Beneath the Mistletoe

Chapter3

~Antonio

I took a long sip of my whiskey, savoring the burn as it slid down my throat. It had been a hell of a day, and I needed a drink to unwind.

"You'll never believe what happened to me 4 days ago, during my cruise tour in LA," I said, turning to my twin brother, Giovanni. Giovanni seemed restless, his eyes darting around the room as he nursed his beer.

"So," I said, turning to my brother. "This beautiful girl and I had an unexpected kiss under the mistletoe. It was something straight out of a fairy tale."

Giovanni gave me a dismissive shrug. "Sure, sure. Sounds like a bunch of romantic claptrap if you ask me." He glanced around the room again, his eyes never settling in one place.

I frowned.

"What's going on with you?" I asked, concern coloring my voice. "You seem jumpier than usual. You're not usually this antsy."

Giovanni gave me a tight-lipped smile. "Nothing. I'm fine. Just trying to relax and enjoy my drink, that's all." He took a long sip of his beer, his eyes never leaving the bar.

"You sure there's nothing you want to talk about?" I pressed. "Something going on with business maybe? Or maybe a girl you haven't told me about?"

"I'm fine, really," Giovanni insisted, his voice strained. "I just need to stretch my legs for a minute. You stay here, finish your drink. I'll be back in a sec."

He slid off his barstool, his eyes fixed on a point across the room. I watched him weave through the crowd, but couldn't see what—or who—had caught his attention.

"Don't take much time," I called after him, but he was already lost in the sea of people.

I tapped my fingers impatiently on the bar, checking my watch for what felt like the thousandth time. Where the hell was Giovanni? I'd been waiting for him for almost an hour.

The bar was starting to thin out, but there was no sign of my brother. I flagged down the bartender for another drink, trying to dull the frustration building inside me.

"Hey, another scotch, thanks," I slurred, my words already starting to slur.

The bartender glanced at me, a worried look on his face.

"You sure you're okay to drive?" the bartender asked, setting the scotch on the bar. "Maybe you should call a cab or something, man."

I laughed, tossing back the scotch like it was water. "Nah, I'm good," I said, my words coming out even more slurred. "Just need to get home. My brother ditched me, but that's nothing new."

"Dude, you sure you want to drive in this state?" the bartender persisted. "You look like you've had one too many already."

"I'll be fine," I insisted, wobbling slightly as I stood up from the barstool. "I've got my own way of getting home. It's just a couple of blocks, no big deal."

The bartender shook his head, clearly unconvinced. "Listen, man, I can call you a cab if you want. It's not worth risking it."

"I appreciate the offer," I said, waving him off, "but I'll be fine. I know my limits."

I made my way through the bar, bumping into tables and stools as I went. The door seemed to sway in front of me, like it was taunting me, mocking my lack of coordination.

Finally, I made it outside, the cold night air hitting me like a slap in the face. I fumbled with my keys, cursing under my breath as I tried to find the right one.

As I stumbled toward my car, I heard a loud click behind me. Instinctively, I turned, my blurry vision struggling to make sense of what I saw.

I squinted into the shadows, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. There were two figures, one with a gun pointed at the other.

"Giovanni?" I whispered, my voice hoarse with fear. I stumbled forward, trying to get a better look. "Giovanni, is that you?"

The figure with the gun turned to look at me, and I gasped. It was my brother, but his face was cold and hard, like someone I didn't even know.

"Antonio," he said, his voice low and menacing.

"Antonio, you need to go home," Giovanni said, his voice ice cold. "You're drunk, and you don't want to be a part of this."

I stared at him, my mind racing to understand what was happening. "Giovanni, what's going on? Who's that guy?" I asked, gesturing toward the other figure.

"None of your business," Giovanni snapped, his grip tightening on the gun. "Now go home before I make you."

I shook my head, refusing to back down.

"No, Giovanni, I'm not leaving you," I said, my voice rising in desperation. "What the hell is going on? Who is that guy?"

Giovanni's eyes flashed with anger, and he leveled the gun at me. "I said go home!" he growled, his voice like a low, dangerous rumble.

I took a step forward, my own anger starting to boil over. "Not until you tell me what the hell is going on!" I shouted, the alcohol giving me an almost reckless sense of bravado.

The other man took the opportunity to bolt, fleeing into the darkness. Giovanni fired a shot, missing by inches.

"Damn it!" he cursed, his eyes blazing with frustration. "I had him. I almost had him."

He turned to me, his face contorted with fury. "You just had to come along and ruin everything," he snarled, reaching into my pocket and snatching my car keys. "Get in the car, we're going home."

We drove in silence, the tension between us as thick as the fog outside.

Finally, Giovanni spoke.

"You have no idea what you've done," Giovanni said, his voice shaking with anger. "That man, he's not going to just forget about this. His boss will send his men to come after me and wipe out everything I hold dear."

I felt like I was in a nightmare. "What do you mean? What did I do?" I asked, trying to make sense of it all.

"You ruined my opportunity to take care of this situation," Giovanni snapped, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel.

As soon as we stepped into the house, Giovanni rushed to his room, slamming the door behind him. I could hear him rummaging around inside, packing his things.

"Where do you think you're going?" I demanded, following him up the stairs. "You're getting married in two days, Giovanni. You can't just run off like this."

He ignored me, shoving a suitcase full of clothes onto his bed. "I don't have a choice," he said, his voice tight. "I need to have this sorted out as fast as I can, before that man comes for me, or rather, us."

Giovanni turned to me, his expression intense and serious. "Antonio, I need you to do something for me. Something important."

"What is it?" I asked, my heart thumping in my chest.

"I need you to take my place at the wedding," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Just for a week, until I can sort this issue out.

"You have to dress like me, answer to my name. I know it's not fair to ask this of you, but I need you to do it. Please, Antonio."

Giovanni turned to face me, his expression deadly serious. "You have to do this, Antoni. For me. For my political ambition next year, I must get married on Saturday, and I can't do that knowing our lives could be at stake."

"Are you kidding me?" I demanded, my voice rising in anger. "Dress like you, answer to your name? Do you have any idea how dangerous that could be? If that man comes looking for you, I'll be in danger too!"

He shook his head, his gaze unwavering. "I know it's not fair to ask this of you, but I need you to do it. "Just for one week, I'm begging you. I have to meet with their boss in Italy. If I don't go, the consequences will be catastrophic. Our lives, our parents' lives - everything will be at risk. Please, just give me this one week."

I shook my head, unable to believe what he was asking of me. "Giovanni, I don't know if I can—"

He cut me off with a firm, brotherly kiss on the forehead. "I love you, Antonio. Please, do this for me. I promise, everything will be okay."

Then he was gone, striding out the door and into the night.

A few moments later, the front door creaked open again. Giovanni stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the night.

"One more thing," he

said, his voice cold and hard. "Don't touch my wife. Not even on your wedding night. She belongs to me, not you.