The Godfather Was Too Proud to Love Me, So I Walked Away Chapter 12

The Godfather Was Too Proud to Love Me, So I Walked Away Chapter 12

Serena came too.

She was working within the Vitale family business now, having dropped the half-dead beauty account for good. Maybe it was genetics, but her style was remarkably similar to Mr. Vitale’s. She had actually adapted well to the way things worked on the underground side of the operation.

When she walked over, we both looked a little awkward.

She spoke first.

“I’m sorry. For everything before.”

I looked at her for a moment. Then I said what needed to be said.

“The part where you owed me-we’re even now.”

“As for whatever you think the world owes you-don’t come collecting from me.”

Serena was quiet for a long time. Then she nodded.

We didn’t hug. We didn’t suddenly become loving sisters.

I didn’t see the need.

Some people can exist peacefully in each other’s lives, and that’s already more than enough.

Near the end of the party, a brand executive I had been working with came over and asked me to dinner the

next day.

He was good-looking. And he wasn’t being subtle.

I turned around after the conversation and immediately spotted Renzo standing a few feet away.

Face sour, Naturally.

I walked over to him on purpose.

“Nothing to say?”

“About what?”

“Back in the day, if another guy so much as looked at me, your mood would be ruined for twenty-four hours.”

“It’s ruined right now.”

“So you’re not going to do anything about it?”

Renzo glanced at the man who had just been talking to me. He was clearly fighting every instinct he had.

But all he said was: “Who you spend your time with is your choice.”

That actually caught me off guard.

More than any sweet words could have.

He wasn’t going to control my life. But he was still waiting.

Later, the school offered me a two-year overseas project.

I genuinely wavered.

My brand had just launched domestically. Coming back made obvious sense for business. But that project

was in the exact direction I had always wanted to go.

When Renzo found out, he sent me a document. Fifteen pages.

A full comparative analysis of both options.

On the last page, he had circled the overseas project.

I called him immediately.

“You want me to stay abroad?”

Two seconds of silence on the other end.

“No.”

“Then why are you telling me to go?”

“Because it’s the better fit for you.”

A pause. Then, quietly: “Odette, I used to spend all my time figuring out how to make you stay.”

“Now I think where you go should be your decision.”

I went.

Two years.

Renzo didn’t try to stop me.

He just started researching flight schedules the next day and ended up making the trip almost every month.

I told him he was being annoying.

“Doesn’t Mr. Ferraro have a company to run?”

“I do.”

“Then why are you here?”

He dropped his suitcase in my living room like he owned the place.

“You think chasing someone doesn’t cost anything?”

I had no comeback.

Two years later, I came home for good.

After the launch event for my brand’s new collection, a staff member led me to a conference room with a

conspicuous air of mystery.

The door opened.

Renzo.

In front of him sat a dark blue velvet box.

He opened it.

Inside was a watch.

Nearly identical to the one I had destroyed all those years ago.

I froze for a few seconds, then picked it up and turned it over.

“Renzo Ferraro belongs to Odette Vitale. Valid for life.”

Below that, in much smaller script:

“Renzo Ferraro has agreed to the terms. Requesting long-term companionship.”

I stared at it for a long time. The corners of my mouth started rising on their own.

Renzo sat across from me, looking calm on the surface, but his fingers kept tapping the edge of the table.

“It’s been two years.”

I looked up.

“And?”

“Can I get the full-time position?”

I said nothing on purpose.

His tapping got noticeably faster.

Watching him sweat was deeply, profoundly satisfying.

Nineteen years.

It was finally his turn.

I placed the watch back in the box.

Renzo’s face fell, degree by degree.

I borrowed the exact tone from the day I had stormed into his office all those years ago, and let the words

come out slow.

“Renzo.”

He looked up.

“I’m giving you one more chance to earn me.”

His eyes lit up like someone had flipped a switch.

I held up a single finger before he could move.

“To be clear-this is a probationary boyfriend position.”

As it happened, I was willing to love him one more time.

But only this once.