Of volume lineage

XXIII

Giova

Vincent stepped up to my side as I surveyed the ocean. Ships were shrouded by mist, the ocean so dark it looked like a pool of ink. The summer breeze rolled over us, making the usually harrowing docks slightly more pleasant. I never used to notice such trivial things before, but now my mind was seeing a little more beauty in the world, a little more artistry.

I knew why. There was only one new variable.

She was currently peering over the edge of the dock, black coat pooling around her. Isabella had insisted on joining me and I had allowed her, but she had grown bored when we began discussing arranged marriages, debts to be repaid and the latest news about Pakhan Konstantin–whose newfound bloodlust and insanity had interested my wife for only a moment.

Vincent spoke first, my eyes remaining on Isabella. “I want to ask your permission.”

Ah, finally. After over a year of dealing with his moony eyes and teenager boy love life, my relief had come.

“Go on.” A breeze caught Isabella’s hair and she angrily tucked the strand behind her ear.

He shifted on his feet, his only sign of discomfort. “I want to ask Lucrezia to marry me. I would like your blessing.”

“Have you spoken to your parents about this?” I asked. A wave crashed against the dock and Isabella took a hurried step back.

“I have.”

“And?”

“They are supportive but against the match.”

I eyed him. Vincent was good at feigning coldness, but that’s all it was: an act. Beneath the mask, I could pick out his insecurities and irritations easily. “If you want to ask Lucrezia to be your wife, I have no problem. However, I would warn you against it.”

Vincent blinked at me. I, too, was surprised by my words.

“Sir?”

“You ca

“I suppose an alliance is easier to build a marriage on.” As soon as he said it, Vincent paled faintly. “I meant no disrespect, sir.”

I nodded curtly. Isabella had spotted something below the dock and had gotten to her knees, peering through the cracks of the wood.

“Lucrezia will hate you once you tell her the truth, so I don’t blame you for your hesitation. It is you and you alone who will wake up every day beside her and continue to lie. If you can live with that, I see no reason why you shouldn’t ask.”

My underboss said nothing.

Isabella looked up in that moment, eyes searching until they landed on me. “Giova

I started towards her immediately. Because my wife had little self-preservation, she leaned closer, pressing her face to the dock.

“Do not lean on the ground, Isabella. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”

Isabella ignored me. She often did whenever I patronized her. I continued doing it because a strange thrill went through me at her defiance.

I crouched beside her, gently moving her head to the side. She pointed. “It looks like there is a bag wrapped around his head.”

I pause, turning back to Vincent. His face was remote.

“Come on, Isabella.” I pulled her to her feet. She clutched my arm to steady herself, sending me a glare. “This is nothing for you to concern yourself with.”

“We can’t just leave him here, Giova

At her core, beneath the fire and fierceness, Isabella was a kind woman. She prayed every time she heard sirens, she loved Marzia as her own, she was always polite to the staff. I was not surprised she wanted to bury the corpse she had found, but this wasn’t our mess to deal with.

This belonged solely to Vincent and the future he was to embark on.

“This body belongs to Vincent,” I told her. “Not us.”

Realization struck her face immediately. “It’s Michele?” She looked down like she could spot the traitorous lawyer. “Lucrezia’s Michele?”

“Lucrezia’s Michele,” I confirmed.

Isabella turned her gaze to Vincent. The look she sent him was frightening enough to peel the skin from his bones. If Vincent had been anything less than the underboss for the Vigliano mob, he would’ve shrunk and cowed. Instead, he looked away, working his jaw.

“Lucrezia loved him, and you killed him.” Isabella intended to say her piece. “Why? Jealously? Possessiveness?”

“He was a traitor,” Vincent said.

Both he and I knew Michele’s death had been a cocktail of all three. I remembered watching him kill Michele and being intrigued by the viciousness in which Vincent had killed him. There was a certain thrill to killing someone, the adrenaline was addictive if you weren’t careful and in our way of life, it often meant you earned money or drugs from your victim’s death.

Some kills were bloody, others cleaner. Vincent had never been psychotic with how he conducted himself, though he did enjoy inflicting some pain. But the day he had killed Michele…The coroner physically hadn’t been able to do an autopsy afterwards.

I looked at Isabella, taking in her dark angular features and everchanging frown. Would I kill Isabella’s ex-husband in such a way? It was highly likely. I had instructed Giusy to find everyone in Isabella’s graduating class to figure out who had taken her virginity. I would wait until Isabella told me, then I would consider my next course of action on the matter.

“Disgusting,” Isabella snapped. “Fucking disgusting. You let Lucrezia mourn all by herself, alone in that bloody apartment on his a

Vincent glanced at me then back to my wife. He was trying to gauge how he could react.

If he had any sense, he would keep his tone polite when speaking to Isabella. Underbosses were replaceable, even if I would miss him in my own way.

“This life is darker than you know,” he told her.

Isabella curled her lip. “Oh, trust me, Vincent, I’m fully aware how dark this life is. I also know how valuable secrets are.” Her eyes flickered to me, an unknown emotion dancing in her irises. “As well as threats.”

I arched a brow at her. She was referring to what I had said to her at our wedding. There was something going on in my wife’s brain, and I was incapable of understanding what. Sometimes I looked at Isabella and wondered if she had twice as many emotions as the rest of us, and often I thought my theory was correct.

Lately, however, she had been looking at me with a different emotion. Something deeper, something more forgiving but also fiercer.

I recognized it on her face because I, too, was begi

A warm summer breeze blew over the dock, tickling my cheeks.

“There will be no threats declared this evening,” I told them both, though I was mainly speaking to Vincent. “Vincent, this is your mess. Clean it up.”

“Yes, boss.” His gray eyes roamed over Isabella. “I will do, boss.”

Isabella

Water swirled around me, pulling and pushing. I moved with the currents, my lungs bursting in pain. I already knew where I was, what was going to happen, but still panic clawed at my throat as I tried to gasp for air and drag myself to the surface–

“Daddy! Izzy!”

Marzia’s voice woke me immediately. Darkness soaked the room, inky and dark, but my eyes adjusted quickly. I felt Giova