Chapter Eight: The Snake In The Grass

But the world outside their happy bubble was shifting.

Bruno came to them three weeks after they’d learned about the pregnancy.

His expression grim.

“We have a problem.”

He laid a folder on Elio’s desk.

“Marcus Vitale is making moves.”

Geneva knew that name.

Vitale ran one of the smaller families. Always ambitious. Always hungry for more power.

He’d been at their wedding. All smiles and false congratulations.

“What kind of moves?” Elio asked. His arm tightening around her where she sat on the edge of his desk.

“He’s been meeting with the other families. Suggesting that you’ve gone soft.” Bruno’s gaze flicked to Geneva apologetically. “That marriage has made you weak.”

“Let me guess.” Elio’s voice was dry. “He’s offering to step in and provide the strong leadership Chicago needs.”

“Essentially.”

Bruno pulled out photos.

“He’s also been courting some of your lower-level guys. Offering better deals. More territory.”

Geneva studied the photographs. Seeing men she recognized from estate functions.

“Has anyone taken him up on it?”

“Not yet.” Bruno’s expression darkened. “But he’s persistent. And he’s playing on old resentments. The guys who think you’ve been neglecting business to play house.”

The accusation stung. Even secondhand.

Elio’s hand found hers. Squeezing gently.

“They’re wrong.” He said quietly. “The business has never been stronger. Profits are up. Territories are secure. Our alliances are solid.”

“I know that, boss. You know that. But Vitale is good at whispers and insinuations.”

Bruno hesitated.

“There’s something else.”

“Tell me.”

“He knows about the baby.”

Ice flooded Geneva’s veins.

“How?”

“We’re not sure yet.” Bruno’s jaw tightened. “Could be someone on staff. Could be he’s got an informant somewhere. But he’s been making noise about the Vieira heir. About how convenient it would be if something happened to you before the child was born.”

Elio’s face went absolutely cold.

“He threatened my wife and child.”

“He’s too smart to make direct threats.” Bruno corrected. “But the implication is clear.”

Geneva watched her husband transform before her eyes.

The loving, protective man she’d woken up beside became the ruthless crime lord who commanded fear across the city.

His eyes turned to steel. His expression carved from ice.

“Call a meeting.” He said quietly. “All family heads. Tomorrow night.”

“And make sure Vitale knows he’s expected.”

After Bruno left, Elio pulled Geneva into his arms.

His control fracturing slightly.

“I won’t let him hurt you.” He promised against her hair. “I won’t let anyone hurt you or our baby.”

“I know.” She held him tightly. “But Elio—you need to be smart about this. Vitale is goading you. Trying to make you overreact.”

“There’s no overreaction when someone threatens my family.”

“Then be strategic.” She urged. “Don’t give him what he wants. Show everyone that you’re not weak. That marriage hasn’t made you vulnerable. Show them you’re stronger than ever.”

He pulled back to look at her.

Something like awe in his expression.

“How did you get so wise?”

“I married a crime lord.” She said dryly. “I learned to think like one.”

The meeting of the families was held at one of Elio’s downtown properties.

A penthouse that served as neutral ground for inter-family business.

Geneva insisted on attending.

“If they think you’re weak because of me,” she argued, “then they need to see that I’m not a weakness. I’m an asset.”

Elio hesitated. Clearly torn between protecting her and recognizing the political wisdom of her presence.

“You stay beside me.” He finally agreed. “And you let me handle Vitale.”

“Of course.” She kissed him softly. “I’m just there to look intimidating.”

His laugh was strained.

“You in that dress will definitely intimidate them.”

She’d chosen her outfit carefully.

A black sheath dress that was elegantly modest but undeniably expensive. Her grandmother’s ruby necklace. Her hair in a sleek chignon.

She looked every inch the mafia wife.

Powerful and untouchable.

---

The other family heads were already assembled when they arrived.

Five men of varying ages. All dangerous in their own ways. All watching with calculating eyes as Elio and Geneva entered together.

Marcus Vitale was younger than she’d expected.

Mid-forties with silver threading his dark hair. Handsome in a polished way. Expensive suit. Practiced smile.

He rose as they approached. Extending a hand to Elio.

“Vieira. Good of you to call this meeting.” His eyes raked over Geneva with undisguised interest. “And Mrs. Vieira. Looking radiant as always. Married life agrees with you.”

“It does.” She replied coolly.

Allowing her hand to rest protectively over her still-flat stomach.

The gesture was deliberate. Claiming her pregnancy publicly.

She saw the calculation in Vitale’s eyes. The quick assessment and dismissal.

He thought she was a weakness. A distraction.

He had no idea.

Elio guided her to the head of the table. Seating her on his right before addressing the room.

The confrontation was tense. Vitale tried to paint Elio as weak. But Elio turned the tables. Exposed Vitale’s bleeding territory and desperate power grabs.

“You have two choices, Marcus.” Elio concluded. “Apologize to my wife. Swear fealty. Accept a significant reduction in your territory. Or refuse—and we settle this the old way.”

Vitale’s face flushed. But he had no support.

He apologized. Publicly humiliated.

But Geneva knew better than to trust a snake.

Two weeks later, she was six months pregnant and beginning to show.

Elio had become impossibly protective. Barely letting her out of his sight.

But she had a charity event to attend. A fundraiser she’d been planning for months. And she refused to let fear keep her locked away.

“I’ll have ten guards.” She assured him that morning. “Bruno’s driving me personally. It’s the museum, Elio. Not a war zone.”

“Everywhere is a war zone.” He muttered. Adjusting her necklace with gentle fingers. “But you’re right. I can’t keep you prisoner.”

The fundraiser was beautiful.

The museum transformed with flowers and string lights.

Geneva was in the middle of discussing a new scholarship program when Bruno appeared at her elbow.

His face ashen.

“Mrs. Vieira—we need to leave. Now.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The boss. There’s been an incident.”

The drive back to the estate was the longest of her life.

Bruno’s explanation was terse. Horrific.

Vitale hadn’t accepted his defeat. He’d arranged a meeting under the guise of discussing the territory transfers. Then ambushed Elio with a dozen armed men.

“How bad?” Geneva asked. Her hands protectively cradling her belly.

“He’s alive.” Bruno said. Which wasn’t an answer. “Dr. Cesare is with him now.”

The estate was in chaos when they arrived.

Geneva ran through the house as much as a six-months-pregnant woman could run.

Elio lay on their bed.

His shirt cut away. Dr. Cesare working frantically on a wound in his shoulder.

There was so much blood.

Soaking the sheets. Staining the doctor’s hands.

“Elio.”

His name came out as a sob.

His eyes opened. Finding hers.

“Geneva. You’re supposed to be at the fundraiser.”

“You’re supposed to not get shot.” She countered. Moving to his side.

Her hands shook as she took his. Sticky with blood.

“The baby is fine.” She said before he could ask. “But you’re not. How bad is it, Doctor?”

“The bullet went through cleanly.” Dr. Cesare said. “Missed the major arteries. He’ll need rest and antibiotics. But he’ll recover.”

Relief made her knees weak.

“Thank God.”

“Not God.” Elio said, his voice strained but steady. “Bruno. He drove like a maniac to get me here.”

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