Giulietta Cavallo didn't get far.
The instant she bolted out of Agnelli's barbershop—pure panic, pure instinct—she managed all of half a block before reality, physics, and two highly trained bodyguards caught up with her.
[Literally. Impressive, no?]
"MISS—!" Dante's voice cracked like a whip behind her.
Giulietta pumped her legs harder. "Nope! Not today! Not dealing with this—!"
Her boot hit a patch of uneven sidewalk.
Her ankle wobbled.
The universe said no.
She pitched forward.
Strong arms caught her mid‑stumble before she could faceplant into the nearest lamp post. Again.
[Because apparently, lampposts were her mortal enemy today. I mean, how do you even run into one? They're huge!]
Dante released a long‑suffering sigh against her ear. "Miss, please. Stop running."
Valerio, the other guard, clamped a firm but gentle hand on her upper arm. "You're going home. Right now."
"Oh come ON!" Giulietta flailed uselessly as they hauled her upright. "You can't honestly expect me to—HEY! I'm not luggage! Unhand me with respect!"
Both men ignored her with the practiced numbness of people who had spent years wrangling a feral cat disguised as a mafia princess. They didn't speak, didn't scold, didn't utter even one sarcastic breath.
Dante was the louder of the two—broad‑shouldered, dark‑haired, all clenched jaw and visible worry—while the man on her other side said nothing. Valerio never did unless necessary. He was taller, leaner, sharp‑eyed, with the kind of stillness that made Giul far more nervous than Dante's barking ever could.
And that made Giulietta's stomach drop.
Dante only ever went silent when things were truly bad.
"Okay…" she whispered, breath unsteady as they marched her firmly toward the waiting sedan. "Okay, why are you two acting like the apocalypse just started? I tripped, not died."
Neither answered.
"Earth to Valerio? Dante? Hellooooo? Guys, come ON…. I need information!"
Not even a pity glance.
Giulietta's frustration curled inward into something tighter, colder. She dug her heels in. "Dante. Look at me."
He finally did.
And the fear in his eyes was not for himself.
Uh-oh… I know that look.
"Miss… you shouldn't have been seen."
Her throat tightened. "Seen by who?"
Dante shook his head. "I don't know. But someone did."
A shiver slid down her spine. "You've got to be pulling my leg, right? I mean who would-.."
They reached the sedan. One guard opened the door; the other guided her inside with a gentleness that only made the situation feel worse.
"Your parents want you home immediately," Dante said. "And… your mother, she uh— Well, she may have taken a drastic step."
The door shut. Valerio jumped in behind the wheel, Dante hopping in the opposite side.
The car pulled away from the curb.
Giulietta Cavallo had been dragged home many times in her life—but never like this.
Her bodyguards didn't say another word. Not one.
And that terrified her more than yelling ever could.
Dante, usually the chatty one, sat rigidly in the front passenger seat with the posture of a man escorting a live grenade. Valerio's eyes flicked obsessively between the road and the mirrors, as if snipers might rain from the rooftops.
[Which, honestly, was not comforting.]
"Can someone please explain why you're acting like I kicked the Pope?" Giulietta hissed, pressing closer to the door as the streets blurred past, considering another escape plan. "Or are we doing the whole silent-treatment-because-I'm-in-trouble thing? Because if so, ten out of ten, you're nailing it."
Neither guard responded.
Not even a sigh.
Giulietta's heart hammered against her ribs. "Okay, seriously—what is going on? This isn't normal."
Dante finally turned in his seat, and the expression on his face froze her blood.
It wasn't anger.
It was fear.
"Miss…" he said quietly, "your parents are… upset."
Giulietta groaned dramatically, flopping against the back of her seat, abandoning the idea of a second escape from the vehicle door. "My parents are always upset. Narrow it down."
Valerio shook his head, not even looking at her in the mirror. "This time is different."
"How different?" She slowly asked, skeptical, sitting up straight once again, leaning in a little toward the front.
The two men exchanged a glance—the kind people share when deciding who has to tell the patient they're dying.
Dante cleared his throat. "Your mother… called in the zie."
Giulietta stopped breathing. "…The aunties?" she whispered. "All of them?"
He nodded apologetically.
Giulietta slapped both hands over her face. "Oh, fantastic! Wonderful! Perfect! Why not resurrect Nonna while we're at it so everyone can yell at me!?"
She slumped back into the seat as the sedan wound toward the Cavallo villa.
She'd always known there would be consequences one day. Everyone in her family had drilled it into her head:
Being seen with the wrong person could start a war.
Being seen with the right person could end one.
Yet somehow, she had still managed to get seen with a Bernardi heir—by someone bold enough to slide a threat under a barbershop door.
She inhaled shakily.
"What did my parents even say?" she asked softly.
Dante hesitated. "They said… to bring you straight home."
Giulietta snorted. "That's it? No dramatic monologue? No threats of locking me in the villa until marriage? So they didn't just message me, but you guys too!?"
Dante shook his head, pointing to his earpiece, which had been muted on his end. "Miss…" Dante lowered his voice. "They didn't say it angrily. They said it… quietly."
Giulietta froze.
Quiet was worse.
Quiet meant danger.
Quiet meant planning.
Quiet meant the Cavallos were already preparing their next move, perhaps even her early funeral.
She pressed her forehead to the cool window.
The aunties are going to dismember me, I just know it.
[And for the first time that day, the narrator would like to report that Giulietta Cavallo was genuinely, sincerely worried.]
The world outside suddenly felt a lot less safe.
"This was supposed to be a normal day." She quietly spoke, more to herself than anything else.
Shopping. Music. No watchful eyes. No messages. No rules breathing down her neck.
Giulietta swallowed.
There was no such thing as normal anymore.
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©Lynnifer Ice 2026