Page 35 of Crimson Fate
Marco lets out a breath, the hint of a sigh, and meets my gaze squarely. “I’d never keep anything from you that would matter. My concern is for your well-being, nothing else. If Gia’s what you want, that’s what matters.”
“Is it?” I push back. “Because it seems like everyone has an opinion on my personal life these days, including you.”
“Hey.” Marco steps forward, his presence grounding. “You’re the boss now. Your decisions shape our world, and what you decide is what’s always best. That’s one thing your dad always taught me.”
“Exactly.” I slice my hand through the air. “I honestly never spent much time thinking about getting married or having a family, but if I’m going to do it, Gia seems like the perfect fit. Have you ever thought about it, Marco? Settling down with someone?”
From behind me, Marco’s footsteps approach. “Depends on which night you’re asking,” he quips, and I can almost hear the smirk in his voice.
“Ha.” I pivot to face him, the corner of my mouth lifting despite the gravity of earlier conversations. “That much of a revolving door, huh?”
“Something like that.” Marco leans against the wall, arms folded across his chest, the playfulness fading from his features. “But none of them are Gia.”
“Clearly,” I say, the image of Gia’s fierce eyes and the curve of her lips flashing through my mind.
The tension in Marco’s frame is something I can almost taste, metallic and sharp, as if he’s a coiled spring ready to snap. My gut twists with instinct. “Look, if you think it’s best for you to stay here, do it,” I grunt, my voice laced with the gravel of command. “I trust you. But we need someone solid to fill in for you.”
Marco’s eyebrow arches, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken compliment. “I’ve already thought about it. Nico’s your guy.”
I let out a sigh, my chest tightening at the thought of Nico’s silent shadow trailing us all weekend. “I know he and you are close, but that guy gives me the creeps sometimes. The guy barely ever says a fucking word.”
Marco chuckles. “He takes a little warming up to, but I wouldn’t trust anybody more with this.”
“Okay, make it happen,” I agree, shaking my head.
Marco pulls his phone up, texting someone who I assume to be Nico. We review the itinerary for the next few minutes, ensuring every angle is covered.
Marco glances at his phone. “Okay, Nico’s going to bring the car around.”
Marco bends down, lifting my luggage with a fluidity that belies the weight of its contents.
“Hey, I’m not so old I can’t carry my own bag,” I quip, a half-hearted attempt to slice through the sudden gravity between us.
“You need people to see you’re in charge. Carrying your bag is not about age or strength; it’s about respect.”
“Ah, always looking out for me,” I say, a genuine smile pulling at my lips. As much as the idea of it makes me slightly uncomfortable, Marco is right. If I want respect, I need to expect it in every facet of my life.
Marco smiles and steps into the elevator. On the ride, Marco assures me everything will remain business as usual in my short absence.
We exit and cross the lobby. Stepping out into the cool embrace of the evening, I can feel the city’s pulse beneath my feet. My excitement for the weekend ahead and the promises it holds start to build in me again. Nico stands by the open car door.
I turn to face my cousin. “When I get back, we need to sit down. I want to discuss your future.”
Marco meets my eyes with a glint of anticipation. “I’m ready for whatever you need, boss. You know that.”
He hauls my bag and places it into the open trunk before moving around to greet Nico. “Thanks for this,” he offers.
Nico simply nods in response.
“Make sure you keep your eyes open,” Marco says to him, his hand resting on the shoulder of the silent enforcer. “Vincent and Gia are your top priority. No matter what happens, you keep them safe, got it?”
“I promise I won’t let anything happen to them,” Nico mutters.
Marco reaches out for an embrace with the man, and Nico’s arms tighten around him for a fraction of a second before letting go, a silent promise exchanged between soldiers. I’m a little surprised by their obvious closeness. I have always considered Marco one of my closest relationships, but it’s evident he has other deep relationships I’m unaware of. I shouldn’t be surprised. As I got older, my father kept me closer to his inner circle, while Marco was more of a grunt soldier. He’s probably lived a completely separate life from me on the streets, in the trenches.
“Let’s go,” I command, breaking the moment. I watch Marco step back, and Nico pulls the door open, gesturing for me to get inside.
“Take care of things here, Marco,” I say, sliding onto the leather seat. It embraces me like the throne I never asked for but was born to occupy.