Chapter 3 A Price

“I’m glad you came. Have a seat” Giovonni turned slowly to face him and pointed at the couch in his study room, his voice low, almost inviting. It felt like a trap, every word thick with control. His lips curled into a smile, though Nico could see the sharpness in his eyes, the way they never quite lost that dangerous glint. Nico didn’t say anything. His fists clenched at his sides, anger rising at the thought of Giovanni thinking he could own him like some sort of prized possession. He could already feel the manipulation in the air. Giovanni was trying to get under his skin, but Nico wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. “I don't need your approval,” Nico said sharply. “I’m not here for that.” Giovanni’s smile barely flickered, but his eyes grew more intense. “Of course. Let’s get to the point. I’m offering you more money than you’ve ever made. More than that bar could ever give you. I can make you a name. I can give you the life you’ve always dreamed of.” The words hit Nico like a slap, but he kept his composure. The thought of working for Giovanni, of selling his soul for money and fame, made his stomach churn. He clenched his jaw, trying to resist the anger bubbling up inside him. “I don’t need your money,” Nico said coldly. “And I don’t want your offers. Not now, not ever.” Was this to make up for his harsh aura the last time they met? Giovanni studied him for a moment, his gaze narrowing. There was no real surprise in his eyes—Giovanni had expected the rejection. The offer hadn’t been about money; it had been a test. He was seeing how far Nico would push back before he broke. “You think you’re better than that, don’t you?” Giovanni said, his tone smooth, almost like a purr. “You think you’re too good to work for someone like me. But I’ve seen you play, Nico. You’re talented. And your talent deserves more than being wasted in that dive bar.” Nico’s skin prickled. He hated the way Giovanni spoke about Marco’s bar, like it was beneath him like it didn’t matter. It was home. It was everything he had left. “I don’t need your validation,” Nico said stiffly. “I don’t need your money, and I don’t need your empty promises. I’m not going to work for you.” Giovanni stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, like the room was getting smaller with every step he took. He leaned in, lowering his voice in a tone that was both enticing and dangerous. “You say that now, but you’ll come around. I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted. Fame. Fortune. A real future. All you have to do is say yes.” Nico’s heart hammered in his chest, but he refused to back down. He couldn’t. Not after everything Giovanni had done to Marco. Not after everything he had taken. But then Giovanni’s voice softened, and he dropped a bombshell. “Marco will still be working at the bar, by the way.” The words hit Nico like a rush of cold air. His body froze for a second, and a wave of confusion and relief washed over him. “What?” Nico asked, almost incredulously. “Marco is still there?” Giovanni smirked, his gaze calculating. “Of course. Marco may not be in charge anymore, but he still runs the bar. I made sure of that.” His smile widened as if he knew exactly how much the news would affect Nico. “I like having him around. He still works the day-to-day, making sure everything stays in line. But, make no mistake—he works for me now.” Nico’s heart stuttered in his chest, the relief almost overwhelming. Marco wasn’t out of the picture. He wasn’t completely crushed by Giovanni. Marco was still at the bar, still keeping things going, still running the show in his way, even if Giovanni was pulling the strings. A rush of mixed emotions flooded Nico—relief, yes, but also resentment. Giovanni wasn’t doing this out of kindness. He was doing it because he liked the control it gave him. Marco might still be working at the bar, but he was living under Giovanni’s thumb. Nico’s voice trembled with the fight to keep his anger under control. “You don’t get to control Marco’s life. You don’t get to turn him into your puppet.” Giovanni’s expression turned colder, and he took a step back. “I’m not controlling him. I’m giving him a chance to stay involved. To keep doing what he loves. And you’ll see. In time, you’ll appreciate the opportunity I’m offering you.” Nico’s hands clenched at his sides as he glared at Giovanni. He could feel his heart racing, his emotions threatening to boil over. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was part of him that was tempted—tempted by the promise of something more, of escaping this small life he had, of maybe helping Marco in some way. But he knew that was just Giovanni’s game. He couldn’t fall for it. “I’m not your puppet, Giovanni,” Nico said firmly, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. “I won’t work for you. Not now, not ever.” Giovanni's eyes had a quiet understanding in his eyes. “Take your time, Nico. But don’t take too long. You know where to find me.” Nico walked toward the door, his mind a whirlwind. He had come here to resist Giovanni’s grip, but now, it felt impossible to walk away. The choice was no longer simple. As Nico reached the door, Giovanni’s voice stopped him. “And Nico?” Nico turned, his breath caught in his throat. “If you refuse me, everything you’ve worked for, everything you care about… will disappear.” Giovanni’s voice was low, barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of a promise. Nico felt a cold shiver run down his spine. He wasn’t sure if he could walk away from this. The door clicked shut behind him, and Nico was left standing in the dark hallway, a thousand questions swirling in his head.