Chapter Forty-Four

Theo

T he drive home from the hospital is a silent one, thick with the tension of words lingering unspoken between us. Danica refused to look at me the entire time we were in my truck, even though I know she felt me watching her any chance that I could throw a glance in her direction. Parking in the underground garage, I motion her forward towards the private elevator which takes us directly to my penthouse apartment. Hesitating for only a moment, she shoulders her purse, snapping to attention, spine going ramrod straight as I guide her forward with a hand strategically placed at the small of her back.

After scanning us in with the keypad, it quickly rises, opening to the lobby of my premium living space. Dripping in luxury, no expense was spared on this apartment that was professionally decorated and provided for me as part of the fine print in the negotiations my agent led on my behalf when I re-signed for a longer contract with the Sabretooths during my renewal period. I have been their star defenseman, and now captain, helping lead the team to the championships with two back-to-back Stanley Cup victories.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I rock back on my heels and watch her as she takes it all in. Though similar to the last apartment I had, back when we were still dating, this place is opulence personified. Everything is on a much grander scale than the old place. I hadn’t wanted to bring her here. I know she was never a huge fan of the old apartment, claiming it just wasn’t “me,” so she probably won’t think much better of this one. And she was right. It wasn’t, and this isn’t either.

But when it came down to it, I honestly just didn’t care enough to give any real input. This place was never meant to be my permanent home. All my free time and energy, however little it may have been, has been devoted solely to building Danica and I’s forever home. I just needed a place to crash that was conveniently located close to the stadium, while also being within a reasonable distance to my cousin and all our more. . . illicit activities.

Danica’s eyes widen as she steps further into the space, mouth in a silent ‘O’ as she takes everything in. Modern and industrial, the open floor plan is highlighted with stainless steel appliances, chrome accents, and exposed beams throughout. Everything else is done up in various shades of gray, just like the rest of my life. But what really gets her, drawing her attention from across the room until she has no choice but to slowly make her way closer, is the floor-to-ceiling windows with a 360* panoramic view of the city.

The view really is spectacular. It’s what drew me to the apartment in the first place. And I can’t help the small bit of satisfaction that I feel as she takes in the view in stunned silence. Danica inches her way forward, gently pressing a hand to the glass as she looks out over the cityscape, and I almost miss the reverent “Wow!” that comes out in a whisper. I can’t help but agree. ‘Wow,’ indeed. But it’s not the city view that has me in awe right now, it is the stunning beauty before me.

We spent hours at the hospital, and now, a rare bit of afternoon sunshine poking through the clouds in the otherwise bleak overcast skies provides a stunning backdrop for my girl. The light hits at just the right angle, casting her in a beautiful glow, illuminating the natural highlights in her gorgeous red curls and putting her adorable freckles on display. My heart stutters in my chest as I take in such an incredible view. One day, I’m gonna fuck her against these windows, watch her come apart in my hands as she watches the world below us. I can’t fucking wait.

The buzzing of my phone in my pocket pulls me out of my own lascivious thoughts, and I reluctantly tear my gaze away to look at my messages.

A: Hey man. Got something you need to see.

Me: Can it wait? I’m kinda in the middle of something.

A: No, it can’t fucking wait. Get your ass over here ASAP.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, I close out of the text thread and open a blank one before shooting off another quick message.

Me: I need you to get Jayce and get over to my place ASAP.

D: What’s up, boss?

Me: I told you to stop calling me that. I’m not your boss.

D: I mean. . . you kinda are. . .

Me: Just shut up and get over here, will you?

Shoving the phone forcefully back into my pocket, I roll my eyes at his words. From day one, Darrion has been a pain in the ass, always trying to find new ways to get under my skin. Even so, he is one of very few people that I would trust with my life, and if I have to be away from Danica’s side, I know that he will look out for her like she was his too.

A few minutes later, there is a sharp knock on the door before it is opened and two of my closest allies walk in. Darrion Galanis and Jayce Petralia are two of my men, ones that I knew from back home and personally worked with during the times when I was doing favors for my uncle. They started from the bottom with nothing, and I liked the fact that these men hadn’t been part of my father’s inner circle back when he was the head of the Giovanni family business . After my uncle stepped up to lead, when I refused to take on the role that was destined to be mine, I owed him a favor for cleaning up the mess that I left behind with my father.

Being young and emotional at the time when everything happened, I made some pretty big mistakes. Messy ones. My uncle Dante stepped in to help me clean up the shit-show I left behind, and in return, he recruited me to help “expunge” the ranks my father left behind.

Looking back on it, I can see that Dante was using it to teach me how to get the job done right. At the time, I was belligerent and resented the fact that he was forcing me to keep one foot in a life I so desperately wanted out of, as a return on the “favor” he did me by cleaning up my father’s murder. My father, for all his faults, had taught me how to bully, how to intimidate and torture when necessary; he had even forced me to kill a man. But for every painful lesson learned, he never bothered teaching me the basics, how to clean up a mess that I made to begin with.

As the son of the Don, it was “beneath me” to do the work of grunt labor. And disposing of bodies after the fact was definitely considered “grunt labor.” No, my father, the drunk bully that he was, felt it was more important to learn how to intimidate and bully, it didn’t matter if they were rivals or enemies or simply men who worked for him. The man was heartless, and I learned more by his own hand than through casual observation. No one knows better than I just how cruel a man my father could be.

My Zio Dante, however? He may have reluctantly stepped into my father’s shoes after I refused my rightful role, but he was the complete opposite of my father in every way. As my father’s younger brother, and his second in command, Dante was around for every brutal moment of my father’s sadistic rule. Forced to watch silently from the sidelines as my father gave in to his gluttonous impulses, he could do nothing as my father used his fists to control myself and Ma. He would have been killed without a second thought if he ever voiced his concerns.

Dante is a good man though. More of a father to me than my old man ever was. Every time I was forced to stay home from school to nurse my bruises that were in various stages of healing, Dante was always there to make sure my father never went too far. His house was always a safe space for me when I needed a breather. Dante was the one who taught me how to fight back, how to defend myself. To defend Ma. And when the time came and I finally ended the pathetic excuse of a life that belonged to my piece of shit father, he was the one who taught me how to clean up my mistakes.

So, after everything, it is safe to say that I felt like I owed him for taking me under his wing. Dante had no qualms about me working my way up from the bottom, learning the ropes the right way and earning the respect and trust of the men who worked for our family. He also respected that the life laid out for me was not the path that I wanted for myself.

Dante bought me my first pair of skates, thinking that time spent on the ice would be a good way to stay out from under my old man’s thumb. He was the first one to see the raw talent bubbling under the surface, and though he would never admit it, I know he was the one who paid for my lessons and for my gear.