The Gun In His Hand

Giuliana's pov

(Three weeks before the wedding)

I paced round the room, the conversation from earlier infiltrating my mind sporadically.

I fist my hand, my body burning with anger. How could Papa marry me off to Emiliano? And who would have thought he was actually a senior manager of one of his companies, not one of his loyal minions?

“Did papa mean everything he said?”

“Would he really kill me if I refused this proposal?”

“I’ll spread your body, so everyone sees what happens when you defy Don Morano,” I recalled his earlier words. Just the thought of his threat made goosebumps spread on my skin.

I had stomped out of the study like a little child who had just been banned from eating candy.

I had to stop this marriage one way or the other. I can't get married to that bastard.

“I hate him so much!” I screamed, grabbing my hair in frustration. I would rather marry my father's butler than that arrogant bastard. "He's so shameless,” I continued to rant to myself.

“Maybe if I could get rid of him…kill him perhaps,” I smiled evilly as I thought of big different ways to end the sick bastard’s life.

“Who do you plan to kill? My service might be needed.”

I jumped at the sound of a thick voice, my hands pressed to my chest.

I looked up to see the devil staring down at me, his face bare of any emotion.

“Why would you scare me like that?” I cried.

“It's not my fault you were busy trying to escape your fate when I kept knocking on your door,” he responded, his eyes boring into mine. “Who are you planning to kill, Principessa?"

“None of your damn business!” I spat back, glaring at him. “You could at least act a bit responsibly while under my father's roof. What if I was naked?”

“Your body doesn't come close to any I've caressed or killed...you're anything but special,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I will sleep with a pig, rather than let you ever come close to my body," I said. "You're worth nothing more than a puppet to my family. Don't you dare forget your place.”

“Just because you think you're a flimsy manager in Papa's lowest-ranked company does not make you someone here,” I seethed, my words coming out sharper than I intended.

He stared at me, his posture still tall and confident, like all the words I had just thrown at him meant nothing to him.

The silence that stretched between us felt more like an hour, no one willing to back down from the glare.

And then it hit me. He hadn't said the reason he barged into my room.

“What do you want?” I asked, my eyes still on him. I couldn't dare to leave his sight. It felt like if I let my guard down for a second, he would attack. That was how much I didn't trust this man.

I knew his type. He was the worst of those filthy traitors.

“You need to stop resisting this arrangement”

“Too bad, I don't do well with submitting orders...now get out!” I said, moving back to sit on my sofa.

But he stood back. His eyes roamed the corners of my room, like he was trying to find a clue of something dirty I was engaged in.

“I'd rather die than be your prisoner bride, Emiliano”

“You don't own a place here, not in this mansion, not in my heart," I clenched my teeth.

“Careful what you wish for, or I might just be kind enough to grant your wish,” he said, his eyes returning to me. I watched as his eyes trailed my body. My silk night dress had now ridden up due to my seated position, his eyes latching on the skin of my thighs. “Besides, your heart is of no use to me."

I opened my mouth to deliver a retort back when I heard a loud BANG.

I jumped out of my seat with a loud scream, trying to hide under the small coffee table, when I felt a hand grab mine and drag me.

“Get your filthy hands-” I tried to shout when another loud bang shook the building.

We were under attack.

My heart jumped wildly against my chest, my eyes squeezed shut.

The last attack I experienced was when I witnessed my mum get shut in her throat.

Emiliano dragged me out of my room and down the stairs. Just then, one of Papa's men ran towards us, attempting to push us away from an incoming bullet, the bullet hitting him instead. I screamed in disgust when his blood spilled on my face.

Emiliano continued to drag me away from the scene, my feet following hurriedly.

Bodies and bodies continued to fall on the tiled floor, the ground now stained a crimson red, a disgusting stench slowly filling the room.

My stomach twisted horribly from seeing all the dead bodies littered on the floor.

Before Emiliano could get close to the basement, more intruders walked in, bullets flying in random motion. He quickly pushed me down, his breath coming down heavily.

“You need to stay here... I need to go help the boss”, Emiliano screamed over the loud sound of the guns.

My eyes widened in slight fear. I had experienced something close to this before, and Papa had even trained me in self-defense, but still, I couldn't believe Emiliano was ready to leave his ‘fiancé’ in a gunfire scene.

“Are you really leaving me here?” I growled at him. "You're supposed to protect me, not my father, who has spent years living this kind of life. He is a mafia lord!”

“My loyalty lies with your father, not to his brat of a daughter who thinks everyone should bow to her feet,” he spat back before running out from under the table where he left me to fend for myself.

I suppressed the scream of frustration that bubbled irritatingly in my chest. I looked at the floor, noticing a gun on my feet.

“He thinks giving me a gun is enough to protect me?” I scoffed, shaking my head.

I wasn't going to sit under this table where I knew just anyone could find me. So I stood up and ran towards the basement, throwing the robe off my shoulder, its weight once restricting me.

The basement was safer. A place only Papa, his loyal men, and I knew the safe code to.

Just then, a shadow moved in front of me, and before I could bring the gun up to his face, his fist collided with my jaw, throwing me off the ground and landing on the floor with a loud thud.

Pain exploded through my entire body, the distinct smell of gunpowder filling my nose completely.

I urged my eyes to open, looking at the perpetrator. And in his hand was a gun, pointed to my head, off its safety.

My hands searched the space near me, frantically looking for the gun I held just moments ago…but it was nowhere.

It was then I realized my fate.

I was going to die, all because my fiancé was too much of a dick to protect me.

Just then, at that short moment, I recalled Papa's words, “He's one of my most trustworthy men. I wouldn't just hand you over to an ordinary worker. He'll protect you, Bambina.” Papa tried to reassure him.

Joke’s on him.

And *BANG* the gun went off. I braced for the pain…but it never came, instead a body fell over me.

A body that smelled strangely familiar to the man who I swore I hated more than the devil.

Emiliano groaned as blood sputtered out of his stomach, while his hands gripped his gun, shooting the other man before I could register a scream out of my mouth.

Wedding Bells

(Four weeks before the wedding)

Giuliana's POV

Emiliano was quickly rushed to the family's clinic, still in Morano's mansion.

The smell of drugs and antiseptic filled my nostrils as I watched Emiliano lie unconscious on the bed.

The doctor had said he would live, but his survival was dancing on a thin thread.

“This is stupid... why should I care if he survives?” I paced the room, my lips drawn into a frown. "...heck! I should be celebrating my freedom or probably finish him right here and now.”

My voice wavered, betraying my thought.

It must be guilt. He took the bullet for me and all that's left in my heart for him is appreciation.

Nothing else.

I walked out of the room, chin up.

(Two weeks before the wedding)

Two weeks had passed, but Emiliano was yet to gain consciousness.

The mansion had changed. Emiliano had only been here for a short time, but his absence left a gaping hole. The news about his death spread like wildfire. But he wasn't even dead.

He just needed to come out of a coma.

“How's he?” I asked the doctor immediately I got to his ward. I had refused to visit him for the past two weeks, trying to convince myself that he didn't matter. The fact he was laying on that bed like a vegetable didn't bother me.

He meant nothing to me.

But I could not hold on to that thought anymore. I knew I cared about Emiliano enough to want him to live, even if I detested the idea of marrying him.

“His body is healing quite alright, but his state of consciousness is stillប. He should be awake by now seeing how much he has improved, so let's just wait and see,” Doc Adrian replied.

“So he'll wake up soon, right?” My eyes immediately became brighter.

I was hopeful. I felt delighted.

I hated it.

“I couldn't predict that,” the doctor sighed.

“But you said…”

“I won't lie to you, Miss Giulia… if he doesn't regain consciousness soon, he might never wake up. Everything is up to Emiliano now."

“That can't happen,” I whispered.

“I'm sorry.” I watched the doctor leave the room after his revelation.

Emiliano might never wake up.

It was just a shot to the stomach. The doctor even said his body was healing properly, so why was he still in a coma?

“I knew you were simply a wimp... you can't even fight for your life, so why jump in front of a bullet?” I snapped.

“What is the use of that hard exterior you always flaunt now?” I glared at his unconscious body before turning away from him.

“I should put a bullet into your head now, shouldn't I?” I said before my eyes met the monitor connected to him.

“I could pull the wires out of you, nobody will question me,” I smiled bitterly.

“You were never really anybody… just another guard dog dead... no one would flinch,” I scoffed.

But I didn't go through with it.

I left... my heart feeling strangely heavy.

(One week before the wedding)

A week later, Papa called me into his office.

“Sit down, Giuliana,” he ordered.

Something was wrong.

My heart pounded.

“What is it?" I said immediately I walked into his office. "I was busy when you called,” I asked, sitting down.

“Too busy for your papa?” His words were meant to be light-hearted, but his expression remained stoic.

“No, papa.”

“Emiliano will never wake up, he's gone,” he said, his eyes boring into mine. He tried to weigh my reaction, but I practiced closing off all emotions to show him I gave no sh*t about Emiliano’s condition.

“I've found you a new suitor,” he finished.

“Papa…” I said softly, not wanting to argue with him but still confused about why he was so adamant about marrying me off.

“He's nothing like Emiliano. He's everything you might have dreamed of… a man you have a loving past with,” he assured me. I stared at him, wondering who it was this time.

I had never been allowed to have a relationship with any man since I turned a ripe age, so I was confused by who the man papa claimed I had a ‘lovely past’ with.

"Emiliano isn't even dead yet... why are you doing this?" My voice sounded tired.

"I just want the best for you."

Papa slipped a file towards me. “There in that file is all the information you need to know about your future husband."

I opened the file to see a man who I recognized the moment my eyes landed on his picture.

Vincenzo Rossi.

A distant cousin I thought had died years ago.

“He never died. The Rossi's never escaped during the Russian war in Mexico then. But Vincenzo was part of the few survivors. He served as a prisoner to the Russian for five years before he escaped with two other Italian men.”

Oh.

“But he's—he's family. Is that even legal?"

“He was never family. He's Emiliano's half-brother.”

“What?—How?" I immediately jumped off my seat. Papa was pushing the line.

First it was Emiliano, who I had never even met before he introduced us. Now it was his half-brother.

"You can't keep doing this, papa... this is my life!" I cried.

“Do I have to remind you why you should not defy me?” he asked without looking at me. I immediately shut my mouth.

“He's Emiliano's half-brother, so that means you're still getting married to Giovanni's family.”

“Why are they so important?” I gritted out.

“They are the only ones who know how to get to your mum's murderer.”

I swear my heart stopped.

Papa wouldn't lie about such a thing. It wasn't in his nature.

If this was what it took to seek justice for mama, I was ready to run to the altar.

I stood up from my seat, promising to go through my new fiancé's profile.

Just as I closed the door to his study, I heard Papa talk to someone on his phone.

I turned to leave, but then I heard something that made my body go stiff.

“You know, my Giuliana was born stillborn... no one thought she would survive and talk more of living this long,” papa told the other person on the line. “She must not know about her past.”

No one had ever revealed this to me. Not even Mama, and now I get to find out that I'm standing right here on a pure miracle or was it something else?

I turned back to go confront Papa, but then I stopped abruptly. Donatello Morano would never reveal a secret he wasn't ready for. It would be no use confronting him about it.

What happened in the past?

(The wedding day)

The wedding arrived faster than I could realize the breaking of the day.

Emiliano was still lying almost lifeless in the clinic.

I stood at the altar in the most elegant dress I had ever seen, its bodice grabbing me in all the right places, my curves looking more luscious than ever.

I looked like the typical rich mafia princess.

“You look breathtaking,” Vincenzo whispered in my ear as I stood beside him, his breath tickling the hairs on my neck.

We had hung out a few times before now, and our interaction with each other was very seamless.

But still, I couldn't help the feeling that there was something missing.

With Emiliano, it was like walking on fire. Every collision with him there was a spark of electricity surging through me, whether it was due to pure anger or something fiercer.

But with Vincenzo, it was just like the calm of a sea. A stagnant sea. There was merely nothing to look forward to.

“Thank you,” I smiled back at him, noticing how he looked even more handsome in the gray suit.

“You should back out of this wedding now,” I started to say. “I'll never give myself fully to you.”

“I'm not your enemy here. If you're still thinking about Emiliano, he's dead... he's never going to be the one to put a ring on your finger,” he turned his head to the podium. “I'm the best you can get.”

He had guts, alright.

The priest recited our vows and asked us to pledge them to each other.

Emiliano—I mean Vincenzo took my hand, “I, Vincenzo Rossi, take you as my wife, to love and to protect you, until I die,” he said, a bright smile plastered on his face.

It was all fake, I could tell.

I hesitated for what felt like hours before I responded back. “I, Giuliana Morano, take you as my husband to love and respect you, until I die,” I said, trying to match the smile on his face.

I wanted to run. But outside the church, there were guards heavily armed with guns.

The priest looked down at us, a small smile on his face, before looking back up.

“If there's anyone who objects to this union, he/she may speak or forever hold their peace,” the priest spoke into the mic.

The silence in the church stretched for minutes, everybody stuck to their seats.

The priest cleared his throat, ready to move on.

“I hereby pronounce you—” a loud bang interrupted him, the whole guest erupting into loud gasps.

And there he was, standing bloodied, a gun wrapped limply to his side and his other hand pressed to his chest.

He looked like a devil who had just risen from the dead, ready to snatch every beating heart in the room.

“No,” Emiliano's raspy voice rang out, distressed and in pain.

Everyone stood frozen, staring at the man who was supposed to be unconscious or even dead.

“What the hell are you doing?” Papa's voice thundered, echoing around the four corners of the church.

Emiliano staggered forward, his eyes locked on me, burning with an intensity that made my heart race. “You can’t marry him,” he gasped, blood seeping through his fingers as he clutched his wound. “Giuliana… not him.”

The crowd erupted into whispers, and Vincenzo’s grip on my hand tightened, his calm facade cracking. “You’re supposed to be dead,” he snarled, stepping toward his half-brother.

Emiliano’s gaze shifted to Papa, his voice low but firm. “Donatello, you know why this wedding can’t happen. Tell her… or I will.”

Papa’s face paled, his eyes darting between Emiliano and me. The church fell silent, the weight of Emiliano’s words hanging heavy. For the first time, I saw something in Papa’s expression I’d never seen before—fear. He raised a hand, signaling the guards to stand down, and took a step forward.

“Enough,” Papa said, his voice strained, trying to regain control. “Emiliano… you’re alive. That changes things.” He glanced at Vincenzo, then back at me, his tone softening. “Perhaps… we should reconsider. Emiliano was your intended, after all.”

The words hit me like a slap. Reconsider? Just like that, he was ready to pass me back to Emiliano, as if I were a piece of property to be traded. My blood boiled. I was done being a pawn in their games, tossed between men like a commodity. Vincenzo’s hand fell from mine, his face unreadable, while Emiliano’s eyes pleaded with me, but I barely saw them.

“No!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. Every eye turned to me as I reached beneath the folds of my dress, pulling out a small pistol I’d hidden there for protection. Gasps echoed through the church as I raised it, not to Emiliano, not to Vincenzo, not to Papa—but to my own temple.

“Giuliana!” Papa’s voice cracked, his composure shattering.

“If you give my hand to Emiliano,” I said, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hand, “I’ll blow my brains out right here. I’m not your puppet anymore, Papa. I won’t marry him, or Vincenzo, or anyone you choose. This ends now.”

The church was deathly silent, the weight of my threat sinking in. Papa’s eyes widened, his hands raised as if to calm me, but I saw the panic beneath his facade. Vincenzo froze, his bravado gone, while Emiliano’s face twisted with something like anguish.

“Giuliana, ” Emiliano growled, his voice stronger than steel. “You don’t understand… there’s more to this. Your father—”

“Put the gun down, Giuliana,” Papa said, interrupting Emiliano, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “We’ll talk. No one’s forcing you to do anything.”

But I didn’t lower the gun. Not yet. My eyes locked on his, searching for the truth he’d buried.