♜ BACKGROUND

Giovanni is the eldest of seven siblings who were all raised on the coast of Lake Como. They lived affluently thanks to a luxurious resort that’s been in ownership of the Fiore’s for decades. Despite being the heir of this estate, Gio disappointed his father by leaving Italy to pursue a new life in the United States. His family assumed he was simply young and foolish for his move, but the reasonings lay in dark secrets he was forced to unbury. For years, Antonio Zanetta hung a threat over his head that he refused to face. It wasn’t until the object of those threats, the love of Giovanni’s life, returned to him that he challenged these secrets head on. Nicola is the one and only woman Gio has ever loved. She is his wife, the mother of his children, and perfection personified in his eyes. Now that the blackmail has lifted, Giovanni and Nicola are free to live their blissful life in Laglio.

♜ PERSONALITY

Gio Jr. sat on the floor, focused on assembling a puzzle. It had only been a few weeks since they’d brought him home, and while he hadn’t yet called them ‘Mom’ or ‘Dad,’ the distance between them was gradually diminishing.

“How’s the packing going?” Giovanni asked.

“Almost done, Tesoro.” Nicola replied, glancing up with a smile. She turned to peek at Ant Bosco, who happily babbled and played in his crib.

Gio placed a hand on her growing belly, feeling the baby kick, a reassuring sign. “He’s eager to join us.” Smiling, he leaned down to softly kiss his wife. 

The past year had been challenging, testing their resilience. Now, as they packed up this modest apartment, preparing to move to their forever home, Giovanni felt a sense of calm.

“GG, look!” Gio Jr. called out, holding up the completed puzzle. That was the nickname he used as they bonded closer and closer to “dad.” 

Giovanni crouched down to inspect it. “Nice work, champ. You finished that quickly.”

As evening approached, they gathered for dinner, discussing the day’s events and the upcoming completion of their new house. Laughter punctuated their conversation, a sign of their growing unity.

Later, after reading Gio Jr. his favorite bedtime story, Giovanni and Nicola sat on the balcony, the cool night air surrounding them.

“We’ve come a long way,” he remarked.

“And there’s so much ahead,” she replied, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I’d think carefully before dragging this out,” Giovanni said, voice low, measured. “Because while we stand here wasting time, your wife and daughter are tied up, waiting to be slaughtered.”

The words sent a ripple through the room. Even Vince, Giuseppe’s loyal runner, tensed at the mention of his boss’s family. Giovanni watched as Giuseppe’s jaw tightened, his calculating eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“You’re bluffing,” Giuseppe spat, though there was a sliver of doubt beneath the bravado.

Giovanni tilted his head. “Am I?” He took a slow step forward. “You think your men are loyal? All of them? One of them talked, Giuseppe. He gave us everything; told us exactly where you keep them. That’s how I know they’re sitting in a dark room right now, helpless. You let my wife and son go, and we’ll tell Enzo’s men to stand down. Or…” He let the weight of the unspoken threat settle.

A flicker of something dangerous crossed Giuseppe’s face, but it was fleeting. He was an old dog who knew the cost of hesitation. His family was his Achilles’ heel, and Giovanni had pressed right against it.

A long silence stretched before Giuseppe exhaled sharply, his lip curling in disgust. “Vince,” he barked. “Get them.”

Vince hesitated, looking between them.

“Now.”

The runner turned on his heel and disappeared through the heavy doors.

Giovanni’s chest was tight as he waited. Nicola would be coming back to him. That much, he was sure of, but Giovanni Jr.? That was the real fight. The boy had been raised under the Scuderis’ thumb. He was likely taught to hate them, to believe his father had abandoned him. Would he even want to leave? If refused, would Giovanni have to drag his own son out by force?

The thought threatened to unravel him, but he shoved it down. He’d fight for his son, and he’d do whatever it took to make him see the truth.

The door creaked open, and Giovanni’s breath locked in his chest as Vince stepped inside, leading Nicola and Gio Jr. into the room. They looked unharmed — no bruises, no visible wounds — but their eyes told a different story. Dark, wide, filled with terror. Nicola looked like she might collapse at any second, her face pale, her steps unsteady. His son… God, his first born son… was a mirror of himself, the same sharp jaw, the same dark eyes, but filled with a wariness Giovanni had never seen before. He wanted to move, to close the distance, to pull them both into his arms and swear they’d never be touched again, but he couldn’t. Not yet. He forced himself to stay rooted, his hands curling into fists at his sides. First, he had to finish this. He had to make sure no one would ever come for them again.

His eyes snapped back to Giuseppe. “This isn’t over.”

The older man scoffed. “You got what you wanted. Take your wife, take your son, and get the hell out of my sight.”

“No.” Giovanni’s voice was ironclad. “Not like this.” He took another step forward, closing the space between them. “I want something binding. Something ancient. Something that will destroy either of us if it’s broken.”

Giuseppe’s brow furrowed.

His phone shattered the silence — Lorenzo’s name flashing on the screen. Answering with a terse demand for Nicola’s whereabouts, Gio listened as Enzo relayed the grim news: she had been abducted. Antonio had received word from the Scuderis family. 

Gio’s world crumbled. Desperate, he called his brother, Romeo, seeking his support. Now, the three of them — Gio, Romeo, and Enzo — paced the length of Enzo’s old house, the place he lived before dating Vienna. The space was sparsely furnished, the air heavy with the lingering scent of cigars and bourbon. Though Gio hadn’t stayed there in a while, the atmosphere felt eerily familiar, like a ghost from the past creeping into their present crisis.

He barely heard the sound of his own breath as he paced, rage curling in his stomach like fire licking at his ribs. Across from him, Lorenzo stood just as tense, eyes dark with accusation.

"You did this," Giovanni spat, the words venom on his tongue. "Your family's bullshit. Your secrets. You knew this would happen someday."

Lorenzo's jaw tightened, his hands curling at his sides. "You wanna talk about who fucked up? Where the hell were you, Fiore? Off in New York? Pissing around across the world while my sister was here--"

Giovanni didn't let him finish. He surged forward, swinging hard, his knuckles connecting with Lorenzo's jaw. Enzo barely staggered before lunging back, throwing a solid right hook that snapped Gio's head to the side. The pain was immediate, sharp, but all it did was fuel the fire.

They went to blows, raw, vicious. Gio shoved Lorenzo against the table, sending papers flying as he threw another punch. Enzo ducked, landed a hit to Gio's ribs, making him grunt.

Blood was smeared across Lorenzo's mouth, a bruise already blooming on Giovanni's cheek.

Romeo's voice cut through the chaos.

"Enough!"

Before either of them could swing again, Romeo forced himself between them, shoving them apart. He glared between them, breathing hard. "Did you forget why the fuck we're here? Nicola is out there. Taken. While you two are throwing fists like jackasses."

Giovanni wiped blood from his mouth, chest heaving. He wanted to keep swinging. Wanted to break something, but Romeo was right. Nicola was out there, and they had to move.

The plan was straightforward, but flawless execution was imperative. Romeo revealed he had a contact within the Scuderis family. He refused to elaborate, but Gio had no choice but to set aside his suspicions and trust his brother. Romeo would reach out to Giuseppe’s right-hand, posing as a man eager to align himself with the Scuderis’ operations and requesting a private audience with their leader. As Nicola’s brother-in-law and the family’s black sheep, Romeo was ready for his moment in the sun.

Meanwhile, Giovanni and Lorenzo would remain hidden in the shadows, armed and ready to strike the moment they saw an opening.

As Romeo approached the grand iron gates of the estate, the guards stiffened, their eyes scrutinizing every inch of him. He played his part well… confident, but not too eager, just another man looking to get a foot in the door of a dangerous empire. 

The guards patted him down, their suspicion evident, but they found nothing out of place. They were seconds away from waving him through when Enzo made his move.

Without hesitation, he appeared and raised his silenced pistol. Two precise shots. The guards barely had time to register the pain before their bodies crumpled, lifeless, to the cold stone pathway. Blood pooled beneath them, seeping into the cracks of the estate’s pristine marble entrance.

The three of them moved swiftly, slipping inside before the bodies even hit the ground. 

The air inside was thick with the scent of cigars and expensive cologne, but beneath that was something darker… the unshakable tension of a place where violence was currency and trust was a myth. The dimly lit corridors stretched out before them, eerily silent. It was the kind of silence that made the hairs on the back of Giovanni’s neck rise, the kind that told him danger lurked just out of sight.

Enzo worked fast, his silenced pistol a whisper of death in the stillness. Every guard or foot soldier that crossed their path dropped without a sound, his precision lethal. Giovanni and Romeo didn’t need to fire a single shot; they moved with disciplined efficiency, their footfalls muffled against the marble floors. They were shadows, ghosts slipping through enemy territory with one goal in mind.

Every step brought them closer to the man who had stolen everything from Giovanni. The man who had taken his wife. His son. Soon, he would pay.

Then, finally, they found him.

Giuseppe sat at a grand, mahogany desk in his office. His dark eyes flickered with amused shock as the three of them approached, guns drawn, chests heaving.

Giovanni approached Giuseppe at a slow pace, his eyes burning with unfiltered rage. His breath came fast and heavy, nostrils flaring as he glared down at the man who had torn his family apart. Giuseppe Scuderis. 

The man who had stolen his wife.

The man who had stolen his firstborn son.

"Where is she?" Giovanni's voice was deadly, low, a growl of pure fury. "Where is my wife?

Where is my son?!"

Giuseppe barely blinked, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. The kind of smirk that made Giovanni's blood boil. He wanted to kill him right then and there, to put a bullet between his eyes. But he couldn't… not yet.

Not until he had them.