Twisted Bond by SR Jones

Chapter Eleven

Giovanni

I’m losing her again. I thought bringing Amelia’s friend over, Janey, would help cushion the blow about her mother, but I should have realized that for one as sensitive as Amelia, no distraction could make dealing with her mother’s probable murder better.

She’s spending so much time shuttered away in the bedroom.

Damen and Maya had to leave, and Maya barely got to see Amelia again before their flight. Janey leaves tomorrow, and she hasn’t seen much of her friend either.

She’s promised to return soon, but whether that is entirely out of regard for Amelia, or partly for her own reasons, I’m not sure. Janey and Marcello have been flirting up a storm. I think she likes him almost as much as he likes her.

I need to find a way to bring my dolcezza back to me. I was so worried about her yesterday that I asked her to please let the doctor come and make sure that she's well. I managed to procure a list of the drugs Amelia was given while she was staying in the hospital in America. Luckily, apart from one night when she was double dosed on anti-anxiety medications, she wasn't on much at all. I think that must have been one of her grandmother’s stipulations to Doctor Rosendale. Most of the medicines that were given to Amelia were herbal medications or vitamin pills, along with night-time anti-anxiety meds.

At least I know she's not detoxing from anything that would make her sick. However, it seems as if the news of what happened to her mother has hit her harder than I envisaged. Part of me had hoped it would set her free. She had hinted to me before that there was a terrible legacy within her family, and I think she feared that she might go mad the same way her mother allegedly did. Although I knew she would be upset at the news of her mother’s true fate, I hoped that she might somehow find some relief and comfort in it too. Her mother wasn’t crazy, and in fact was in love, and she loved Amelia too. Enough she planned to take her daughter with her when she left. I was stupid and should have realized no one can find out their beloved parent was murdered and brush it off.

Instead, it seems to have sent Amelia into a genuine depression.

I reach our room and pause at the door. I dread going inside because I know that I'll find her laid on the bed, either reading or crying. Or sleeping. I'm not being selfish, or unrealistically wanting her to be all happy and full of fun for me. I'm simply worried sick and not sure how to react.

The door opens and as I'd guessed, Amelia is sprawled out on the bed with her Kindle in hand.

“How about we get some sun today?” I offer.

“I don't feel like it,” she says. Then she throws me a rare smile. “Thank you for the invite, though.”

She's so damn polite, like she's talking to a stranger. For the first time, I let impatience bleed into my words. “You can't go on like this day after day, Amelia. What about your friend who's come all this way to see you? She'll be going back in a day or so. Don't you want to spend time with her?”

“Oh.” Sarcasm bleeds from that one word, so sharp it could cut you. “I'm sorry; am I inconveniencing everyone?”

I sigh and rub at the three days’ worth of stubble along my jaw. “Amelia, this is not healthy.”

“Giovanni, I am, for all intents and purposes, a complete and total orphan. I have no family. None. What I do have is nothing but a legacy of betrayal, lies, and probably murder. I can't stop thinking about my mom.”

Maybe she needs to see a therapist. I doubt the suggestion will go down well, though, after her time spent at the hospital. “Are you still happy for the doctor to come and see you? He is due soon.” I gave instructions to Sylvia to bring the doctor up to Amelia’s room when he arrives. I think if I’m not there, she may open up more easily. He will talk to me after he consults with Amelia.

“Yes, that's fine.” She waves her hand, so damn listless and uninterested in everything.

I walk to the bed, bend down, and kiss her softly on the forehead.

The one strange thing is that despite her general malaise, Amelia comes alive at night when I come to bed, and every single night we have the most intense sex of my life. Something hits me then, and I think I understand why we do. In having sex with me, especially the passionate, intense sex we've been having, Amelia is trying to connect with someone. I ought to be flattered, but I have a horrible feeling that if it wasn't me, it would simply be someone else. Anybody. It's the connection she's craving. Any connection. I reach the door and turn back to look at her. For a moment, I wonder, does she truly love me at all?

I head downstairs and grab a bite in the main kitchen, craving the busy bustle and Nonna’s soothing presence, then I wander the halls, like some ghoul, lost and alone for the first time in this house full of my family and friends. I hear voices and pivot toward the casual sitting room, where Janey is sprawled on the sofa, laughing at something that Marcello is saying.

“Is she still in her room?” she asks me in English as I stroll inside, their conversation dying out. Janey speaks pretty decent Italian, but mostly we converse in English.

“Yes, I'm afraid so. I'm sorry you came all this way and you've hardly seen her.”

“Don't be silly. I'm just sad that I have to go back to America. I'm worried sick about her. This isn't about me, or you,” she says pointedly. “This is about Amelia. She was already grieving because she only recently lost her father. Now that she's found out about her mother, it must be a double blow, and then her grandmother has become someone she can never see again. Put yourself in her shoes. How would you react? She’s lost her whole family, and she’s so young.”

“I understand what you're saying,” my brother replies. “The thing is, though, it's not good for her. There's grieving, and then there's just taking to your bed and refusing to do anything. The latter is where Amelia is at. She needs to grieve but she also needs forays into the world of the living, or she’ll sink farther down.”

God, sometimes Marcello can be a perceptive bastard.

Janey taps her index finger against her lips for a moment as she thinks. Marcello watches the action with a hungry expression in his gaze. I wonder if they've screwed.

“You need to get her interested in something that she loves again,” Janey finally declares. “And the one thing that I know Amelia loves is her books. Tell her you need her to resume her work in the library. Make her feel bad about not doing so, and say that she's really needed… I think once she gets in there and gets back into work, she'll feel better. It'll take her a while to do so, and at first she might resent you for making her get out of bed, but in time it will do her good.”

I consider the idea. It might just work. I will have to present it as something of an order to make Amelia get out of that damn bed and get herself dressed and ready for the day, but if what it takes is tough love, then so be it.

I'm genuinely concerned for her wellbeing now.

I'm about to thank Janey when a sharp rap at the door grabs my attention. I stride to the door, open it, and smile when I see Sylvia.

“Signor Bianchi,” she says to me. “The doctor has completed his visit with Miss Amelia, and wishes to speak with you now.”

Trepidation fills me, but I force a smile on my face and nod to Sylvia. “Where is the doctor?” I switch into Italian easily, being multi-lingual and practicing often makes it simple for me to swap languages.

“I asked him to wait in your study. I hope that's okay?”

“Of course, that’s good; thank you.”

I march down the corridor, briskly heading to my study. When I enter the room, the doctor stands from where he is seated on one of the Chesterfield sofas.

“How is she?” I waste no time on small talk. I know this man; he’s doctored my family for years.

I pace to the window and stare out as I wait for his answer, my heart beating far too fast.

“Well, actually, she's glowing with health.”

I turned to him in surprise. “That's very ... specific wording.”

“Obviously, she's been through a lot recently. She told me of the trauma at the hospital, and of the news of her family. However, physically, she's in a good place. Furthermore, there's something that you need to know. I think you must go speak with your partner.”

“Oh no, I pay you, and you can tell me right now.”

The doctor sighs and scratches his nose. “She is my patient, and it's irrespective who pays me.”

I fold my arms across my chest and widen my stance. Doesn't he know who he's dealing with? “I think if you would like to continue to be in glowing health yourself, Doctor, you will tell me right now what the hell is going on.”

He runs his fingers around his collar, and his face flushes. “Don’t forget, I tended you when you were a snot-nosed little kid,” he bristles.

I rein in my temper. “Please.”

“God, you’re pushy, Gio. Your girlfriend,” he tells me, “is expecting a child.”

I don't say anything. I simply stare at the doctor as my mind turns.

I'm going to be a father?

Oh God, the medications they gave her at the hospital. They could have damaged the baby. How can I even be sure she’s pregnant? Can he tell this quickly? “Are you sure? Have you taken a blood sample?”

“I'm not one hundred percent sure, no. I carried out a urine dip test, and that showed me that she is pregnant; however, I have taken blood, and that will give us confirmation definitively, one way or the other. A false positive is rare, though.”

“Listen, recently she was in the hospital, and they gave her drugs. Anti-anxiety medication, I think. She was only on them for about three days; will they have harmed the baby?”

“I need you to get me a list of everything they had her on before I can be sure. But to reassure you, most antidepressants and anxiety medications tend to be fairly safe. It's early days too, and if she was only on them for a few days, it should be fine. In fact, Amelia herself was rather upset because she said she drank rather a lot a few days ago. I've reassured her that as long as she stops drinking now for the rest of the term, it's very unlikely there will be any affects.”

“She is on the pill.” Oh, God, so many things that could hurt the baby.

The doctor comes to me and puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Gio, do you know how many women a year get pregnant accidentally while they’re on the pill and go out drinking the odd glass of wine, eat oysters, and all the things they shouldn’t do? Millions. She can’t be very far along as she’s had no real symptoms and isn’t showing.”

I think back to how long it could be. Not long after we had unprotected sex, she lost it with me over the fight club. I had her locked away, and she ignored me for days on end. Then the Russians came. Amelia ran a-fucking-gain, and I fetched her back—again. “No, a month, if that. It seems awfully soon for it to be after we had unprotected sex.”

“Were you using condoms before?”

“Yes.”

He shrugs. “They’re effective but not perfect; no means of contraception is. Maybe it happened before the unprotected sex? I think the important facts are thus. Amelia is most likely pregnant, unless this is a false positive, which is rare. She is a young woman in good health, as long as she comes off the pill right now and follows a healthy diet, takes her vitamins, and avoids alcohol, all should be well.”

“How did she seem to take the news?” I ask him.

“I'd say that she's rather shell-shocked, to be honest.”

Her and me both.

I thank the doctor for his help and race up the stairs to our bedroom. I bust through the door and see Amelia on the bed, coiled around her doll, crying. My heart sinks. I had hoped that this news might give her a little bit of hope. Fear grips me cold and hard as I contemplate the fact that she might not wish to keep the baby.

“Dolcezza?”

She looks up, and a sob bursts out of her mouth.

“Giovanni, we're going to have a baby.” She sits up, hugging her doll to her, and rocks. Like this, she looks like a child herself almost.

A fierce protectiveness washes over me. I sit by her, pulling her into me, and letting her cry into my chest, her ragdoll squished between us.

“Are these happy tears, my sweetness, or sad tears?”

She sniffles against me and gives a little hiccupping, soft laugh. “Truly, I don't know.”

I kiss the top of her head. “Are you happy about the baby, do you think?”

She pulls away from my chest and looks up at me, her eyes red and puffy. “Everything just feels so overwhelming, Giovanni. I just got used to one new kind of reality, and bam, something else happens. When I dig deep down to see how I feel, I am more happy than I am scared. I've been feeling lost because I didn't have a family. Now, with the baby, I suppose I do.”

I'm relieved she feels the way she does about the baby, but there's something niggling at me about everything she's saying. She keeps talking about the baby as her family. About losing her family. Doesn't she see me as family?

All the fears I've been harbouring for the last few days roll to the surface. What if she doesn't love me anymore?

“Amelia, I'm your fucking family.”

I want to take the words back as soon as I've said them. They’re harsh, guttural, and full of anger. I promised myself, and God, that I'd make her want to stay. The thing is, though, deep down I'm terrified of what I’ll do if she doesn’t.

It's not a feeling that I'm used to, and now this small slip of a woman has me quaking in my boots because if she turns around and tells me she doesn't want me, I don't know what the hell I'll do.

I have a horrible feeling I might drag her up to the very top of this building and lock her in those rooms where I’d kept her before.

“Giovanni.” Her soft voice cuts through my raging thoughts. “I want for you to be my family. I want it more than anything. But you're not, at least not yet. I don't know… I always feel as if I'm not quite good enough for you. I also worry you could meet somebody else. I don't know what I am to you, not really.” She chews on the corner of a hangnail and glances up at me through sticky, wet lashes. “I know you said the other day that you want to marry me. But I feel so lost that, in some ways, I wish we were married already. I know that sounds crazy because it is rushed, but I crave that security.” She flushes. “Talk about laying your heart out on the line to get crushed.”

My heart sings with joy, and my soul roars in satisfaction. This I can fix. Her not loving me, I wouldn't have known what to do with. But this, I can make right.

“You need to belong.” It’s a statement, not a question because I finally realize what's going on with her and where she's coming from.

“Yes,” she whispers as if confessing a dirty secret.

She looks around the room, rubs her eyes, then looks back at me.

“I need to feel that I have an anchor, a base. How things started between us, and then how they progressed, it just feels really strange. Like this is some wonderful fairy tale holiday romance, but at any moment it's going to end. I lost my father so recently, I found out my grandmother is basically lost to me for the rest of my life, and then the news about my mother... it was all too much, and I’ve felt completely and utterly lost and alone. I know I wasn't alone because I had you, but I’ve felt alone. It's really hard to put into words,” she says, “but I'll try. At the moment, I feel like this single unit. You love me, and I love you, but we're two single units that love each other. We're not a family, not really—not officially. You come back here, and you come as part of a whole massive unit of people who love you. Your brother, your cousin, and of course your nonna. On one level, you could argue the villagers are sort of an extended family, if I'm being honest. You belong; this is your home, your people, and I don’t belong. I want to.”

She looks down at the bedspread and sighs in frustration. “That literally makes no sense at all, forget everything I said.”

“No. It does make sense, actually. I don't want us to be separate units anymore, Amelia. I've been trying to hold back because I don't want to freak you out or scare you by coming on too strong. I want you to be my wife, and I meant it when I said it. And now if you're going to have a baby, well, either we get married when you're going to have a big bump…”

She screws up her face and wrinkles her nose, making me smile.

“I think you'd look gorgeous in a wedding dress with a bump,” I tell her. “There are two other options, though. One is that we wait until we've had the baby. Or we do it now.”

“Do what now?” she asks.

“We get married.” I stare at her, my throat dry, my heart pounding, and my palms slippery.

This is the most vulnerable I've ever been in front of anyone.

She launches herself at me as slender arms wrap around my neck.

“Really?” she asks excitedly.

“Really,” I confirm. “I want you to be my wife, and I can't imagine anything better than us getting married here. We could organize it very quickly.”

Her face falls a little as she picks up her pants in a mannerism I have come to recognize.

“What's wrong?” I ask her.

“I'd quite like for Janey to be here when we get married if possible. So if we do it too quickly she won't be able to get back to Italy. I'd also like Maya and Damen to come. I don't really have any other friends or people to be here for me. Oh my gosh, and if it's in a church and there's different sides for the groom and the bride, I'm going to look like someone who has no friends or family at all.”

“Do you want it to be in a church?” I ask her.

“I'm not particularly religious myself,” she says. “I always went to church with my family, but I'm happy for it not to be in a church.”

“Why don't we get married here at the villa?” I suggest. “A civil ceremony. Nonna will be upset, of course, because I do believe she would want for me to get married in the cathedral. But for me, my faith is something personal. It’s between me and God.”

“We can get married here, at the villa?”

“If that's not too boring?” I say.

She bursts out laughing, and it's a joyous sound. “Gio, it's the most non-boring thing I can think of. It's so romantic. Like a fairy tale. You know, we need to get Maya on this.”

Dear God. Maya organizing our wedding. What have I gotten myself into? I smile at Amelia, though, and pull her to me as I take her lips in a hard kiss.

“Does this mean you're going to come back to me?” I ask her.

“I never left you,” she says. “What do you think I was trying to tell you every night in bed between these sheets?”

“I thought that was some desperate need for a connection”

“I suppose it was in a way, but it was a lot more than that. It was me letting you know that I still loved you, and I still wanted you, but I was dealing with shit. You know, even though I'm excited about this marriage, and a wedding, and even growing excited about the baby, now I’m getting over the shock, I’m still going to be dealing with a lot of shit. I'm going to have good days as well as bad days. I might have days where I'm down and I cry a lot because I'm that kind of person. I can't hide my feelings. And a lot of the time when I think about my mother, and even my grandmother, I just feel overwhelming grief.”

“I don't expect you to pretend or force yourself to feel differently to how you really do,” I tell her. “I was scared that you were slipping away.”

Her stomach rumbles loudly as she puts her hand over it. I place my palm over hers and imagine the tiny life in there. A feeling of overwhelming rightness rushes through me. “Would you like some food, my principessa?” I ask her.

“I would love some,” she says.

“Let me go fix something for us to eat.”

I pause at the door, just as I had done the last time I was in this room, and look back at Amelia, but this time I am feeling completely different. I'm full of wonder and awe at the fact we've created a life together, but that wonder is haunted by cold, chilly fear because now I really do have something to lose.

I blow her a kiss, and she giggles, but as I close the door behind me my mind is already racing.

Before I go and fix some food, I head to my study. I place a call to Corfu.

“Da,” the heavy Russian voice says.

“K?” I ask.

“No, fucker, this is Andrius. Asshole can’t tell Russians apart.”

Christ, the chip he is carrying must weigh a ton. I’m not sure what his issue is, because they sound alike sometimes.

I ignore his moody-asshole ways and get right to it. “I need to ask for your help and advice.” I perch on the edge of the desk and tell Andrius my latest news. He breaks into my explanation to congratulate me, and I thank him, but then I push on. “The thing is, I know you had said you’d send me some men, but I need them now. Damen headed back to Athens, and he and Stamatis will be working on the Polish problem, but I don't expect them to resolve it soon. Of course, I have my own men, and they're well trained, but nothing like what you guys turn out. I want the best. Is there anything you can do? I'd also like someone to look over my cyber-security and some other issues. In all we did, we paid for the best that money can buy, but money can't buy loyalty, and I'd like to know that someone’s looked who I trust fully.”

“Give me five minutes, and I'll call you straight back.”

He hangs up without waiting for me to answer. I pace my study, impatient. I'm tempted to pour myself a vodka, but I resist because I want a clear head when I speak to Marcello next. After what feels more like thirty minutes than five, my phone rings. I answer immediately. “Took you long enough, dick,” I say.

“I heard congratulations are in order.” Konstantin laughs.

“I got the wrong one again,” I tell him.

“The other one is on the line too,” Andrius grouses.

“I hear you’re wanting that protection sooner rather than later.”

“That's right, K. Andrius has filled you in, no? So, you'll understand the urgent need.”

“I do indeed. Listen, we've had a chat, and we've talked to Reece. You know how shit hot he is on cyber systems and security. He says he will come over there and set everything up for you. He'll also bring some of our men that we've trained in the first tranche of recruits, who will work for you. I was going to send you Target because you emphatically told me you didn't want Marcus to lead your security. But he's working on something with Cole right now. Priest is pulled out right now because he won’t leave Roze if there’s a raised threat level. Cole is also out of the picture for the moment. Doesn't leave me too many men that I personally know or really trust to send to you. I think you should give Marcus a try.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and consider what he's saying. Marcus is probably excellent at what he does. On that score, I couldn't get anyone better. It's just a question of trust in someone who worked for British intelligence.

“Listen, I get it, I really do.” Andrius says. “But at the end of the day, he's working with us now. He's doing so of his own accord, and he let us shoot him as part of our cover, so frankly, I doubt that you could get anyone more committed.”

“He let you shoot him. As in with a gun?”

“Yes, with a gun and bullets and everything. It’s a long story,” K says sarcastic as hell.

“You don't have to keep him there permanently, but at least let him come out, set the team up, and work with Reese.”

“Fine. Make it happen.”

“Yes, sir,” K says sarcastically. “I'll be in touch when everything is ready with the details.”

“Great, thanks.”

We hang up, and I go in search of Marcello. Before I can find my brother, my cell buzzes in my pocket. I take it out and stare at the unknown number. “Pronto.”

“Is this Giovanni Bianchi?” a female voice says in American accented English.

“Yes, this is he,” I reply in English.

“It’s Georgie. Amelia’s friend from Valley Gardens.”

“I remember,” I tell her. I wonder what she needs help with. I gave her my card in case she ever found herself in dire straits.

“My father asked me to call and say thank you for helping us that night and offering to get us out of the country.”

“You found him?” I ask. I recall her telling me he was the leader of a motorcycle chapter.

“Yeah, I did. He wanted me to let you know, he repaid the favor. That bastard, Rosendale, won’t be bothering Amelia anymore.”

“Wait, what?”

“My daddy isn’t any old Prez, of any old club. He’s a one-percenter, you know, the real badass guys. Things are taken care of. No one will harm Amelia if she comes back to America, including her bitch of a grandmother.”

Shit.

“Please tell me Agnes is still alive.”

She laughs. “Oh, she’s alive, but she spent some time getting acquainted with my daddy and a few of his friends. She knows if she does one thing to hurt Amelia again, then she’ll suffer an agony only my daddy can deliver. It’s one she won’t soon speak of either. She’s utterly unharmed, but a bit scared.”

“Wait, how do you know about all of that? Did Amelia tell you?”

“My daddy is a very powerful man. Maybe not in the same way you are, but he’s connected, and he has means, and he can find things out. The only reason he didn’t come for me before is because he thought it was for the best with his sickness and all, but he’s doing much better now. Getting his strength back. He has ensured my friend is safe, if she wants to come back home anytime. I wanted to let you know. I must go now. This isn’t a number you can reach me on normally. If Amelia wants to get a hold of me, I’ve sent you an email with my regular number on there. Bye.”

She hangs up before I can ask anything else. I’m utterly floored. Fuck me. Her father must indeed be a powerful man. Not sure how I feel about Amelia having the daughter of a one-percenter as a friend. I decide to think about whether or not to pass on Georgie’s number.

I focus on the here and now, and try once more to find my brother.

“I find him staring out of the windows facing the pool in the dining room. I follow the line of his gaze to see that he's watching Janey do lazy laps up and down the length. “You're fucking obsessed is what you are.”

He turns to me and gives a soft laugh. “Yeah, I think I pretty much am.”

“I want you to call an extraordinary meeting of the board tomorrow. Make sure that everyone attends.”

“Sounds pretty serious,” he says.

I walk away from the window, and he follows. I close the door and sit heavily on the sofa. “I know that we closed the club because of the threat from the Polish group, and the plan was always to reopen once things died down. But I think we should keep it shut.”

Marcello paces the floor, swinging his arms as he shakes his head. “Firstly, that has nothing to do with the board. Secondly, it's a really shitty idea. The club is what keeps us safe.”

“It did,” I say. “Things have changed, though. Hell, half the people we were worried about back in the day are in prison now. I'd say a good third of the clans are run by women because the men are in jail.”

“The women aren't exactly a soft touch,” Marcello points out.

“No, but they don't go into the club, do they? Or, at least, not to fight. It serves no purpose as far as a third of the clans go these days. Anyway, I'm beefing things up here at the villa. We're going to have new security sent over by the Russians. We invested, and now it's time for us to take our reward.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and stares down at me. “What the fuck has brought this on?” he asks.

“You're going to be an uncle,” I tell him.

The way his mouth falls open is reward enough for the shock I've just given him, and I smirk.

“Are you fucking with me?”

“Absolutely not. I'm going to be a father, and I'm going to get married. I can't spend my time in some shithole cellar in Naples watching people beat each other up every week. Furthermore, with the threat from the Polish gang, it's not safe. We need to wind it down, but we need to do so in a way that doesn't make us weaker.”

“I'm not sure that's a possibility.”

“Me either, which is why I want to call the board meeting. I'm going to liquidate a lot of our assets.”

He sits opposite me, making a steeple with his fingers as he stares at me. “Another rather large decision to make.”

“It is, but it makes us safer. The money that we have tied up can be put to better use these days. I've been looking at land, and there's a few places I'd like to invest in and buy property with acreage. We can stock things up, make sure we have everything we need, and have a few bolt holes just in case the shit hits the fan.”

“You mean run away?” he says. “I didn't spend years working my way up in the police force, getting every corrupt judge in the area in my pocket, just for you to blow it all away on what? A piece of land in New Zealand or somewhere so we can go and run away like little bitches.”

“It's not like that at all. I want to protect our family more than anything. I also think that having money in the markets isn't the wisest way to go moving forward. I've been meaning to diversify for a long time. You can't get much more secure than property. Now with the investment into the Russians’ business, and then sending some of their men over, we will be untouchable, here anyway. It's just insurance. Plus, I feel like owning some nice holiday homes.”

His mouth twitches at one side, a sure sign he’s thawing slightly.

“I haven’t thought through everything yet. And, of course, I'm going to take your advice on things; Greta’s too. We three will have a long discussion before the meeting, but things need to change. Amelia, and our baby, might be the catalyst, but it was coming anyway. We've had enough discussions about this recently, Marcello. The way the world is now… If there's another banking crash, I don't think us financiers will be popular folk. I want out of that world, and I want you guys out of it as well.”

“We'll talk about it together like you say. And I am pleased about your news, Giovanni. I just think these are huge changes. And change always has unintended consequences.”

“It does, and not changing leads to stagnation.”

He punches my shoulder, jokingly, and gets up to leave the room. He pauses by the door and turns back to me. “When is this wedding then?”

“Soon. I need to set a date allowing people time to get their travel plans in order. Other than that, I want it as quick as possible. I want a small affair, here at the villa. I don't want to invite loads of people because Amelia doesn’t have many she can invite, and I don't want her to feel shittier about her situation.”

“Invite the Russians and their wives. She got on with those, didn't she?” He shrugs.

“I will. I'll also invite Damen and Maya and his friend Alesso and partner.” I smirk at him. “I think that Amelia is going to ask Maya to help plan the wedding.”

“Fuck me.” Marcello makes the sign of the cross dramatically across his chest. “There's no way it's going to be small and tasteful if that woman is put in charge.”

“Don't worry; I'll tell Damen to keep her in check.”

“Are you sure about this? It’s a huge step. I get she’s having your kid, but you have the money and the power to keep the kid here…”

“I love her,” I tell him simply. “And you’ll never talk about such a fucking thing again, you understand?”

“I understand. It all seems so sudden.”

“It is. Doesn’t make it any less real. My gut hasn’t led me wrong before. In fact, it’s made me king of all I fucking survey. Now, I’ve found my queen, and you will treat her as such. You’re my brother, but don’t make her feel shitty or we’ll have issues.”

“I wouldn’t. This is between you and me. I only want to be certain you know what you’re doing.”

“I know what I’m doing.” I blow out an annoyed breath.

“Okay, then.”

“Okay, then.”

My brother leaves the room, and I rub weary eyes.

I need to call my lawyer. I’m no longer planning to take Amelia’s house. What I am going to do is pay for her to get a lawyer to get her damn grandmother removed from everything and anything to do with it. I’m also going to clear the debts on the place, and then Amelia can decide what to do with it. She might still want to work on renovating it, or she may decide to sell. This way, I give her the power to choose and control the fate of her legacy.

We will face a lot of challenges in the coming years. I’m not naïve enough to think it will be all smooth sailing, but with Amelia by my side, I feel ready. Who knows how things will shake down ultimately with the Polish gang? Who knows how persuadable Greta and the wider board will be about divesting our holdings and liquifying and consolidating them while the going is good? Who knows what the future holds in such uncertain times? One thing is certain…change. Change is life; to not change is stagnation. I’ve always believed this. I’ll embrace my uncertain future with open arms.

My world is about to change, but I think it's going to be for the better.