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“Are you questioning me?”
Gio’s eyes were cold…so cold.
“You think I should have spared him?”
Ana’s hands spread out helplessly. “I-I don’t know. If Jon was responsible, he definitely should have paid.” The image of Gabriella weeping in her wheelchair lingered with her, filling her with such grief that she couldn’t imagine how Gio felt.
Who was she to judge the blood on his hands?
Hers were just as stained.
“But everyone is talking about his death, wondering–” She bit back the words. “They just want to feel safe and hopeful, which is hard with the past anchoring them down. Maybe now that the culprits are dead, you can…issue a message about unity and forgiveness? Look to the future.” Ana smiled encouragingly, even as her hands trembled.
But Gio eyed her balefully.
It was clear a response was bubbling up inside him, but he said nothing. He simply stared at her for several long seconds before huffing loudly. “The deed is done, and I won’t hide it. It’ll make people think I’m soft and encourage other traitors who are lying in wait.”
“What other traitors?” she asked, perplexed. “You’ve caught them all, made sure they were punished.”
“Not all.”
“What?”
Gio’s jaw tensed, agitated. “I didn’t catch one.”
Because the main culprit, the bodyguard, had already killed himself in the attack.
Ana blinked slowly in realization, and Gio gave her an indecipherable look.
“Gio…” she whispered plaintively, reaching out to wrap a delicate hand around his arm. “I…can’t imagine how frustrating it is not to be able to confront him.” The crazed suicide-bomber bodyguard who’d ruined his family. “But he's gone. And if you keep looking for traitors, you’ll find them on every corner. I’m afraid the Family will become tired of it and turn their backs on you.”
As if in mockery of her words, he turned sharply away.
She sighed, dejected. “This isn’t the Don I thought you would be…”
Her mumbled words hung heavily between them, suspended in the air, until he sliced through them with an incinerating look. “And I thought I was getting a good mafia wife–submissive and silent.”
Ana rocked back on her heels as if she’d been slapped. The words cut her down to her core.
Gio didn’t see her reaction, facing the window with his arms taut and crossed, while she stood dazed for a long time. Waiting for him to say something, to take it back.
But he didn’t.
Her heavy feet drifted toward the door as numbness spread through her. For so long, she had remained quiet and poised, trained just as her aunt had raised her to be. But her husband had been so kind and receptive to her that she’d slipped up. She had weakened her armor and let him through.
Hurt and embarrassment coursed through her.
A thousand curses spilled inside her head.
But, as she glanced back at his stiff frame shrouded in the shadows, what she felt most was sadness...at just how lonely he looked.
Emotions poured through Ana at the memory of that day last week. Sadness filled every part of her, with nowhere to go.
She foolishly thought he was growing to accept her. Not just as a Mancini, not just as his dutiful, arranged wife. But just her, as she was. Why? Because he enjoyed sleeping with her and tolerated her presence in his house?
How foolish.
Her aunt watched her like a hawk, tutting under her breath. “That man is ruthless, Ana. He just wants his vengeance, loyalties be damned. Men who’ve been faithful to the Family for years are being questioned like criminals.” Auntie shook her head, appalled. “You know, he even interrogated all our staff? What will people think?”
