Love and War. (BWWM)

Chapter 9

Corinna hair and outfit

As we park near the Giordano estate, a veil of darkness shrouds our intentions. Aware of their habits, we know they've ordered pizza. One of our men, disguised as a delivery guy, is ready for his role. I sit in the car with Vinnie, my eyes scanning the surroundings, ready to alert at the slightest sign of trouble.

The doorbell rings, and the tension heightens. The pizza delivery disguise works like a charm; the Giordanos unsuspectingly receive the "delivery." It's a precarious dance, a choreography of deception.

Vinnie glances at me, his eyes reflecting concern. "Corinna, be patient. Let them make the first move."

The door opens, and the plan is set into motion. My father's men initiate the onslaught, gunfire erupting in the night. Panic ensues, and I lock eyes with Vinnie, a silent exchange acknowledging the gravity of the situation.

As I watch my father on the front lines, a surge of concern courses through me. Vinnie reassures me, "They're professionals, Corinna. They know what they're doing."

But as the chaos unfolds, I can't stay confined in the car. I step out, my silhouette blending into the shadows. Adorned in my signature black coat, glasses, hat, and face mask, I move with purpose, my senses heightened.

Vinnie advises against it, but my resolve remains unyielding. As I witness my father taking a hit, a surge of adrenaline propels me forward. "Oh hell no," I mutter under my breath.

Gun in hand, I join the fray. In the orchestrated chaos, the Giordanos are brought to their knees. The message is clear-they've crossed a line that can't be uncrossed.

As the last echoes of gunfire fade, I reach my father. He's wounded but alive. We retreat, leaving the Giordano estate in disarray.

Back in the safety of the car, I glance at Vinnie. "They needed to know we're not to be fucked with."

He nods in understanding, and I change my voice slightly before muttering, "This is just the beginning. Let them unravel the mystery."

In the dim light of the car, I contemplate the aftermath. The night is a canvas painted with the repercussions of our actions, and as we drive away, the Da Luca legacy stands firm against the shadows of revenge. In the dimly lit room, I guide my father to his bed, the weariness evident in his eyes. He gives me a grateful nod, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken understanding between us. I help him settle, ensuring he's comfortable before we engage in a conversation that echoes with both the weight of our shared history and the anticipation of the future.

"Thanks, Corinna," he says, his voice carrying the fatigue of the night's endeavors.

I take a moment to glance at the corner of the room where Chauncy, our Rottweiler, lies. Despite his imposing presence, especially to those unaware of his gentle nature, he's a devoted companion. His eyes follow my every move, a silent guardian in the shadows.

As my father rests, I pull up a chair, the creaking sound breaking the silence. "You did well tonight," I offer, knowing that acknowledgment in our world is often found in actions rather than words.

His gaze meets mine, a mixture of gratitude and paternal pride. "You too, Corinna. You've got a keen eye for these situations."

I nod, the unspoken understanding between us a testament to the intricate dance we've perfected over the years. We talk about the night's events, dissecting the intricacies of the revenge we orchestrated against the Giordanos. Amidst the discussions, I drop a casual mention.

"Oh, by the way, I have a date," I say, injecting a note of nonchalance into the revelation.

His tired eyes widen slightly, a flicker of surprise dancing in them. "A date? Well, that's a change of pace."

I chuckle, enjoying the rare moment of levity in our otherwise serious conversations. "Yeah, thought I'd mix things up a bit."

As we share this brief respite from our responsibilities, the room is filled not only with the hushed tones of our conversation but also the steady breathing of Chauncy. He's a sentinel, a silent witness to the complexities of our lives, his presence a source of comfort in the midst of our clandestine world.

The next day unfolds with a certain calmness, a deceptive tranquility that belies the intricacies of our world. I prepare for the evening, choosing an outfit that strikes a balance between elegance and the pragmatic awareness that my reality demands. My father, ever the enigma, is watching "The Godfather" in the living room. He calls it a comedy, finding humor in the fictionalized portrayal of a world we navigate with a very different set of rules.

I approach him, my steps deliberate, and check on the wound from the previous night. His resilience is unwavering, a trait I've come to admire and inherit. "You sure you're okay, Dad?" I ask, my concern veiled in casual conversation.

He grins, a wry smile that speaks volumes. "Corinna, my dove, I've been through worse. This is just a scratch."

Satisfied with his response, I lean in to kiss his forehead. "Just making sure, old man."

As I head towards the door, he playfully calls out, "Bring me back some cannoli if you find a good bakery."

Vinnie is waiting outside, a silent guardian ready to escort me to my date. The car ride is filled with the unspoken understanding between us. His vigilant gaze mirrors the protective concern that lingers in my father's eyes.

Arriving at the destination, I step out of the car, my attire reflecting the duality of my existence-a sophisticated mask concealing the complexities beneath. The night awaits, and as I enter this new chapter, I carry with me the echoes of my family's legacy, a legacy that intertwines love and war in ways only a Da Luca can comprehend. Amidst the elegant ambiance of the restaurant, Leo and I engage in a delicate dance of words, each sentence revealing a layer of our fabricated lives.

Leo raises an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Corinne, you must have some interesting stories. What's the most adventurous thing you've ever done?"

I chuckle, swirling the wine in my glass. "Oh, you know, the usual-skydiving over the Amalfi Coast, that kind of thing. What about you, Leo? Any thrilling escapades?"

He smirks, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Well, I did once crash a society gala. Walked in like I owned the place. It was exhilarating."

Our laughter resonates, blending seamlessly with the ambient sounds of the restaurant. As the night progresses, the initial façade begins to blur, replaced by an unspoken understanding. The chemistry between us deepens, and our conversation becomes a subtle dance of shared secrets.

Leo leans in, his voice a low murmur. "Corinne, there's something about you that's captivating. It's like you're living in a world different from the one you present."

I meet his gaze, a hint of mystery in my eyes. "Aren't we all, Leo? Life is a stage, and we play our roles."

Our banter takes on a flirtatious undertone, a magnetic pull drawing us closer. A touch here, a lingering gaze there-each moment adds to the intricate web of connection we're weaving. In this charade of normalcy, Leo and I find ourselves entangled in a dance of deception and desire.

And as the evening draws to a close, we step out into the night, the city lights reflecting in Leo's eyes. The unspoken question hangs in the air-will this connection survive the concealed truths that bind us, or is it just another ephemeral spark in the intricate tapestry of our lives?