CHAPTER 3: SOURED PARTY

GIOVANNI'S POV

The bass throbbed through my chest, each beat a dull echo of the dread building inside me. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration, my last hurrah before I traded my freedom for a strategic alliance. My bachelor party. Surrounded by the gaudy excess of the VIP section, overlooking the sweating masses on the dance floor, I felt anything but celebratory.

Sergei, ever the jovial idiot, clapped me on the shoulder. "Last night of freedom, Giovanni! After tomorrow, you're officially a Conti man. You'll be eating pasta and speaking Italian before you know it!"

Alexei, leaning back on the plush velvet couch, smirked. "No more late nights with anonymous blondes, eh, Gio? You'll be singing a different tune when Julianna has you chained to the bed."

My father, Viktor, his face flushed with drink and anticipation, raised his glass. "I'm proud of you, son. Finally, you've listened to reason. A marriage to the Conti family... it's the best thing for us."

I cut him off, the words sharp and laced with a simmering anger. "Don't flatter yourself, Father. I didn't do this for you. I did it for the partnership. Conti's distribution network is the key to expanding our influence. This is purely business."

Alexei raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Pure business? You and Julianna have been seeing each other for three months. No feelings developed? Not even a little?"

Sergei chimed in, "Yeah, Gio. You've been spending a lot of time with the woman. You can't tell me you haven't fallen at least a little bit under her spell."

I shrugged, taking a long swallow of my vodka. "A mafia boss can't afford to fall in love. Love is a weakness, a vulnerability. I enjoy Julianna's company, she's intelligent and ambitious. But feelings? No. There are none."

"So," Alexei drawled, a playful glint in his eyes, "how many times have you two been...acquainted in bed, then?"

I didn't hesitate. "Every weekday for the past three months. Often until the early hours."

Sergei whistled, shaking his head in mock admiration. "You're a machine, Giovanni! A goddamn machine!"

Alexei's smirk widened. "Weekdays only, though? Where does Julianna disappear to on weekends? Visiting family? Clandestine rendezvous?"

I frowned. I hadn't actually considered it. Julianna was always available during the week, always eager to meet. But weekends… nothing. "She goes home to her family," I said, the explanation feeling flimsy even to my own ears.

The night continued, fueled by expensive alcohol and the pounding rhythm of the music. My gaze drifted to Dmitri, my right-hand man, who stood quietly by the wall, a dark shadow in the vibrant scene. He hadn't said a word since we arrived.

"Dmitri," I said, my voice cutting through the noise, "why so silent? Aren't you going to join the fun?"

He inclined his head respectfully. "It is not my place, Giovanni. I am here to ensure your safety."

"Don't be ridiculous. You're more than just my right-hand. You're family."

Viktor, ever the dramatic one, clapped Dmitri on the back. "He's right! I practically see you as my third son, Dmitri. Maybe I should marry you off to Anastasia. Then you would "officially" be family!"

My blood ran cold. "Stay away from Anastasia, Father. She doesn't need your 'guidance' in her life. Don't you dare control her life like you tried on mine."

Fucking no! I wouldn't let my younger sister tangle into this intricate mess of loveless marriage.

"I'm her father, Giovanni! I have a right to decide what's best for her."

"And I'll be the Pakhan after tomorrow," I reminded him, the words dripping with resentment. "So, eventually, I'll overrule you."

Viktor just scoffed, shaking his head. "You'll always be my son, Giovanni. Don't forget that."

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Sensing the shift, Alexei and Sergei clapped their hands, signaling to someone outside. The door swung open, and a gaggle of women, dressed in barely-there outfits, flooded the room, their perfume suffocating. They draped themselves over us, their hands reaching.

Dmitri stepped back, his face impassive. "I will take some air," he said, and walked away, disappearing into the throng of people outside the VIP area.

"Conservative bastard," Alexei muttered, watching him go. "Can't even handle a little harmless fun."

The dancers did their work, gyrating against us, offering lap dances with practiced ease. I growled when two of them approached my father, but Viktor just laughed, pulling them closer.

"Let the old man have his fun, Giovanni," he said, his eyes gleaming. "You need to move on, forget your mother's death and leave me be."

The words stung, as they always did. My mother had died eight years ago, after discovering my father's infidelity. She, a proud Russo heiress, couldn't bear the humiliation. Viktor, however, continued his philandering, flaunting his affairs with shameless abandon.

The women on either side of me began unbuttoning my shirt, their fingers teasing my chest. I let them, the alcohol numbing my senses. As one reached for my belt buckle, I stopped her. I stood up abruptly, pushing them away, the desire gone. The sound of moaning coming from the room where my father had disappeared with two of the dancers had killed any semblance of arousal.

I couldn't stand it anymore. I walked out of my own bachelor party, the bass vibrating in my ears. My mood had soured the moment my father, the eternal playboy, had dragged those women into that room. Eight years. Eight years since his actions had indirectly led to my mother's death. He's already in his early fifties. And still, he hadn't changed.

The club air was stale and thick with smoke. I needed to get out. I pushed past the clubgoers, feeling their resentment at being disrupted, and made my way to the exit. Where was Dmitri? I needed him to do something.

As I stepped out into the cool night air, I saw Dmitri leaning against my armored SUV, a cigarette burning between his fingers.

"Giovanni," he said, straightening up. "Everything alright?"

"No," I said, the word raw with anger and frustration. "Nothing is alright."

He didn't press, just waited, his silence offering a strange comfort.

"I need to know something, Dmitri," I said, my voice low. "I need you to find out what Julianna does on weekends. Everything. Every detail. I want to know where she goes, who she sees… everything."

Dmitri nodded, his eyes unwavering. "Consider it done, Giovanni."

I knew I could trust him. He was the only one I could trust. As I climbed into the SUV, a cold dread settled over me. The wedding was tomorrow. And something, deep down, told me that I was walking into a trap. My carefully constructed world was about to shatter, and I had no idea what awaited me on the other side. The alliance with the Conti's, which I wanted so badly, could just be a road to my own destruction.