Page 27 of The Silence Lies

The Governor hosts a gala every summer, inviting all the socialites, the wealthy and truly powerful people this side of the Bay. Every man and his wife—sometimes mistress—turns up to these events, my father included. It’s a chance to socialize with the families who built the Governor’s empire, support him to no end, and in taking my father’s position, I’m also caught up in this.

“Oh, Bianchi,” Levi sighs, gripping my chin. His thumb dances over my bottom lip, his eyes tracking the movement carefully. I’m glad I haven’t put on lipstick because it would definitely have smudged by now.

I suck in a breath when he closes the remaining distance, pressing his hard body against mine. My eyes land on those luscious lips that I stole a kiss from just the other day. His cologne hypnotizes me with that familiar spicy scent, and the way he smiles has my pulse kicking up several notches.

“Levi, I—“

“I’m not going to lie. I’m jealous,” he growls as he towers over me. He runs his hand up the gap in my dress, that exposes my thigh.

“Of?” I bite back the urge to weaken under his touch. But there’s only so much self-control I can muster in this proximity. When his lips descend onto my neck, my eyes roll to the back of my head. I succumb to the gentle touch of his mouth, the caress of his palm as it skates higher. I never considered whether I was attracted to Levi before, but now that my focus is set on avenging Enzo’s death, the mourning has been replaced with something akin to desire.

“Of everyone seeing you in this dress.”

I can’t help the stifled moan that escapes me when he nips my earlobe, his fingertips skating dangerously close to my underwear. Levi has taken our moment together to a new level and as much as I know I should be setting boundaries, I can’t bring myself to create the distance.

“You look ravishing, Bianchi. Good enough to—“

A throat clears, snapping my attention to where the sound came from. Giovanni.

Levi pulls away slowly, smirking as his eyes linger on my flushed face.

Eventually, I turn to Giovanni standing in the doorway, his tux perfectly tailored to his muscular body, his hair smoothed back with just the slightest dusting of gray hairs close to his ears. It occurs to me that I don’t even know how old he is. I can’t imagine he’s much older than any of us, but he does radiate a maturity that Levi doesn’t.

Giovanni nods at me, and I smile back. “I’m ready,” I say, pushing past Levi.

I halt in my steps when Levi grabs my hand, pinning me with a stare. “I might not be allowed in, Bianchi,” he warns, stepping close to me once more. “But I’ll be there.”

I don’t question Levi’s motives or his position. I know he’s worried, and after Luciano’s visit last night, he has good reason to be. The only thing filling me with confidence is the fact the Verdi’s have no standing when it comes to the Governor, and that’s exactly where I am heading to tonight.

While Levi’s eyes refuse to look away, Giovanni guides me to the car. I settle in the back, watching Levi head to his Porsche. There’s no point in fighting him on this. Even though I’m his boss, his job and his intentions, are to make sure I am safe. I can’t argue with that.

As soon as the engine starts, I sink back into the plush leather. Giovanni peels us away, heading further from the Bay and into the City. It’s still light outside by the time we reach the venue, a hotel bought out for the night by the Governor. Despite the exclusivity, the place is teeming with paparazzi, reporters and people trying to catch a glimpse of those who are rarely seen.

I guess I can count myself as one of those invisible figures because not many recognize me.

The door opens beside me, and when I look up, Giovanni is standing ready for me to take his hand. His green eyes are locked on mine, watching me carefully. Giovanni’s job might be to protect me, but right now, he’s gazing down at me like I have a choice.

Taking a deep breath, I place my hand in his. He might be giving me a choice, but we both know I’m obligated to show my face here.

The roar of the crowd outside drives me closer to Giovanni. The air is thick with the summer heat and the taint of desperation oozing from the groupies. I push closer to my guard. It’s mostly subconscious but I make no effort to right myself.

Since the day Giovanni walked through my office door, I’ve sensed something about him. His presence is alluring and safe. I feel no judgment from his silent stares, just the sensation that I can be myself. Having him by my side calms me, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say the guy was attractive, too. But he’s my bodyguard. He has a job to do.

As we walk past the flashing cameras and screaming voices, Giovanni’s hold on my hand tightens. I wish I could say I wasn’t nervous, but I’d be a liar. Events like this put me on edge, especially since Enzo’s passing. Since Levi isn’t officially invited, I have no choice but to put my trust solely in my bodyguard.

A rush of warm air greets our faces as we’re thrusted into new surroundings. We enter through large wooden doors, adorned with solid brass fixtures that shimmer too bright. Extravagant chandeliers hang brightly from the ceiling of the great hall, while matching candelabras cling to the walls. Deep red carpets trail a path through the room, cushioning our feet the further we step. The red and gold theme screams royalty, and is a perfect reflection of the one person who holds these events.

My eyes scatter among the hordes of people. There are few faces here that I actually recognize, but the one I latch onto, is already smiling at me.

With my hand in Giovanni’s, I give it a comforting squeeze. “Let’s get this over with,” I mutter.

“Tesora!” My father beams as he approaches. With a hard yank, he pulls me into a hug, breaking my only physical tether to my bodyguard. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks, Pa.” It’s a half-assed response since the last time we spoke he was berating me for saying goodbye to my best friend. I don’t hold many grudges, but yeah, I’m still pissy about him treating me like a child, when he is the very reason I’m in this position.

“Come,” my father says, snapping me out of my thoughts and taking my hand. “There are some people I want you to meet.”

He takes off before I have the chance to stop him. Always wanting to be the man in charge, we have no choice but to follow him. With Giovanni by my side, I feel calm and collected enough to handle the situation I know my father is about to throw me into. Even after taking his place, he still insists on using me to butter up officials. I’m not the naïve little girl from ten years ago, though. I understand fully what my father’s intentions are, and while I hate every second he flounces me in front of people, labeling me his protegé, I’m using it to my advantage.

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