Page 49 of Bloody Savage God
I can’t help but laugh, feeling exhilarated and alive. This is a side to Gianna I doubt many people ever get to see. Despite the pressure she’s under, she’s almost playful, able to compartmentalize.
“I’m ready for whatever you’ve got,” I say, my voice rough with desire, and I wonder if she can read just how easily I’d tear the world apart for her.
Gianna just shakes her head, the smirk still on her face. “We’ll see about that,” she says, before rolling over and off the bed, ready to attack me again. And I’m ready for her, my body humming with anticipation. This might just be the start of something amazing.
Chapter Seventeen
Gianna
“UncleMarioispissed.He threw a fit loud enough to scare several of his men to the point they thought they’d get a bullet in their heads.” Eric looks almost impressed as he reports this to me.
It’s the day after busting the game and I spend almost all day ensuring the house is clean of any recording devices or other surprises. After that unfortunate necessity was taken care of, I messaged Eric to meet me here before the family dinner I have planned for tonight.
I’m sure Uncle Mario hates that I invited everyone to the house the way my father used to. But his ego won’t allow him to be excluded from such a get together, which means he’ll show up anyway. And isn’t it sad that I’m not simply making that up because I’ve grown cynical over his motivations?
“Good, if he’s pissed, that means I rattled him.” I tell Eric, feeling a certain amount of satisfaction at the success of the endeavor, despite the concerns I have over Mikhail’s involvement. Not to mention the concerns I have about where things are going between us. Because that’s a whole other can of worms that I’d like to weld shut if possible.
Eric frowns. “Do you want to tell me how you did that and why the fuck I wasn’t included?” He’s twirling his favorite knife in his hand. The very one my father gifted to him after Eric’s own father passed. I don’t know what my father told him back then, but Eric became a loyal soldier after that, despite being technically too young for it.
If the twirling is any indication, and it usually is, it looks like my cousin has reached the limit of his patience. But he’ll just have to deal. I want his loyalty badly, since he represents the family I care about more than anything, but my trust in people was never great to start with and Uncle Mario’s betrayal has done damage. I cannot risk being back stabbed the way my father was, which means I need to deal with the elephant in the room.
“Because I don’t know what you did the night my father was killed.” I give him a pointed look, which also allows me to keep an eye on the twirling knife in the periphery of my vision. “I want to trust you, Eric. I have all my life, and I trust very few people, but you know I need to be careful after what happened.”
I watch him closely, seeing the spark of hurt in his usually blank eyes. But that’s not all I see. There is also resignation and I fucking hope the latter emotion stems from the guilt he’s feeling over failing to protect my father, rather than being called out on his disloyalty. Whatever it is though, I’m going to be on guard tonight.
It takes a minute before either one of us speaks, and when he does, Eric’s voice is flat. “You doubt my loyalty and yet you send me to do recon for you?”
He’s right. That, in and of itself, was, in a way, a huge show of trust on my part. He could have used the time while I was preoccupied with Mikhail to lobby on my uncle’s behalf. Or worse.
“I did.”
The confirmation soothes some of the upset from Eric’s face, and he looks more like the hardened soldier I’ve grown used to over the years. He certainly isn’t a carefree child anymore.
Neither one of us is.
Still, Eric doesn’t need to know that I’ve had a couple of othersoldatireport back to me as well. Men whose loyalty I can be certain of because I recruited them myself and I confirmed their whereabouts the night my father was killed. Plus, they independently gave me similar reports. My best guess is that Eric suspects as much anyway, or he will once he’s had a chance to let what I’ve told him sink in.
“How do you expect me to prove my loyalty?” Eric asks, and it’s the same question I’ve been asking myself.
“Unfortunately, I think only time will tell.”
Eric’s expression darkens. He isn’t a man who accepts the questioning of his loyalty without it tainting our relationship. If he proves himself to be loyal, I will have to make this up to him, but I hope our friendship will keep him from walking away from me right now.
“Fine.” Eric nods, his expression remaining grim, but he puts the knife in the sheath on his belt. “Let’s get this fuckery over with then.”
Together we head downstairs. It’s early, which is a stark reminder that things around here have changed. No more late entrances. No. I need to be there and seated before my uncle arrives.
In fact, I gave thesoldatian earlier time than my uncle. By half an hour, hoping none of them mentioned the time in his presence.
In the dining room, the table is set and I can hear the faint clanging noises from the kitchen. Mellie will serve one of my favorite dishes tonight. I can already smell the rosemary she always uses to make the porchetta. She has been rotating through my favorites since my father’s death. It’s her way of helping me grieve, I think, though she might just be avoiding having to cook the foods that will remind her of my father. There is rarely a good deed done solely for someone else’s benefit, though as far as Mellie goes, I’m fairly sure she’s primarily concerned about how I am feeling. Thus the promise of yet another good meal tonight.
Eric heads over to the bar and fixes us both glasses. Himself a whiskey, and a glass of red wine for me. I watch as he pours, feeling oddly grateful for his choice. Imported straight from Italy, the red was one of my father’s staples. It would probably surprise Mellie to learn that taking a sip of the full-bodied liquid actually soothes some of the hollow feeling that still lingers whenever my father’s absence is particularly noticeable.
“Ciao,” Romeo greets as he enters the dining room. Mateo follows close behind and repeats the greeting.
I nod at Anton who is waiting behind them in thanks and he walks off again. I had asked my butler to lead everyone who arrives straight to the dining room tonight, the way he used to for my father.
“Hello,” I say, greeting the two men with a smile. Both of them have joined these dinners for several years now, holding the rank of capos. According to Eric, as well as my own intuition, their loyalty to me is solid. “Thank you for your condolence cards.”
