Ruthless Royalty, page 21
The words hit me like a slap, and I feel the tears spill over, but I refuse to let him see me break.
“Get out,” I say, my voice trembling with emotion. “Just get the fuck out.”
Giovanni’s expression twists and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to say something, something that might change everything. But then, just as quickly, he shuts down, the walls slamming back into place.
“Fine,” he says, his tone as cold as ice. “If you can’t figure out what you want, then maybe we’re wasting our time.”
The words hang in the air, a final, bitter blow that leaves me reeling. I open my mouth to respond, to say something, anything, but the words won’t come. Instead, I just stand frozen as Giovanni turns and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him with a force that rattles the walls.
Maybe we’re wasting our time.
Is that really how he feels? Or was he just lashing out, trying to hurt me because I hurt him first? I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.
The tears I’ve been holding back finally spill over, and I collapse onto the bed, burying my face in my hands as the sobs wrack my body.
How did it come to this? How did everything get so fucked up so quickly? One minute, we were planning for Winter Break, talking about our future, and now… now I don’t even know where we stand. I don’t know if I’ve just lost the one person who means everything to me.
I curl up on the bed, clutching the pendant around my neck, the one he gave me just days ago. It feels like a lifeline, a reminder that despite everything, there’s still something between us worth fighting for.
But I don’t know how to fight for it anymore.
Then you shouldn’t have chosen me.
His words turn over in my head, and I’m starting to wonder if he’s right.
CHIARA
When I wake up the next morning, the first thing I do is reach for my phone, hoping, praying, that there’s something from Giovanni. A text, a missed call, even a damn emoji—anything to show that last night didn’t break us completely. But as I unlock the screen, my heart sinks.
Nothing.
No messages, no calls. Just the empty, glowing screen staring back at me, reflecting the hollowness I feel inside. I drop the phone back onto the bed, the reality of it clear now.
He didn’t even bother.
I sit up slowly, the events of last night replaying in my mind on an endless loop. The fight, the harsh words, the look in Giovanni’s eyes when he walked out. I swallow hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat. I won’t cry again. I’m done crying over this.
But as I glance around the room, the emptiness settles over me. Giovanni’s absence is a physical thing, pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I keep hoping that any second now, my phone will buzz with a message from him, that he’ll say something to fix this, to take back the things he said. To take back what I said.
But the minutes tick by, and still … nothing.
I drag myself out of bed, going through the motions of getting dressed, packing the last of my things for the trip home. Everything feels numb, like I’m moving underwater, each action slow and deliberate, like it takes all my energy just to function.
By the time I’m ready to leave, I feel like a shell of myself, the energy it took to keep going draining whatever was left of me. I grab my bags and step out into the living room, finding Nikolai already there.
He looks up as I enter, his gaze sharp and assessing, but he doesn’t say anything. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah, I am.”
He nods, picking up his own bag and heading for the door. “Let’s get going then. The jet’s waiting.”
As soon as we step outside, my eyes immediately go to Giovanni’s Suite… then my heart lurches painfully in my chest when I see the empty parking spot where Giovanni’s SUV should be.
He’s gone. He didn’t even wait to say goodbye.
I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it’s no use. The hurt is there, raw and aching, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Giovanni left without a word, without giving us a chance to fix things.
I try to tell myself that it doesn’t matter, that I don’t care, that I don’t need him to validate my feelings. But it’s no use. The pain is there, and there’s nothing I can do to make it go away.
Nikolai watches me for a moment, his expression giving nothing away, but I can tell he knows what I’m thinking. He always knows. He’s always been able to read me like a book, no matter how hard I try to hide it.
“You alright?” he asks, his voice soft, almost cautious.
I nod quickly, not trusting myself to speak. I don’t want to break down in front of him, not now, not when I’m already feeling so weak. I don’t want him to see just how much this hurts.
“Yeah,” I manage to say, my voice sounding more stable than I feel. “Let’s just get out of here.”
Nikolai doesn’t push, doesn’t ask any more questions. He just nods and starts walking toward the car. I follow him, my heart feeling heavier with each step I take.
The ride to the private airstrip is quiet, the tension between us palpable. Nikolai doesn’t try to engage me in conversation, and I’m grateful for that. I’m not in the mood to talk, not in the mood to pretend everything is okay. I stare out the window, watching the familiar scenery pass by, the campus disappearing behind us as we head for the private airstrip.
When we finally arrive, the jet is waiting, sleek and ready to take us home. Nikolai grabs our bags and hands them off to the attendant before leading me onto the plane. I sink into one of the plush seats, staring out the window as the engines hum to life.
The silence between us stretches on, the only sound is the low hum of the plane and the faint rustle of Nikolai settling in across from me. I know he’s watching me, waiting for me to say something, but I can’t. I don’t have the words, and even if I did, I wouldn’t know where to start.
Eventually, Nikolai speaks, his voice quiet, careful. “You know you can talk to me, right?”
I shake my head, still staring out the window. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Bullshit,” he says, a little sharper this time. “The entire Suite heard your fight last night.”
I don’t respond, biting my lip to keep from saying something I’ll regret. I know he’s just trying to help, trying to be there for me like he always is, but right now, I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to open that wound.
“Chiara?” he presses, his voice softer now, more gentle.
I close my eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Can we just not? Please, Nikolai.”
He’s silent for a moment, and I can feel him weighing his next words carefully. Finally, he nods, leaning back in his seat.
“Alright. But you know I’m here if you need to talk, right?”
I nod, swallowing down my tears. “I know. Thanks.”
We lapse back into silence, and for the rest of the flight, neither of us speaks. I’m too lost in my own thoughts, too wrapped up in the pain and confusion swirling inside me. I can’t stop thinking about how he left without a word, how he didn’t even bother to say goodbye.
But as much as it hurts, I won’t take back what I said. I can’t. Marriage isn’t the answer, not for us, not now. Maybe not ever. I won’t be forced into something I’m not ready for, something that feels more like a trap than a promise.
Giovanni doesn’t understand that, and maybe he never will. But I have to stay true to myself, even if it means losing him. Even if it means this pain I’m feeling now.
Later when the plane touches down, Nikolai waits for me to gather my things before we head out. He still doesn’t say much, just keeps close by, a steady presence that I’m grateful for, even if I can’t bring myself to tell him.
As we step outside, the car waiting for us pulls up, and Nikolai opens the door for me without a word. I slide into the backseat, staring blankly out the window as the driver takes us to our destination. The city passes by in a blur, and I barely notice the familiar sights, too lost in my own head to care.
When we finally pull up to the estate, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what’s to come. My mother will be expecting me to be happy, to be excited about being home, but I don’t know if I have it in me to put on that mask.
Nikolai must sense my hesitation because he stops before opening the car door and turns to me, his expression softening. “You don’t have to pretend, Chiara. Not with me.”
I look at him, and for the first time since we left Willow Bridge, I feel a crack in the wall I’ve been trying so hard to keep up. The tears I’ve been holding back threaten to spill over, but I bite them back, refusing to let them fall.
“I’m just so tired,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I’m tired of all of this.”
He reaches out and squeezes my hand, his touch grounding me. “Will you be okay?”
I meet his gaze, trying to muster up some kind of reassurance, but the words catch in my throat. “I will be,” I say instead, the only thing I can offer him.
He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push it. Instead, he just nods and starts walking toward the house, his footsteps slow, like he’s giving me time to catch up.
I know that I need to talk to Giovanni, that we need to find a way to fix this, but right now, the thought of facing him again feels like too much.
So I push it all down, burying the hurt and confusion deep inside, and focus on the one thing I can control—surviving today. One step at a time, one breath at a time, until I can figure out what to do next.
CHIARA
The house feels colder than usual, the familiar warmth replaced by an uncomfortable tension that seeps into every corner. I’ve been quiet since Nikolai and I arrived, my mind still reeling from everything that’s happened. The fight with Giovanni, the emptiness of the morning, and now, being back here, in this house that doesn’t quite feel like home.
Dinner is a strained affair. The long table feels even longer tonight, the distance between me and everyone else a physical manifestation of how isolated I feel.
My mother tries to engage me in conversation, her voice soft and worried, but I can’t bring myself to respond with more than monosyllabic answers. She doesn’t push, but I can see the concern in her eyes, the way she glances at me like she’s trying to figure out what’s wrong but doesn’t know how to ask.
I can’t blame her. She’s been trying so hard to reconnect with me since I got back from my gap year, but there’s a chasm between us that neither of us knows how to bridge.
And Dmitri … he’s a presence more than anything else, a man who stepped into my life while I was gone and took over without my mother having so much as a conversation with me. I barely know him, and yet here I am, living in his house, part of his world; a world I’m still trying to understand.
I push my food around, not really eating, my mind too distracted to focus on anything else. The pendant around my neck feels heavier than ever, a constant reminder of Giovanni, of the fight, of the decision I made.
“Chiara, sweetheart,” my mother’s voice breaks through my thoughts, her tone gentle but filled with worry. “Are you feeling alright? You’ve barely touched your food.”
I force a smile, but it feels hollow even to me. “I’m fine, Mom. Just … tired from the trip.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t press further, and for that, I’m grateful. The last thing I need right now is to explain what’s really going on, especially when I’m not even sure I understand it myself.
Dmitri, who has been silent for most of the meal, finally speaks up, his voice calm but commanding. “Chiara, I’d like to speak with you in my study after dinner.”
My heart sinks at his words, but I nod, not trusting myself to speak. There’s a firmness in his tone that leaves no room for argument, and I know that whatever he has to say, it’s not going to be a pleasant conversation.
The rest of the meal passes in a blur, my anxiety mounting with each passing minute. When we finally finish, I excuse myself from the table and head to Dmitri’s study after he leaves, my stomach churning with unease. I’ve been dreading this conversation since the moment Giovanni mentioned the marriage, and now that it’s here, I don’t know if I’m ready for it.
I knock on the door, my knuckles rapping lightly against the wood. There’s a brief pause before his deep voice calls out, “Come in.”
I push the door open and step inside, the room dimly lit by the warm glow of the desk lamp. Dmitri is seated behind his large mahogany desk, his hands folded neatly in front of him. He looks up as I enter, his expression stern but not unkind. It’s a look that tells me he means business, and I’m already bracing myself for what’s to come.
“Sit down, Chiara,” he says, gesturing to the chair across from him.
I obey, lowering myself into the chair, my hands clenched tightly in my lap. The silence stretches out between us, heavy and oppressive, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, the tension almost unbearable.
He studies me for a moment, his gaze sharp and assessing. When he finally speaks, his voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it that sends a shiver down my spine.
“Giovanni spoke to me about your refusal to marry him.”
I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “Okay…”
“And why did you refuse?” His tone is calm, almost too calm, and it only heightens my anxiety.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “Because I don’t think marriage is the answer. We’re not ready for something like that, and I don’t want to be forced into a decision like this just because of the situation we’re in.”
Dmitri’s eyes narrow slightly, his expression unreadable. “You don’t want to be forced into a decision. But do you understand the situation you’re in, Chiara? Truly understand it?”
I hesitate. “I understand that things are dangerous, that there are people who could … who could hurt me because of who I’m with. But marriage—”
“Marriage is not just about love or readiness in our world,” Dmitri cuts in, his voice firm. “It’s about alliances, protection, and power. By refusing Giovanni’s proposal, you’re not just rejecting him—you’re rejecting the safety and protection that comes with being his wife. You’re putting yourself in danger, Chiara. A danger you don’t seem to fully comprehend.”
His words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I can feel the panic rising in my chest. “I’m not trying to put myself in danger. I just don’t think getting married is the solution to everything.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Dmitri says, his tone growing more intense. “It’s about the reality of the world you’ve now chosen to be a part of. This is not some fairy tale where you can ignore the dangers and live happily ever after. You are in the Mafia now, whether you like it or not, and that comes with certain risks—risks that you need to start taking seriously.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Dmitri holds up a hand, stopping me. “I know you didn’t choose this life initially and I know you’re still trying to find your place in it. But you need to stop thinking like a child and start understanding what’s at stake here. You’re not just Chiara anymore—you’re Giovanni Basile’s girlfriend as well as my step-daughter, and that makes you a target.”
His words cut deep, and I can feel the sting of tears in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
“I’m not a child,” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “I know what I’m involved in. I know it’s dangerous, but marriage isn’t the only way to protect me.”
Dmitri’s expression softens slightly, but his tone remains firm. “You’re right—marriage isn’t the only way. But it’s one of the strongest forms of protection you can have in our world. It’s a declaration to everyone that you are untouchable, that you are under Giovanni’s protection, and that anyone who dares to harm you will face the full wrath of the Basile name.”
I shake my head, the tears threatening to spill over. “I don’t want to be seen as some … some possession, some trophy that needs to be guarded.”
“You’re not a possession,” Dmitri says, his voice gentler now. “But you are a person who has made a choice to be with someone powerful, and with that choice comes responsibility. It’s not just about you anymore, Printsessa. It’s about the people who care about you, who want to keep you safe. Giovanni is one of those people, and his offer to marry you is not just about power—it’s about his desire to protect you. A proposal from a future Capo dei Capi isn’t child’s play, Chiara.”
I look away, unable to meet his gaze as the tears start to fall. “But what about what I want? What about my choice in all of this?”
“Your choice is important,” Dmitri says, his tone softening further. “But you need to understand that in this world, choices are not always as simple as they seem. Sometimes, we have to make sacrifices, to do things we don’t want to do. You need to understand that.”
I bite my lip, trying to hold back the frustration that’s bubbling up inside me. “I understand more than you think.”
“Do you?” Dmitri’s gaze hardens, and there’s a coldness in his eyes that sends a chill down my spine. “ Chiara. Do you understand what that means? Do you understand that there are people out there who would take you, assault you, even kill you, just to prove a point? Just to get to Giovanni?”
His words squeeze my heart painfully and for a moment, I can’t breathe. I’ve always known, on some level, that being with Giovanni was dangerous, that it came with risks. But hearing it laid out so bluntly, so starkly, makes it all too real.
I shake my head, feeling the frustration building up again. “Dmitri—”
“You’ve chosen to be with a Mafia heir, and now you have to accept what that means. You have to start thinking like someone who understands the world they’re in. The one they didn’t choose initially, but ended up choosing willingly.”
