15. Max

15

MAX

I sit at my desk, not paying any attention to what my staff are saying to me. Instead, I’m lost in Gia. The memory of tracing my fingers down her body as she lay underneath me. Her honey blonde hair spilling across my pillow, and the moonlight filtering through the windows bathing her skin in an ethereal glow. The passion we shared was everything I remembered and more, tender yet fierce, familiar yet thrillingly new.

My chest swells with a contentment I haven't felt in years. Having her in my bed felt right in a way nothing else has. But even as I bask in the afterglow, doubt creeps in like a shadow.

What would Nic say if he knew I'd fucked his baby sister? The same sister he trusted me to protect. The same woman who's technically my goddaughter. The guilt suffocates the joy.

The weight of our situation settles over me. We're living in a bubble here, sheltered from reality. But reality has a way of bursting even the most beautiful bubbles. But I don’t regret last night. I've spent too many years denying what I feel for her. Maybe for once, I can allow myself this slice of happiness. If we’re discreet, no one will have to know.

“Mr. Giraldi?” Alica interrupts my thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay, Sir?”

“Yes, yes. Just thinking.” I sift through my mind, trying to remember what we were talking about.

She turns to Donovan, my right-hand man here in Vegas, and Caliente, his right-hand man. “I’ll have those reports to you this afternoon.”

Donovan’s eyes narrow as he looks at me. “Sure you’re okay, Boss?”

“Yes. Just… as you know, I have Don Nardone’s sister and children?—”

“Kids. I haven’t had a good night's sleep since my first one was born.” Caliente laughs.

“Yes.” I agree even though it’s not Dario and Daniella who’re distracting me.

My phone rings, and I’m grateful to be saved by the bell. I check the caller ID. “It’s Nardone.”

Everyone rises and exits my office. I poke the answer button. “Nic.”

“Max, just calling to update you.”

It’s sick, but I have this hope that he’s not about to tell me the stalker threat has been neutralized and Gia and the kids can return to New York. Not yet. I need more time with her.

“You’ve got news?”

“I’ve eliminated Rinella and the Russian off the list.”

“Oh. So just Benny and Ricky?” I take a sip of my coffee and wince. It’s gone cold.

“I added a neighbor of hers. He’s been hanging around her place a lot since she left. But to be honest, my money is on Benny.”

“Is it just a hunch or do you have anything specific?” I ask.

"He's gone dark. Left Atlantic City three days ago, and none of my guys can track him down."

“Did you check with Lardo? I think he and Benny are close.” I ask about the loan shark operating in Atlantic City.

“Yeah, says he has no clue where Benny is off to, except hiding.”

“How much did he lose?” It always amazes me how stupid men like Benny are. Yes, I know gambling is an addiction, but still. The guy had enough money to live well from his father, plus the small fortune Nic gave him. He could gamble on stocks and live well on some beach in the Pacific. But no. He has to gamble it all away.

“He’s into Lardo for a hundred k, but he’s not the only one.”

“Fucking idiot. Any chance he’s dead?” You can’t get money from a dead person, but I know plenty in the business who kill debtors just because they’re sick of dealing with them.

“Maybe, but until I know for sure, I want him found. I don’t see him coming your way knowing you’re there, but who knows? Like you said, he’s an idiot.”

Gambling establishments have grown throughout the country, so Benny could be in Philadelphia, Mississippi, Louisiana, or even Palm Springs, California. I could totally see him trying to hobnob with celebrities. He could even go to Reno, Nevada, although my reach extends there. “I’ll check in Reno, just in case.”

“Good.”

“You know, Nic, Benny doesn’t strike me as a man who is subtle enough for this kind of stalking. He’s more in your face.”

"I don’t want to underestimate him. He knows people. People who don’t like me or who were loyal to my dad or Aldo.” Nic pauses. "How's Gia doing?"

I think of Gia’s face as she came, so beautiful. I clear my throat. "She's… adjusting."

"You're taking good care of them." Pride and brotherly affection color his words, making my stomach twist. "I knew I could count on you."

The guilt rises. If he knew how I'd held his sister last night, how I'd kissed every inch of her skin… I force the images away.

"Just doing what needs to be done," I say, my voice carefully neutral. "They're family."

Family. The word sits heavy between us. Nic trusts me with his sister's safety, and here I am, falling deeper into feelings I have no right to have.

"Keep them close, Max," Nic says, "until we figure this out."

My heart constricts. "Always."

That evening, I pull into the driveway feeling tired and perhaps a little apprehensive. Gia and I keep going back and forth in our attitudes toward each other. Usually, it’s my fault, but I’ve discovered that pushing her away doesn’t work. So, I’m switching strategies. I want to take what I can for how long I can with her.

I enter the house, and twin blurs of energy rush toward me.

"Uncle Max! We picked a twisty slide and fort and a climbing wall and swings!" Dario jumps up and down in front of me.

"Maria made turkeys with us for Thanksgiving," Daniella adds, bouncing on her toes.

I scoop them both up, their excited chatter washing away the day's tension. Before their arrival, coming home meant silence and solitude. Now? Now I find myself speeding through afternoon meetings just to get back here.

"Did you save any energy for dinner?" I ask, carrying them to the kitchen.

The smells of garlic and herbs fill the kitchen. Gia stands at the stove, stirring what looks like pasta sauce. She gives me a soft smile that makes my pulse quicken.

"They've been non-stop since this morning," she says, a hint of worry in her voice. "Maria made spaghetti. Are you ready to eat?”

“Starving.”

“Maria says we’re going to have a Thanksgiving feast just like the Pilgrims,” Daniella says as we sit at the table.

“Did she, now?” The last time I had a Thanksgiving meal was last year at Gia’s house. More accurately, I observed her having Thanksgiving from my post at the door. She’d invited me to join them, but I’d stubbornly declined. Before that, I didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving. What was the point? It’s just me. Instead, I gave house staff the night off to be with their families.

Over plates of spaghetti, the kids detail their day, most activities involving Maria. She must be exhausted.

I notice Gia's distracted expression, the way she pushes her food around.

"Hey." I catch her eye across the table. "Something wrong?”

She glances out the window toward Maria’s house. "I feel bad dumping the kids on her while I work. That's not what you hired her for."

“If I know Maria, she offered to take the kids.” She loves kids. If I had a nickel for every time she said I should marry and have kids, I’d be richer than I am now.

“Yes, well, it’s not her job. I’d like to pay her for her time.”

“I’ll pay her. And I’ll talk to her. If you need a nanny or something, we’ll arrange that, but you won’t find much better than Maria.”

"But—”

"No buts." I reach across the table, briefly touching her hand. “You need time to focus on your work and time for yourself."

“I like Maria,” Dario says.

“Then it’s settled,” I say.

That evening, we watch a movie in the theater. After, Gia corrals the kids toward their room to get ready for bed.

“Can you tuck us in too, Uncle Max?” Daniella asks.

Something in my heart shifts at the way she and Dario look up at me expectantly. “Sure. I’d like that.” I follow them and Gia to the kids’ room, watching as they go through their bedtime routine. Dario insists I read a story, thrusting a well-worn book into my hands. I settle into the chair between their beds, and they snuggle under their covers.

The simple act of reading a bedtime story feels so domestic, a feeling I always thought I didn’t want. But I’m entranced by their eager faces, the way they hang on every word, how they correct me when I try to skip pages. Daniella's green eyes, so like her mother's, grow heavy as I near the end of the story.

"One more?" Dario asks through a yawn.

"Not tonight, buddy." I tuck his blanket around his shoulders, surprised by how natural the gesture feels. "Sweet dreams."

Daniella reaches up for a hug, her small arms wrapping around my neck. "Night, Uncle Max."

I kiss their foreheads, a lump forming in my throat. Gia gives them kisses and then leaves the room with me. I turn off the light, leaving just the soft glow of their nightlight. I watch Gia next to me as she gazes at her children. Whitley had commented that Gia didn’t have choices in her life, which was true. Gia didn’t want to marry Aldo, but there’s no denying that Gia loves her children. I imagine if asked if she could go back and change her life, Gia wouldn’t change a thing. That includes running off with me. If she’d done that, she wouldn’t have had these kids, and they’re the center of her universe. It makes me love her even more.

I turn to her. "Well, looks like I've got the tucking-in routine down. Need me to practice on anyone else?"

Her lips curve into a knowing smile. "Are you offering to tuck me in, Mr. Giraldi?"

"Just trying to be thorough in my hosting duties." I step closer, my hand finding the small of her back and tugging her closer.

"Are you now?" She raises an eyebrow but lets me guide her toward my wing of the house.

"Definitely." I lean down, my lips brushing her ear. "Did you know that I'm very particular about proper tucking techniques?"

She laughs softly. "Well, I wouldn't want to miss out on your expertise."

In my room, I feel more in control than I did last night. Last night, I was fueled by frustration and frenetic need. Tonight, I want to take more time. More care.

But Gia has other plans. “Show me how to use my mouth on you.” She lowers to her knees.

My brain short circuits.