26. Excerpt Charmed by the Mafia

Only a billionaire mafia could think he could escape death.

I'm his heart specialist, and he's the patient I absolutely can't resist.

So, when he called me his girlfriend to please his family, I could only nod in agreement.

Giovanni might be my forbidden patient and fake lover…

But I have real dreams about him taking my V-card.

Soon, these dreams would turn into nightmares.

His life is filled with danger.

And mine feels heavier now that I'm carrying the burden of his secrets.

Giovanni only has a few months left to live if we fail at treating him.

But I may not even have that much time remaining.

Giovanni will have to find a way to save my life from his own people.

Especially now that I'm carrying the child, he'd never want to lose…

Giovanni

Something isn't right.

The thought filters through my head as I struggle to pull in a breath. I'm halfway up the stairs and it feels like my heart is going to explode right out of my chest. After swiping a hand across my sweaty brow, I lay my palm against the wall above the railing and try not to panic.

For several moments, I don't move and just listen to the rapid drumming in my ears. Yeah, something is definitely wrong with me, and I have a feeling it's not good.

Lately, any little thing I do takes a herculean effort. And it's beginning to worry me. However, I've been doing my best to ignore the odd symptoms popping up. Like how my thirty-one-year-old ass can't walk up a flight of steps without getting winded. Or, how I'm always tired all the time no matter how much sleep I get. Which, of course, only makes me more grumpy than usual.

I keep telling myself I'm young and it's nothing serious. No need to worry. There's also the ridiculous amount of stress I'm under, too, and that would be enough to make anyone not feel well. My father is looking to me to take over the family business so he can retire soon. Matteo Marino knows how to apply the pressure and pour on the guilt to get his way.

Maybe any other eldest son would be excited and chomping at the bit to take over a billion-dollar empire. My father has certainly prepared me for it. But, lately, the honest to God truth is I don't want it. Any of it. Not the multi-million-dollar corporations, not the shady underground dealings and certainly not the weight of his legacy. It's suffocating.

Which probably wouldn't make sense to most people. But do I really want to be remembered like he will be? As a ruthless man who would choose money over his own family? A father who disinherited his daughters because they married rivals? A grandfather who chose not to meet his grandchildren because he couldn't come to terms with the fact that his daughters fell in love with men from the O'Shea family? Same with his son. My younger brother Luca recently wed Finley O'Shea. And what started out as a contract eventually turned into something real and beautiful.

The reality is my father's billion-dollar empire was built on selfish decisions, eliminating rivals and dirty dealings. The whole thing makes me a little sick. But he keeps looking at me, expecting me to be excited about stepping into his shoes. And I'm not. I haven't been feeling well for weeks now and, even though I'm trying not to worry about my deteriorating health, I can't help it. The symptoms are getting to be too much to ignore. Though I'm still trying my damndest to pretend like I'm healthy as a horse.

Even though I can't walk up a goddamn flight of stairs.

This is ridiculous, Gio. Get your shit together. You're fine.

I lay a hand on my chest and feel the rapid, out of control beating of my heart. Squeezing my eyes shut, I stand there and wait until it slows down and I'm breathing more normally again. Then I open my eyes again, look up the steps and realize I have about ten more to go.

But it may as well be one thousand. Fuck. I drop down on a step and rake my fingers through my thick, dark hair. What is wrong with me? Trying not to panic, I spend the next few minutes convincing myself I'm just under a lot of stress. Maybe I'm having a panic attack. I'll go to bed earlier tonight. Lay off the whiskey. Start taking my vitamins again. Everything will be fine and go back to normal.

Or, at least, that's what I try to convince myself.

"Get up, Gio," I growl under my breath. Reaching for the hand railing, I gather up my strength, and pull, heaving myself back up onto my feet. It takes some effort, but I stand up and nod. Okay, I did it. We're good to go.

I force myself to walk up the rest of the steps and, by the time I reach my bedroom, I'm ready to pass out from exhaustion. Dropping down onto my bed, I sprawl out on my back, a hand falling on my chest, and gaze up at the ceiling. I just need a quick nap. Then everything will be better after I'm refreshed and rested. My head turns to look at the clock on my nightstand. It's only eleven in the morning and I got up two hours ago. Yet, my body feels like it's been going nonstop for hours already. Days even.

Yeah, something is definitely not right, but I'll feel better after a nap. Twenty minutes ought to do the trick, I think, as I doze off.

Five hours later, the ringing of my phone wakes me up and I'm shocked to see how long I slept. I grab my phone, swipe the bar over, and try not to yawn, as I answer.

"Hey, Luca."

"Gio! I'm running late, but I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Late? For what? Pushing myself up onto my elbow, I frown.

"Sorry, but Finley and I were—" His voice trails off.

Yeah, I can pretty much guess what my younger brother and his pretty wife were doing. They're still newlyweds and even though the whole thing started out as an arranged marriage and they signed a contract with the intention of getting it annulled after three months, they fell in love. Hard and fast. Just another twisted thing my father set up to help himself. Although, he told all of us he regretted disinheriting Rory and Sofia and wanted to make up for it by fully supporting Luca and Finley O'Shea's marriage…of convenience.

But, once again, he was only lying to benefit himself.

"Yeah, I get it," I tell him, smothering a chuckle. "I'm, ah, actually running a little behind myself."

"Do you want to reschedule?"

"Nah, it's fine. I'll see you twenty."

"Okay, see you soon!"

After hanging up, it occurs to me yet again that Matteo Marino's ulterior motives always root back to his desire for more power and more money. As if the selfish bastard didn't have enough. He never cared about mending relations between our family and the O'Shea family like he claimed. He merely wanted to rally and build up support from his friends and business associates so they would turn on Desmond O'Shea who had taken over his family's business dealings.

But, after a war with Desmond, the O'Shea's triumphed, regained control of their compound and empire, and now Desmond is dead.

My father managed to put on a good show for a while and we all thought he turned over a new leaf. Yeah, right. Eventually, his true colors showed, and Luca told us he wasn't willing to trade Sean Flannigan, his captive, to save Finley's life. Flannigan was a pawn in his game and one he refused to give up. Even if it meant letting the woman Luca loved die.

Of course, Luca didn't allow it to happen, and he and the O'Shea brothers rescued Finley from Desmond's clutches. After a showdown on the upper level of their compound, Desmond somehow plummeted to his death. Finley was the only one with him when it happened, and it boggles my brain to think that tiny redhead managed to kill her evil uncle. I don't know all of the details, but, somehow, she took care of him, and it was a good thing.

Now, though, everyone is mad at my father again because he handed Finley over to the wolves. After escaping, she told us Desmond said he'd hired an assassin to take Matteo out. We aren't sure if that's true or not, but my father hasn't been leaving the house and I'm pretty sure he's beefed up the security. So, I'm going to assume he's worried about Desmond's threat. And I wouldn't put it past the man. He was out for everyone's blood, mostly his own family's, but he and my father hated each other.

Pushing thoughts of my father aside, I sit up, slide my legs off the bed and pause before standing up. Then I pull in a deep breath and stand up to my full height. Okay, so far, so good. No dizziness or exhaustion. Yet.

But I still have to change, drive over to the tennis courts and play a physical game against my very athletic, younger brother. I have a pretty good feeling that I'm going to suggest we end the game early and go down to the bar to get a drink instead.

Once I'm wearing sweatshirt and sweatpants, I grab my racket and coat and head downstairs. Even though it's a nice day, it's still the end of November in Chicago and that could mean anything. Sun one minute, rain the next.

Going down is easier than coming up, so I'm feeling pretty good. I head outside, jog down the steps of the brownstone—I never realized how many goddamn steps this place has until they started taking their toll—and slip into my Porsche Panamera parked at the curb. It's a super luxurious car while also being sporty and perfect for me because I enjoy having the best of both worlds.

The tennis courts aren't far away and, by the time I get there, get out and walk onto the court, I'm still feeling good. Relief washes through me. All I needed was a nap. Nothing to worry over.

Luca isn't here yet, so I gratefully drop onto a bench and set my racket down. Even though I'm feeling okay at the moment, I don't want to over-exert myself. Luca is competitive and so am I, so neither of us takes it easy on the other. We both like to win.

Draping an arm along the back of the bench, I look up at the trees. The few leaves that are left on the trees are barely hanging on, fluttering in the breeze. Just a few weeks ago, they were all different colors, so vibrant and pretty. I love the seasons and how the leaves change from green to orange, gold and red. I've never minded the cold weather and right now it feels invigorating. Refreshing and crisp as it fills my lungs, expanding them.

Slipping my coat off, feeling a little warm, I realize it's going to be December soon and then Christmas in the blink of an eye. The holidays seem to sneak up faster and faster every year. Things are so different now that my siblings are all married. Rory and Liam have a son named Griffin who is a year and a half, while Sofia and Rafferty have Killian. Luca and Finley just found out they're pregnant and I'll have a new nephew or niece next June. It's a little mind-boggling.

I'm happy for them and the love they've found. But the truth is I've been feeling a little lost. And a lot out of the loop lately. Now that my sisters and brother have found their significant others, I don't see them as much. They're busy with their families and I get that. My mom also moved out of the brownstone not long ago and is living over at the O'Shea compound. It seems that just about everyone has left. They've had enough of Matteo Marino and all of the hurt he's caused.

I'm not sure why I'm still there. But I think it has to do with the fact that I have nowhere else to go. No one needs me and that's a little depressing. A part of me would like to have a girlfriend, but that involves a lot of energy and work. And, let's face it, I can barely handle getting up the stairs.

There was a serious girlfriend a long time ago, but it didn't last. At the time, I think I loved her, but things didn't work out and we went our separate ways. It was hard at the time, but nothing I couldn't get over. I've never had trouble attracting women. I think they like the broody, not interested vibes I give off. But, for whatever reason, I lose interest fast and nothing lasts past a couple of dates and a romp or two in the sheets.

My siblings are lucky, but I'm not sure it'll ever happen for me. Love is a strange thing, and no woman has ever had the power to sweep into my world and knock me off my feet. Honestly, I doubt the perfect woman even exists for me. Hell, even if I could make her up from scratch myself, I don't even know what I want. Blonde? Brunette? Short? Tall? Bubbly? Smart? Funny? Silly?

Eh. Who knows? I sure don't, so it's really not a surprise that no one is able to catch my attention for long.

I glance down at my watch, wondering where my brother is, then look up right as Luca's Mercedes pulls up behind my car. It's about time. Unzipping the case that holds my racket, I pull it out and stand up. Luca walks over and we bump knuckles.

"Your wife is already knocked up," I tease him good naturedly. "Give her a break, Jesus."

Luca laughs. "Yeah, right. I can't stay away from her. It's like she's a drug and I just want to be high on her all the time."

"That's a lovely analogy," I say dryly.

"Hey, I never claimed to be a poet."

There's a warm glow in his brown eyes and it appeared after he met Finley. My younger brother can turn on the charm, but now he saves it all for his wife. I used to be able to be charming, but now I can't be bothered. It takes too much energy and there's no woman I've met lately that makes me want to exert that kind of effort. Especially, when I'm so damn tired all the time.

Relationships are hard work and I have way too much on my plate right now. Or, so I try to tell myself.

"C'mon, old man," he says and bounces a ball with his racket. "I'm ready to beat your ass."

"Yeah, right. Not gonna happen."

We move to opposite ends of the tennis court and Luca tosses the ball up and slams it hard. I run forward and hit it back over the net. We go back and forth for a little bit until I miss, and Luca whoops it up.

Trying to ignore the intense beating of my heart, the flutters I'm feeling at the hollow of my throat, I shake my head and lift my middle finger. Once I'm back in position, knees bent, I spin my racket and keep my eyes on the ball. Luca serves and I race forward and slam my racket into the ball, sending it right back over the net and barreling over where Luca easily hits it back.

Shit.I hurry to reach the ball, but miss, and suddenly it feels like a freight train is running over my chest. With a gasp, I drop my racket, lean over and plant my hands on my knees, wheezing. Trying to catch my breath is beyond me at this point and I hear Luca calling my name.

It's the last thing I hear, too, because suddenly my knees buckle and I drop to the ground, my head hitting the hard pavement.

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