Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 51733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
"I can't bear having another death on my conscience, Sarica. I'm sorry."
The last thing Giancarlo saw was Sarica falling to her knees as he forced himself to walk away.
He tried to convince himself that this was the last time he would have anything to do with his old life...only to find himself face to face with his grandmother, whose expression made clear she had heard every word.
"Oh, bambino." Potenziana's voice shook. "Are you going to walk away from us, too? Do you really think we will only want you back if you are capable of protecting us? We love you, Giancarlo. That is why we want you back. And we all m-missed you s-so much."
It was his first time hearing his grandmother's voice crack, and Giancarlo could not have stopped himself from pulling her into his arms no more than he could stop himself from breathing.
"You are one of us, bambino," she whispered against his chest. "Always are, always will be."
Chapter Thirteen
NIGHT HAD FALLEN OVER Kivr, painting the desert kingdom in shades of indigo and silver. From the penthouse windows, the city's lights mimicked the sea of stars above, but the emptiness in his heart made him blind to its splendor.
Potenziana joined her eldest grandson in the balcony, but her gaze was lost in memories of the past. "Just you and I again, bambino. There was a time it was like this before, do you remember?"
Giancarlo nodded, the silver streak in his hair catching the lamplight as he moved. How could he forget? Those were the bloodiest years in both their lives, a time when survival was all that mattered, regardless of the cost to their souls.
“Fear made us do terrible things then,” Potenziana reminisced, a sad smile touching her lips. “And I thought it wouldn’t come to that again, when we all made that promise.” She paused, her words deliberate and heavy. “But here we are again. Your hands may no longer bear the blood of others. But they remain tainted. By Sarica’s tears.”
Giancarlo’s fists clenched at his sides. Sarica had taken the first flight out of Kivr that morning, and he had chosen not to see her off. For both of their sakes.
“She deserves someone better,” he said, his jaw tightening. “And that someone is already in her life.”
“Are you talking about Dauphin Tueur?”
His gaze narrowed. “You know about him as well?”
“What a foolish question to ask,” his grandmother admonished, her lip curling.
"If you know of him but he's still alive, then I don't foresee any problem. Sarica is apparently in good hands—-"
"But not the best."
"You know I have no choice—-"
"Stop that," Potenziana cut him off sharply. “I did not raise you to be a liar, bambino. Everyone has a choice.” Her voice softened, but her words cut deeper for it. “And you chose to have faith in yourself...even though you should know better by now.”
Bitterness flashed over Giancarlo's taut features. "What more can I do? I have already given her up—-"
"And that is your choice, not hers, not anyone else’s, and certainly not God’s.” Potenziana’s heart ached at the despair in her grandson's eyes. "Why must you isolate yourself so, Giancarlo?"
"Because it's safer for everyone that I remain dead."
His stubbornness frustrated her, but Potenziana did not reach her age by wasting her time fighting battles that were not hers to fight.
“I’ve told your brothers and Gazelle not to come here," she said finally. "And they want you to know that they're respecting your wishes because it’s the same for them as it is for me. Nothing has changed, and we are content to wait until you are ready to come back to us. You are my heir, and you will always be so.”
Giancarlo remained alone on the balcony, his gaze unseeing even as the kingdom’s capital glittered below him. Tomorrow, his grandmother would return to Boston, while he had chosen to stay behind. Viktor would never cause trouble again, and authorities were hunting down the others involved in his crimes.
It was time for his famiglia to have a new leader.
And time for Sarica to move on with Dauphin Tueur.
A NEW MONTH BEGAN, and life continued. Work required Giancarlo to revisit his estate in Moskra, accompanied by Justina and Sheikh Nassif Al-Mansouri. Information was traded at agreed prices, each of them pursuing their own motives. The sheikh sought the traitor attempting to build Kivr’s first drug cartel. Justina aimed for a high position in Moskra’s intelligence agency. And Giancarlo...
“Why do you want to know more about Dauphin Tueur again?” Justina asked, raising an eyebrow.“Classified.”
“That line only works if you have a position in government,” Nassif drawled, “which you don’t.”
“If this is still about Sarica—”
“It’s not,” Giancarlo denied, his tone clipped.
Nassif gazed at his friend in amusement. “If you truly mean that, perhaps now is a good time to let you know about a mutual acquaintance of ours. He wishes to know if he can ask your ex out—-"