DRAMA DRAMA DRAMA
1532 Words
Fiona finally spoke.
“So when did you change your mind?”
Gio blinked.
“What?”
She turned, eyes sharper now.
“Was it last week? Last month? Or was it tonight—when I walked down the stairs and happened to wear a dress that caught your eye?”
“Because from what I saw, and what the whole damn world saw... you were always with her. Viola. At every public event. Every business gala. Red carpets. Always her.”
Her voice cracked with pain and pride laced together.
“I’ve seen the pictures, Giovannie. Smiling beside her. Holding her hand. Her in your car. Her beside you at the table. Her wearing your ring in those gossip blogs.”
Gio looked away, jaw clenched.
“Those were appearances. Strategic placements. Nothing more.”
“Then why didn’t you correct them?” she asked, stepping closer.
“Why let the whole world think she was yours?”
“Because it was easier than explaining the truth—that It was all a staged drama I wasn’t even sure about this engagement proposal bond until you came back Fiona.”
She blinked.
“Me?”
He stepped forward now, closing the gap between them.
Viola had already built this… image. This narrative that we were something.”
“She’s been beside me, yes. But I never chose her.”
Fiona didn’t back away, even as he stepped closer still.
“And now, suddenly, I’m the one you want to marry? Love doesn’t switch like that, Giovannie.”
Gio’s eyes darkened, emotions brimming.
“This isn’t a switch, Fiona. It’s an awakening.”
He paused, voice softer but deep with desire.
“You walked in, and my blood remembered. My skin ached just looking at you. Every curve, every glance, the way you tilt your head when you’re curious… It’s been carved into me since we were children. Viola never stirred that in me. Not even once.”
His voice dropped lower.
“But you? You ruin me just by breathing near me.”
There was silence. A storm brewing in the distance and between them.
Fiona stepped back just slightly.
“And what do you want from me now?”
Gio’s eyes locked with hers.
“Everything. Not just your name beside mine… but your laugh. Your anger. Your trust. Your body. Your heart.”
“But only if you give it willingly. I’ll never take what’s not mine… but Fiona, you were always mine. Even before you knew it.”
Fiona stood frozen, her chest rising and falling with the weight of everything Gio had just said.
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears — not of joy, but confusion. The air between them was thick, too thick to breathe.
Gio gently reached for her hand, brushing his lips near her knuckles, his voice almost a whisper.
“Even if your mind doesn’t know what to do… your soul does. It remembers me.”
The touch made her flinch — not from disgust, but from the betrayal of how right it felt.
She slowly pulled her hand away.
“This isn’t fair,” she whispered, almost to herself. To Viola. To me. To anyone.”
Gio opened his mouth to respond, but no words came.
Fiona took one shaky breath and looked up at him, eyes conflicted, vulnerable.
“I’m not ready… and I’m not even sure if this is real — or just another chapter in this twisted game we were born into.”
She took a step back. Her heels echoed against the marble.
“You say you remember me, without even knowing my existence, Giovannie. But I’m still remembering myself.”
And with that, Fiona turned and walked away.
Gio stood frozen, her scent still lingering in the air, the ghost of her touch still warming his lips.
He didn’t chase her.
Not yet.
But he watched her walk away.
Gio stepped out into the softly lit corridor, still dazed by Fiona’s words. The distant clink of cutlery and faint murmurs from the dining hall echoed behind him, but his mind was trapped at the moment he had just lost.
He loosened his collar, his jaw tight, as if trying to keep his emotions from spilling over.
That’s when he heard it — sharp heels clicking slowly behind him.
“Giovannie,”
The voice was unmistakable. Mrs. Corsican. Calm, composed, but laced with an undertone of calculation.
He turned, straightening his spine.
She walked toward him, every inch the intimidating matriarch she was. Her eyes scanned him like a seasoned strategist reading enemy movements.
“Is there something you’d like to confess?” she asked, folding her arms.
Before he could answer, Max appeared from the adjoining hallway, casually sipping from a crystal glass, but his stare was cold.
“Talking to Fiona alone, huh?” Max said, stopping beside his mother. “That wasn’t part of the plan, was it?”
Gio raised his chin, keeping his composure.
“There was no plan I agreed to. No one gets to decide who I speak to.”
Mrs. Corsican stepped forward, her voice now a velvet threat.
“Let me remind you, Giovannie… this arrangement, this alliance — it wasn’t built on impulses or feelings. We built this with bloodlines and strategy.”
“Then maybe your strategy was flawed,” Gio snapped, eyes burning. “Because you forgot to ask what the heir wanted.”
Max’s smirk twisted.
“The heir? You mean Viola? Or Fiona? Even you look confused.”
“I’m not,” Gio replied tightly. “But it seems you are… threatened.”
The air snapped.
Mrs. Corsican’s eyes darkened. “You may have inherited your father’s name, but don’t mistake that for power. You’re still bound by what we decide. Your family agreed.” I know that Fiona, my granddaughter, is the heir of the Salvatore and Corcican mafia.
even I don't have the power to cancel this marriage, so, give some time to let time pass. Gio stared at both of them, the weight of centuries-old family politics pressing against his chest.
“I’m not afraid of either of you,” he finally said, voice low. “And I won’t let either of you turn anyone into a pawn.”
He brushed past them.Mrs. Corsican didn’t stop him.
She just stared after him with a knowing smile
Salvatore Study – Late Night
The towering mahogany doors of the Salvatore study stood slightly ajar. Inside, the room was dim, lit only by a single desk lamp that cast a golden glow over shelves of aged books, vintage cigars, and antique weapons mounted on the wall.
Giovannie entered slowly. Mr. Salvatore was already there, seated behind the desk — a half-empty glass of aged whiskey in his hand.
He didn’t look up immediately. Only after a long, deliberate sip did he speak.
“Close the door, Gio.”
The click of the door sounded final, like the beginning of something serious.
Gio stepped forward, cautious.
“You asked for me?”
Mr. Salvatore set the glass down, his eyes finally meeting Gio’s. They were sharp. Calculated. But also tired — like a man caught between legacy and love.
“I watched what happened at dinner,” he began, his voice low, steady. “You humiliated my daughter.”
“That wasn’t my intention,” Gio said immediately, standing his ground. “But I also won’t let this family push me into a marriage I didn’t choose.”
“You think I’m blind to what’s going on between you and Fiona?”
Gio stiffened.
“It’s not what you think. Fiona—she never expected anything. She doesn’t even know what to feel yet. But I—”
“You love her?”
Silence.
“...Yes.”
Mr. Salvatore leaned back, sighing. The room suddenly felt heavier.
“You don’t know what it cost me to bring her back,” he said quietly. “The enemies we silenced. The family secrets we buried. She was taken from us for a reason.”
“And now you want to keep pretending Viola is the heir,” Gio said, stepping forward, tone tinged with frustration. “You know the truth. Everyone does now. But you’re still trying to walk both lines.”
Mr. Salvatore’s expression darkened.
“Viola has been trained since she could walk. She’s ruthless, obedient, and loyal to this name.”
“She’s also unfit to rule with her obsession,” Gio muttered.
The air grew still.Mr. Salvatore stood slowly, walking over to the tall window, hands clasped behind his back.
“I called you here not to debate your feelings, but to warn you. Viola is no fool. If she senses Fiona is being put ahead of her — especially by you — she will burn this entire house down.”“Then maybe she should know the engagement is off.”
Mr. Salvatore turned sharply.
“You’re not the one to call it off, Giovannie.”
Gio stepped closer, anger now visible in the lines of his jaw.
OMG GIO IS ANGER IS VISIBLE WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN NEXT????????????
- Writer
