Page 82 of Prince of Vice

"Ready when you are," Joe says softly, his eyes filled with the wisdom of a thousand stories inked into skin.

I nod, and we begin again.

* * *

A week has gone by, and the silence between Isabella and me stretches like a weighty chasm. Stubborn as ever, she refuses to answer my texts and calls, her voice a fading melody in the cavernous halls of my mind. Even when I gather the courage to approach her in person, she stands like stone, beautiful but immovable. The flower deliveries I've sent pile up outside her apartment door, creating a vibrant barricade that still fails to reach her heart.

I find myself sitting in Giovanni's office, my focus slipping away like sand through my fingers. We work side by side, our desks facing each other, and he catches my distracted gaze more than once. Today, his eyes hold a glimmer of concern as they meet mine.

"Alright, what's going on?" he asks, leaning back in his chair.

“Nothing,” I lie, but Giovanni isn’t buying it.

“We’ve got a pretty substantial mental health program here at the company,” he says. “You can refuse to tell me, but before the end of the day, you’ll be telling somebody, because frankly, all your moping around is a huge bummer.”

I give him a look. “You sound like Teddy.”

He shrugs. “We could both use a bit more of his perspective in our lives.”

I sigh heavily, my worry pushing the air from my lungs. "I fear that I have lost Isabella completely."

Giovanni shakes his head, offering a reassuring smile. "That's not the case, I'm sure. Perhaps she just needs time to come around."

The frustration builds inside me, a storm waiting to break. I run my fingers through my hair, gripping the strands tightly. "I don't want to wait any longer for her. I want her now."

He laughs, his voice light and teasing. "You need to learn patience. You're used to being the head of the mafia, with all its perks, but now in the real world, you'll have to be patient and kind to get what you want."

My lips twist into a wry grin. "I've made a terrible mistake, haven't I?"

"Too late to go back now," Giovanni chuckles. His gaze softens, and he leans forward, elbows resting on his desk. "Look, I'm not the person to ask about women."

"Yet I've seen you with a woman I don't recognize," I counter, raising an eyebrow.

He waves a dismissive hand. "Yes, but let's not change the subject. If you really want guidance in this situation, of the four of us, Teddy has always had a way with women."

"Excellent idea," I say, standing up from my chair.

"Make sure you fit it in your lunch break," he calls after me, a teasing note in his voice.

I glance back at him, incredulous. He laughs, waving me off. "I'm joking! Go on, sort this out. You're a pile of shit with this still on your mind."

With that encouragement, I leave Giovanni's office, determined to find Teddy and seek his advice.

I make my way to the mansion, uncertainty heavy on my chest. The gym is a familiar sight, full of worn equipment and memories of sweat-drenched afternoons. Teddy is there, as I expected, his fists pounding a punching bag with a rhythmic intensity that speaks of deep focus.

"Teddy," I call out, but he doesn't seem to hear me over the sound of his strikes. It's only when he glances up and sees me waiting by the door that he stops, his expression shifting from concentration to concern.

"What's the matter?" he asks, wiping the sweat from his brow as he approaches. "You look even sadder than usual."

"Isabella," I admit, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I need your advice."

"Come on then," he says, motioning for me to follow him. "This won't be a short conversation. Let's take it up to the kitchen."

We climb the stairs, the silence between us punctuated only by the distant sounds of our footsteps. The kitchen is bright and airy, sunlight streaming through the windows and casting warm shadows across the gleaming countertops. Teddy starts making himself a protein shake, the blender roaring to life with a deafening whir.

"Can you hear me?" I shout over the noise, but Teddy just shakes his head and gestures for me to wait.

When the machine finally falls silent, he grins and leans against the counter, his biceps flexing beneath his t-shirt. "So what's going on?"

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