“Call Carmine,” Dario sighed, then turned to Gio. “I take full responsibility for this, Giovanni. Don Capribella gave me one job, and I failed.”
“Shit, I didn’t think fuckface would respond so soon,” Massacre said, kicking the dead man. “I guess he got the message.”
“What message?” Gio seethed.
Massacre and Sal looked at each other, then sighed.
“What message, Massacre?” I asked, wanting to know myself.
“Sal and I sent Bianchi a message last night.”
“And that was,” I encouraged.
“We may have contacted some of my brothers back in the states, and they may have raided his warehouse and burnt it to the ground.”
I gasped.
Gio stiffened around me, then growled, “You two did what?”
“I fixed the problem, okay. The deal is done. Finito. Finished. It evaporated in flames,” Sal added.
Gio said nothing for several minutes, and when he finally did speak, he said, “Dario, call Don Victor. Tell him what happened and to expect retaliation. Also, tell him the timeline has been moved up. I need to return to the States immediately. He is welcome to join us. Salvatore, call Lorenzo and have him lock down the compound. No one in. No one out. Dwayne, you can call Reaper and explain.Tesoro, please get dressed. We need to leave within the hour.”
33
Giovanni
I was quiet on the ride to the airport. It was a long drive. At that time, I said nothing as Layla slept in my arms. I felt ashamed of my actions so much that I couldn’t even look at her. I didn’t deserve her.
I shouldn’t have done what I did. She wasn’t ready for any of it. I was too rough with her, but I was lost when she looked at me with her soft blue eyes. I gave into my primal lust.
Then in the shower this morning, I could have hurt her.
She said nothing.
She allowed me to use her body.
I was no better than the men who raped her.
I couldn’t see past my own indiscretions.
My mind still whirled with how my family received my secret. Salvatore was justified in his response. So was Dwayne. And when I talked to the others, I expected more yelling and condemnation. Instead, I received their understanding and forgiveness.
I didn’t want that.
I wanted them to yell, shout, curse…anything but their forgiveness.
I didn’t deserve it.
When our father died, I promised myself that I wouldn’t be like him. That I would handle the family differently. That I would include them in every decision. Instead, that first day I should have sought their counsel.
Instead, I did exactly what our father always did.
What he wanted.
I was just like him.
Well, now they knew. Instead of leaving me to handle the mess our father created, and I continued, they rallied around me and were helping me to fix it.