overlooking the sweating masses on the dance floor, I felt anything but celebratory. Sergei, ever the jovial idiot, clapped me on the shoulder. "Last night of freedom, Giovanni! After tomorrow, you're officially a Conti man. You'll be eating pasta and speaking Italian before you know it!" Alexei, leaning back on the plush velvet couch, smirked. "No more late nights with anonymous blondes, eh, Gio? You'll be singing a different tune when Julianna has you chained to the bed." My father, Viktor, his face flushed with drink and anticipation, raised his glass. "I'm proud of you, son. Finally, you've listened to reason. A marriage to the Conti family... it's the best thing for us." I cut him off, the words sharp and laced with a simmering anger. "Don't flatter yourself, Father. I didn't do this for you. I did it for the partnership. Conti's distribution network is the key to expanding our influence. This is purely business." Alexei raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Pure business? You and Julianna have been seeing each other for three months. No feelings developed? Not even a little?" Sergei chimed in, "Yeah, Gio. You've been spending a lot of time with the woman. You can't tell me you haven't fallen at least a little bit under her spell." I shrugged, taking a long swallow of my vodka. "A mafia boss can't afford to fall in love. Love is a weakness, a vulnerability. I enjoy Julianna's company, she's intelligent and ambitious. But feelings? No. There are none." "So," Alexei drawled, a playful glint in his eyes, "how many times have you two been...acquainted in bed, then?" I didn't hesitate. "Every weekday for the past three months. Often until the early hours." Sergei whistled, shaking his head in mock admiration. "You're a machine, Giovanni! A goddamn machine!" Alexei's smirk widened. "Weekdays only, though? Where does Julianna disappear to on weekends? Visiting family? Clandestine rendezvous?" I frowned. I hadn't actually considered it. Julianna was always available during the week, always eager to meet. But weekends… nothing. "She goes home to her family," I said, the explanation feeling flimsy even to my own ears. The night continued, fueled by expensive alcohol and the pounding rhythm of the music. My gaze drifted to Dmitri, my right-hand man, who stood quietly by the wall, a dark shadow in the vibrant scene. He hadn't said a word since we arrived. "Dmitri," I said, my voice cutting through the noise, "why so silent? Aren't you going to join the fun?" He inclined his head respectfully. "It is not my place, Giovanni. I am here to ensure your safety." "Don't be ridiculous. You're more than just my right-hand. You're family." Viktor, ever the dramatic one, clapped Dmitri on the back. "He's right! I practically see you as my third son, Dmitri. Maybe I should marry you off to Anastasia. Then you would "officially" be family!" My blood ran cold. "Stay away from Anastasia, Father. She doesn't need your 'guidance' in her life. Don't you dare control her life like you tried on mine." Fucking no! I wouldn't let my younger sister tangle into this intricate mess of loveless marriage. "I'm her father, Giovanni! I have a right to decide what's best for her." "And I'll be the Pakhan after tomorrow," I reminded him, the words dripping with resentment. "So, eventually, I'll overrule you." Viktor just scoffed, shaking his head. "You'll always be my son, Giovanni. Don't forget that." The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Sensing the shift, Alexei and Sergei clapped their hands, signaling to someone outside. The door swung open, and a gaggle of women, dressed in barely-there outfits, flooded the room, their perfume suffocating. They draped themselves over us, their hands reaching. Dmitri stepped back, his face impassive. "I will take some air," he said, and walked away, disappearing into the throng of people outside the VIP area. "Conservative bastard," Alexei muttered, watching him go. "Can't even handle a little harmless fun." The dancers did their work, gyrating against us, offering lap dances with practiced ease. I growled when two of them approached my father, but Viktor just laughed, pulling them closer. "Let the old man have his fun, Giovanni," he said, his eyes gleaming. "You need to move on, forget your mother's death and leave me be." The words stung, as they always did. My mother had died eight years ago, after discovering my father's infidelity. She, a proud Russo heiress, couldn't bear the humiliation. Viktor, however, continued his philandering, flaunting his affairs with shameless abandon. The women on either side of me began unbuttoning my shirt, their fingers teasing my chest. I let them, the alcohol numbing my senses. As one reached for my belt buckle, I stopped her. I stood up abruptly, pushing them away, the desire gone. The sound of moaning coming from the room where my father had disappeared with two of the dancers had killed any semblance of arousal. I couldn't stand it anymore. I walked out of my own bachelor party, the bass vibrating in my ears. My mood had soured the moment my father, the eternal playboy, had dragged those women into that room. Eight years. Eight years since his actions had indirectly led to my mother's death. He's already in his early fifties. And still, he hadn't changed. The club air was stale and thick with smoke. I needed to get out. I pushed past the clubgoers, feeling their resentment at being disrupted, and made my way to the exit. Where was Dmitri? I needed him to do something. As I stepped out into the cool night air, I saw Dmitri leaning against my armored SUV, a cigarette burning between his fingers. "Giovanni," he said, straightening up. "Everything alright?" "No," I said, the word raw with anger and frustration. "Nothing is alright." He didn't press, just waited, his silence offering a strange comfort. "I need to know something, Dmitri," I said, my voice low. "I need you to find out what Julianna does on weekends. Everything. Every detail. I want to know where she goes, who she sees… everything." Dmitri nodded, his eyes unwavering. "Consider it done, Giovanni." I knew I could trust him. He was the only one I could trust. As I climbed into the SUV, a cold dread settled over me. The wedding was tomorrow. And something, deep down, told me that I was walking into a trap. My carefully constructed world was about to shatter, and I had no idea what awaited me on the other side. The alliance with the Conti's, which I wanted so badly, could just be a road to my own destruction.TRISTAN'S POVThe rhythmic thwack of my bullets finding their mark was a comforting melody. Three shots, each a perfect bullseye, nested deep within the dummy’s paper heart and brain. The faint smell of gunpowder hung in the air of the private shooting range, a scent I’d grown to associate with a strange kind of peace."Not bad," Vlad’s voice rumbled from beside me, a low, appreciative murmur that always managed to send a shiver down my spine, whether from annoyance or something else, I was never quite sure.I lowered the pistol, spinning it once on my finger before placing it back on the rack. I raised an eyebrow at him, a half smile twitching at my lips. "That's it? That's the highest compliment you can give? After I skillfully disemboweled that poor unsuspecting paper man?"Vlad chuckled, a deep sound that vibrated through the concrete walls. "Don't get it all in your head, Tristan. It would be your weakness if you let arrogance control you." His tone was lecturing, but his eyes he
GIOVANNI'S POVThe expensive silk of my all-black suit felt like a second skin, a testament to the power I was about to claim. In the mirror, my reflection stared back, a man on the precipice of everything he had ever strived for. The color was a deliberate choice for my wedding to Juliana, not just a preference, but a statement. Black symbolized control, an unspoken assertion of my dominance in this world, in this family, in this new union. My jaw was set. My gaze, sharp and unwavering. This day was a culmination, a victory.A rap on the door, then it swung open without waiting for my permission. Anastasia, my sister, stood framed in the doorway, her eyes like chips of ice. She wore a dress the color of twilight, a stark contrast to the celebratory white of the occasion, and her presence dimmed the already filtered light in the room."Brother, go down when you're ready," she said, her voice devoid of warmth, cutting through the silence like a sharpened blade. "Let's get
TRISTAN'S POVThe sound was rhythmic, deafening, and satisfying.Bang... bang... bang...I felt the recoil thrum through my forearm, steadying my aim for the next shot. Targets after targets flew backward, splintered into wood and metal dust when the high velocity rounds ripped through them. Cans flew everywhere, metallic bodies twisting in the air before clattering onto the concrete floor. This physical sharpness was the only thing that felt real to me anymore.I removed the heavy ear defenders, letting the sudden, dull quiet settle around me. I pulled the goggles off my face, blinking against the harsh fluorescent light of the indoor range. I was done for today’s session.Suddenly, I heard a few dramatic, short claps echoing across the empty space. I turned, wiping the sweat from my eyes with the back of my hand, and saw Vlad walking towards me, his expensive leather shoes silent on the smooth concrete.“Wow, just wow,” Vlad said, his voice laced with genuine admiration. He stopped
GIOVANNI'S POVThe scream was trapped in my throat, useless against the vast, indifferent expanse of the Atlantic. I did not scream. I yelled. I channeled every ounce of terror and denial into a furious, guttural sound aimed straight at the one man who insisted on injecting logic into my nightmare.“He is not dead, Dmitri! How dare you assume that?” I roared at my right hand, slamming my fist onto the metal table in the viewing deck. The gigantic cruise ship felt small, rocking violently, mocking my inability to control the situation.Dmitri stood his ground, his face a mask of grim loyalty. “Boss, I am stating facts. Logical possibilities,” he said, his voice measured but heavy. He was trying to calm me, and that infuriated me further.“No! He isn’t dead yet! Not until I see his corpse, I won’t believe it,” I yelled. The words were a shield against the crushing certainty that Tristan was gone. I wouldn't accept it until I had physical, undeniable proof.Dmitri s
TRISTAN'S POVMy body felt impossibly heavy, I tried to move my limbs, to twitch a finger, to even shift my weight, but it was useless. My muscles refused to obey, bound by an invisible force or perhaps a profound exhaustion I could not comprehend.I attempted to pry open my eyelids, to pierce through the encroaching darkness, but they were stubbornly glued shut, feeling as though small stones had been placed upon them. Despite this profound paralysis, my other senses seemed to amplify. My hearing sharpened, pulling in the muffled sounds of a distant, murmuring discussion."Did you stabilize him already?" a manly voice cut through the haze.The words were a low rumble, yet they vibrated through me. There was something familiar about that voice, a resonant quality that tugged at some distant corner of my mind, a place I could not quite reach.A cold wave of panic washed over me, though I remained physically inert. Why was I here? What happened? My mind was a blank slate, devoid of any
GIOVANNI'S POVThe sharp, stinging impact across my left cheek was less painful than it was humiliating. It wasn't the force that mattered; it was the sheer temerity, the violation of expectation.Anastasia, my quiet, delicate younger sister, had just slapped me... and the sound of the blow seemed to absorb all other noise in the sprawling, overly opulent hall.Juliana, who only moments earlier had been arguing fiercely with me about the consequences of my treatment of Tristan, seemed to have swallowed her own caustic tongue. She was frozen, eyes wide, looking not at me, but at Anastasia as if seeing a ghost.My blood ran cold for a second before the ferocious heat of indignation took over. I raised a trembling hand to my cheek. My skin was already throbbing, radiating heat."You... you slapped me? Anastasia what the heck?" I demanded, the words grating out through gritted teeth.I could still taste the metallic tang of shock. I analyzed her face, searching for the sister I knew, the