Page 35 of The Godfather’s Christmas Twins
"Fine.” She gives me a pat on the cheek and heads out. I suppose I should be glad that she’s not weeping. That she’s as strong as she says. I shut the door behind her and call Marcus to make sure she’s never let in again.
I stride down the hall, finding Gia in the kids' playroom, finishing up fast food burgers. The sight of them safe and happy does nothing to quell the fear that's been churning in my gut since I got the call that they’d gone out.
"We need to talk." My voice comes out harder than intended.
The kids look up at me wide-eyed while Gia purses her lips.
“Are you mad?” Dario asks.
“No.”
“You sound mad,” Daniella says.
I muster a smile. “I’m not mad at you?—”
“You’re mad at Mommy?” Dario’s eyes narrow, and I can see him getting ready to defend her.
“Everything is fine.” Gia rises from the little table. “Finish your dinner while I talk to Uncle Max.”
Uncle Max. Fuck. That’s as bad as my being her godfather.
Gia steps out of the room into the hall, lifting her chin in that defiant way I both admire and dread.
"What were you thinking, going out without telling me? You know the danger you're in."
She laughs. “Oh, so that’s the big, pressing issue.” She shakes her head. "The kids needed fresh air. They're going stir-crazy cooped up in here."
"Then you come to me. We arrange proper security, plan routes, check locations." I step closer, the memory of her mother going out one day and never coming back filtering through my mind. "You don't just walk out with a couple of guards and hope for the best."
"A couple?" She scoffs. "Your entire security team surrounded us like the Secret Service. We couldn't have been safer if we tried."
"That's not the point." My fist clenches at my side. "Someone's targeting you, Gia. Someone who knows your movements, your habits. One slip-up is all it takes."
She’s not backing down. “First, there’s no indication they know I’m here. Second, we can’t live like this. They need to run?—”
“I’ve got a pool and a large back yard,” I clip out.
“And they’ve made use of it. But they’re bored. They want to swing and climb, and… The point is, we all still need to live. We can’t hide away. They deserve better than that."
"They deserve to be alive." The words come out sharp, cutting. "And it's my job to make sure they stay that way."
"Your job." She repeats the words like they taste bitter. "Right. How could I forget?"
I realize my mistake. We’re back to her accusing me of just seeing her as a job. But I can't back down, not when it comes to their safety. "Next time, you clear it with me first. No exceptions."
Gia's eyes flash with that familiar stubborn fire. Even when I want to shake sense into her, I can't help but admire how she stands her ground.
"We were perfectly safe." She crosses her arms. "Your men are good at their jobs. They wouldn't have let us go if there were any real risk."
"That's not the point?—”
“Then what is the point?" She steps closer, close enough that I catch the faint scent of her perfume. "That I need your permission? That I can't make decisions about my children's well-being?"
Whitley’s accusations of Gia not having any freedom in her life are still fresh in my mind, and guilt grows. I fight against it.
"The point is that someone out there wants to hurt you, and you act like it's nothing."
"I'm not acting like it's nothing. I’m not stupid, Max. I took precautions. We were safe, and more importantly, the kids needed this. You didn't see how their faces lit up at the park, how much joy they got from just being normal for an afternoon."