Ardito's Point of View
The evening air bites against my neck as I cross the private runway.
Four men in dark suits flank my sides, keeping pace with me. The tarmac lights reflect against
the sleek body of the jet waiting for me, engines humming, my family crest engraved subtly on
the tail of the aircraft.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Fishing it out, I barely glance at the text.
Giovanni: The board is trying to move without you. If we don't land tonight, someone is going to
die.
I slip the phone back and sigh. He just had a way of ruining my day in a split of seconds.
The staircase lowers automatically, and as I step closer, a man in a charcoal suit dips his head.
"Welcome back, Signor Martinelli.
"
My shoes hit the aircraft steps quietly. Inside the jet, the cabin glows with soft lighting, suede
seats, marble trim, a mini bar, and screens displaying flight metrics. The smell of expensive
wood and leather saturates the air.
Giovanni is already sitting with his feet on the table.
Of course he is.
He's scrolling through my file on his tablet while eating pistachios like he owns the damn jet.
"You're late,
" he says, not looking up.
"You're in my seat,
" I reply.
"No,
" he points with a pistachio shell,
"I'm in the seat closest to the snacks.
"
I stop, stare.
He finally lifts his green mischievous eyes coated with an annoyingly self-satisfied look.
"So,
" Giovanni says slowly,
"tell me about the girl.
"
I walk past him and set my briefcase down.
"What girl?"
"The one who made you cancel three meetings, miss two calls from Milan, and ignore me for ten
straight hours,
" he lists lazily.
"That girl.
"
He's pushing.
"You're imagining things,
" I reply, taking the seat opposite him and flipping open my laptop.
Giovanni grins like a wolf.
"I'm imagining that you flew across the continent twenty-four hours early because a girl told you
no?"
I don't dignify that with an answer.
The flight attendant passes, offering champagne. Giovanni takes one. I don't.
"You're glowing,
" Giovanni teases.
"Is this what flustered looks like on you? Should I take a
picture? I should take a picture.
"
I slam his tablet shut with the side of my hand.
His eyebrows shoot up, impressed.
"Oh, it's serious-serious. Damn, man.
"
My jaw twitches.
Giovanni leans forward, voice dropping.
"What's her name though?"
My silence answers him.
"So it is her.
" he whispers, delighted.
I close my laptop slowly.
"Don't,
" I warn.
Giovanni ignores the warning completely, going ahead to guess.
"She said no?"
I don't respond.
He whistles.
"And you didn't take it well I presume.
"
"She's stubborn,
" I mutter.
Giovanni laughs once, loud enough to echo around the cabin.
"Oh, Dio. You like her.
"
That crack hits a nerve. I stand abruptly, closing the distance in two strides, grab his collar and
pin him against the interior wall of the jet.
He keeps laughing.
Not scared.
Not surprised.
Just entertained.
"You won't touch me,
" Giovanni smiles.
"You never do.
"
My knuckles tighten anyway.
"Shut up.
"
"You shoved me into a wall because I said you like someone. That means you do.
"
He's too amused.
I release him with a shove.
Giovanni brushes imaginary dust off his shoulders and returns to his seat like nothing
happened.
"You know,
" he says, popping another pistachio into his mouth,
"for a man who claims he
doesn't feel, your reactions are very emotional.
"
I sit again, jaw clenched.
"This trip isn't about her.
"
Giovanni smirks.
"If you say so, professore.
"
The engines roar, and the jet begins to taxi. I rest my head back, eyes closing as we accelerate
upward into the sky.
Italy always has a way of pulling me back.
The moment we land in Milan, the air changes.
Flashbulbs ignite outside security gates. Our cars wait in a perfect convoy of matte SUVs and
two black sedans. My people move with precision. The door is opened for me, and I slide into
the back seat.
The convoy moves.
We arrive at a towering glass building overlooking the city: MARTINELLI & CO.
My other life.
Inside the executive boardroom, the atmosphere is suffocating. Men in tailored suits shift
uneasily as I enter. Their voices cut off mid-sentence. Phones disappear. Folders snap shut.
Giovanni follows behind me like a shadow.
One board member clears his throat.
"We were under the impression—
"
"That I was gone long enough for you to make decisions without me?" I finish.
No one speaks.
I take my seat at the head of the table. The room seems to shrink.
"Our contract with the European biotech firm,
" I say,
"you attempted to renegotiate without
authorization.
"
A man at the table sweats.
"W-We thought expanding—
"
"You thought wrong.
"
Giovanni leans his hip against the wall, arms crossed, silent but lethal. His presence alone is
intimidation.
I slide the unsigned document back across the table.
"Try that again,
" I say quietly,
"and you'll never step foot in this company again.
"
Everyone nods.
Fear restored.
Control restored.
Hours later, after decisions are made and power reclaimed, Giovanni and I step out onto the
rooftop terrace of the penthouse office.
The city lights glitter beneath us.
He hands me a glass of water, the closest thing I drink to alcohol.
"You're still thinking of her,
" Giovanni says casually.
"No.
"
"Your face says yes.
"
"My face says nothing.
"
He snorts.
"Your silence screams.
"
He leans against the railing.
"You think she's foolish,
" Giovanni says softly,
"but that girl walked into the archives alone just to
seek answers.
"
I say nothing.
"That's not stupidity,
" he says.
"That's courage.
"
Or desperation.
He looks at me, face unexpectedly serious.
"For the first time in years, someone got into your head. That terrifies you more than any threat.
"
My fist tightens around the glass.
"I don't get attached.
"
"I know,
" Giovanni replies, not mocking. Just factual.
"That's why it matters.
"
He pushes off the railing, heading toward the door.
Before he leaves, he adds:
"When you're done pretending she's nothing, you'll realize she's the reason you came back
early.
"
The door shuts behind him.
I stare over Milan.
City of power.
City of control.
But my mind drifts back to a dim basement with dusty records…
and a pair of trembling hands rejecting me.
No.
Just one word.
One rejection.
I don't get rejected.
I don't get questioned.
And I sure as hell don't get affected.
But this time…
you don't scare me.
I exhale slowly.
"She should.
"
But I don't know if I'm warning her…
or myself.