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The deal appeared to be wrapping up without a hitch and perhaps that confidence was where everything went wrong, Bucciarati would decide in retrospect.
To be honest, it should have been a red flag when their potential business partner had insisted on meeting on a boat off the coast instead of anywhere more reasonable like a park or a restaurant.
"It will be a pleasure doing business with you," Giorno said amiably as he shook the man's hand and Bucciarati moved in to do the same.
"Likewise," the man said, turning to his secretary who came over with the agreement papers. Giorno picked up the pen and glanced over them briefly.
"However," the man continued and Bruno looked up sharply, feeling an abrupt shift in the conversation. "My counter is that we are allowed to use the ports for our own purposes as well—not just moving the goods for Passione."
Giorno frowned. "That was not the agreement we discussed."
"I know. We're discussing it now." The man's voice hardened significantly. "You are a child and do not fully understand business. Your crusade against the drug trade is a childish fancy that will ruin your organization."
"You might see it that way," Giorno spoke sternly. "But the truth is we will be making just as much with these new trade routs. I have spent the last several months cultivating partnerships all across the Mediterranean coast. I offered you a top spot in the trading profits and now you would apparently throw those away in fear of progress. Who is the true fool here, signore?"
The tension on the boat was palpable. Bruno felt Sticky Fingers rippling underneath his skin, ready for the man to make a move. However the man sighed, looking more disappointed than anything.
"I am sorry that we will not be able to make this deal then, Signore Giovanna. It will be tragic indeed to have to report your accident to the rest of Passione."
"Accident?" Bucciarati snapped, but before he could react, some trap was sprung, ropes coming out of nowhere to snap around Giorno ripping him from the deck to sink directly into the ocean below with barely time for a cry of surprise, followed by a splash.
"Giorno!" Bucciarati shouted, rushing toward the railing before he heard the sound of a gun cocking.
"Unfortunately, Bucciarati, you'll have to meet with an accident as well. How tragic it would be for the loyal capo to drown while trying to rescue his Don?"
Bucciarati was not having this though, and called out his Stand. "Sticky Fingers!"
The Stand appeared and punched through the deck of the boat, unzipping it from deck to hull with a rending crack.
The traitors cried out, staggering as the boat was literally broken in half.
Bucciarati was already diving into the ocean where Giorno had disappeared, knifing through the water like a fish, well-practiced in the art from his youth on the water.
He could see the blurry shape of Giorno below, sinking slowly.
Bruno swam as quickly as he could, making up the distance. He could feel the pressure in his ears and swallowed to clear them, before pushing further down.
He finally reached Giorno, grabbing him under the arms and manifesting Sticky Fingers again to free him of the weight currently dragging them both further down.
Once it was gone, Bruno wrapped one arm around Giorno's chest and swam them both back up to the surface.
Once he broke through, Bruno gasped for breath, choking as the waves battered his face. He shook his head to get his hair out of his face and glance over to Giorno who was a limp weight in his arms, and had worryingly not started choking up water.
"Giorno," Bruno coughed, pulling his head above water and pressing his wet cheek to Giorno's mouth.
Worry gnawed at him as he couldn't feel any breath and he started to look around.
Debris from the boat were floating everywhere and Bruno spotted one bit of hull floating nearby and struck out for that, gripping Giorno by the collar as he swam them both over to it.
He heaved Giorno up first, then climbed up after, calling out Sticky Fingers yet again to remove the ropes still wrapped around Giorno's body.
Bruno hauled Giorno further onto the plank and again checked him before he determinedly started to administer CPR, frantically recalling what he had learned from one of his father's friends back when he was a child.
He briefly opened Giorno's mouth to check for blockages to his windpipe, then tilted his head back. Finally, hands locked on Giorno's thin chest, he fought to push the water from his lungs as the blond lay there, limp and pale, moving only from the force of the compressions Bruno was administering.
After counting out what he hoped were the appropriate amount of compressions he bent to breathe into Giorno's mouth, pinching his nose shut. Then it was back to compressions.
"Come on, Giorno," he pleaded. "Come on. I'm not going to let you die by drowning from a deal gone wrong."
He finished the second set and bent to breathe more air into Giorno's lungs.
This time, Giorno came alive under him with a full body convulsion, water bubbling from his mouth.
Bruno instantly pulled back and rolled Giorno onto his side, patting his back firmly as he coughed up the water between ragged gasps for breath.
"There you go, get it all up," Bruno coaxed, rubbing his bruised chest as well in encouragement. "You'll be okay."
Giorno finally stopped hacking and was able to breathe again, flopping onto his back. Bruno leaned over him to shield him from the sun and Giorno finally opened his eyes, lips parting weakly.
"Thanks," he croaked, throat flayed by the salt water.
"Don't try to talk right now," Bruno murmured kindly, checking him over.
Giorno brought a hand weakly to his chest, wincing as he coughed again. "Ow."
"It's not pleasant, I know," Bruno told him as he helped him sit up so he could more easily cough up the remnants of the water. "But you'll start to feel better in a little bit."
Giorno groaned and looked around at the wreckage that littered the water around them.
"A rather unfortunate end to the deal," he rasped.
Bucciarati let out a wry chuckle. "Well, if we're being honest, I never liked him anyway."
Giorno laughed until he started coughing again, leaving Bruno to have to support him as he got his breath back.
"I guess now we just have to figure out how to get back to shore," Bruno mused, looking around at the wreckage.
Luckily a fisherman came along and offered them a ride to shore. Neither Giorno nor Bruno were willing to elaborate on what had happened to the boat and thus a new tale was told in the fishing village about giant squids to this day.