“Well then,” she giggles. “Guess that answers my next question if you two are fucking or not.”
I blush deeply, cringing. “Chiara!”
She rolls her eyes. “Dove, we’re adults. And I think sisters are mandated by law to talk about these things.”
I sigh. “It’s…complicated.”
“Well,complicatedhas a nice little flush to your cheeks and sway to your hips, in case no one's told you. And trust me,complicatedis better than my situation.”
My face falls as I picture Gio Ferrari.
“Do you have to…?”
She makes a barf face. “Fuck him? Oh, Jesus, no.No.” Her nose wrinkles. “Can you imagine? How do you even have sex with Jabba the Hutt? I mean physically.”
I snort loudly, laughing at the gross visual.
“No, Gio would much rather pay professionals to screw him, which is fine with me.” She eyes me. “Trust me, Dove, you won the lottery with your situation.”
I smile privately. “I…don’t know about that. Well, maybe, I guess.”
“Maybe?!” She rolls her eyes. “Dove, please. A, he’s hot. B, he’s very hot.”
I laugh. “Okay, I get the picture.”
“And C?” She nods past me. I turn and flush when I realize Bane is staring right at me.
I’ve caught him doing that a lot since that night on the roof of the Empire State Building. Except most of the time, there’s been dark, malevolent flames flickering under the surface.
Like he’s convincing himself not to bury me alivequiteyet.
This time, the look on his face and burning in his eyes is entirely different.
It’s…warm. Still fierce and deadly, with that same almost eerie, unblinking focus. But it doesn't bring a shiver down my spine this time. No twinge of fear.
The way he’s looking at me right now is just purepossession.
“Dove.”
I blink, somehow pulling my eyes away from Bane and back to my half-sister. She lifts a brow, smiling quietly and shaking her head.
“C, I promise you, Gio doesn’t look at me like that. I don’t thinkanyguy has.”
Part of me wants to burst her bubble and tell her that he’s looking at me like that because he’s wondering the same thing I am.
If I did this.
If I'm guilty.
If I'm a killer.
Because if I’m capable of this—didI kill Lorenzo, too? Did I somehow get free and overpower him? Was I the one that cut his throat before Antonio and my father’s men riddled his body with bullets?
Chiara coughs delicately, and I feel a presence behind me. When I turn, my pulse jumps as I look up into Bane’s dark, all-consuming eyes.
They linger on me a moment, his gaze piercing right into me.
Not with accusation. It’s not a “what the fuck did you do” look.
