It takes considerable restraint not to give a snort of acknowledgment. The don’s actions spoke well enough for themselves before I ever set foot in this house, but witnessing it firsthand after a week, I most definitely know what Gio is talking about.
“The staff have always been good to us, but whenever the don thought we were being coddled, he fired the person for getting too emotionally involved. Said it would make us weak.”
“That sounds like a lonely upbringing,” I observe, and it explains a lot about their borderline hostile behavior. The Chiaroscuro brothers have been trained to expect detachment and impermanence—especially when it comes to women. But Gio seems… less like that. He keeps to himself, sure, but he doesn’t make me feel like I’m in his way. In fact, he’s made a point of connecting with me today. “So, how did you end up nice when all the rest of the Chiaroscuros seem to border on being sociopaths?” I joke, though the more I learn about their family dynamics, the more curious I become.
Gio gives a low chuckle, then his expression shifts, his shoulders dropping, his brows pressing together as the corners of his lips curve into a sad smile. The deep pain that fills his eyes makes my heart twist.
“I had a rare woman once,” he says softly. “She taught me a lot about becoming a man.”
“What happened to her?” I murmur, sensing his loss is still a festering wound.
“She was killed a long time ago,” he says, his eyes dropping to the leather-bound book in his hands. “But I never stopped loving her. She shaped the man I am today. I have her to thank for so many things.”
My chest squeezes at the sadness rolling off Gio in waves. I want nothing more than to reach out to him, but that would be inappropriate.
“I think you might be able to do the same for Leo,” he says suddenly, lifting his hazel gaze to meet mine once more. And the light in his eyes is kind and warm. “He might be an ass sometimes, but he cares more deeply than he would like to admit.”
Heat warms my cheeks as I wonder if he means Leo cares more about me or the world at large. Either way, as much as I would like to believe him, I’m not so sure it’s true. If anything, Leo seems to hate the world—and me most of all. But I appreciate Gio’s support and the fact that he would grant me the same esteem he has for this woman he fell so deeply in love with.
“Thank you, Gio. Really. You’re the first person I’ve felt like I could talk to around here, and it means a lot.”
Gio chuckles as he reaches out to pat my shoulder. “I can’t promise it’ll get easier, but you’re family now. If you need something, let me know.”
A relieved laugh rushes from me, and I smile for what feels like the first time in months.
“What the hell is going on in here?”
All the tension that had left my body comes flooding back, and my shoulders bunch as I slowly turn to find Leo standing inthe library doorway, his brown eyes molten and his expression thunderous.
“Gio and I were just talking, getting to know each other a little,” I say, anxiety bubbling up inside me because the explanation doesn’t seem to be calming Leo’s anger.
“Well, don’t,” he growls, his eyes shifting to Gio’s. “If you want a wife, Brother, get your own.”
“It wasn’t like th?—”
“Go to our suite, Sora,” he commands, cutting me off. “I’ll deal with you once I’m done having a word with my little brother.”
Oh, God, what have I done?
I glance fearfully toward Gio, who gives me a curt nod, but that only escalates Leo.
“Go!” he snarls, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
Heart in my throat, I race from the room, my feet carrying me toward our wing of the house even as my mind screams that I should be getting the hell out of here.
16
LEO
I know nothing would happen between Gio and Sora in a million years. She didn’t appear to be openly flirting with him in the first place, but I know that Gio would never cross that line. He’s not only the sole Chiaroscuro in possession of a solid moral compass, but I also know he’s still in love with Stephanie, even though she’s been gone for nearly eight years. Most days, I feel sorry for him.
But it rankles to see him forming a more amicable connection with my wife than I’ve developed—even if I’ve had the opportunity but chose to keep her at an arm’s length.
“You need to back off, Gio,” I warn darkly, my hands fisting as I work to keep my famously Italian temper under control.
“You can’t be serious,” he says, his calm only stoking the flames of my anger.
“If I wanted my wife to get close with my brothers, I think I would have made a point of ensuring it, don’t you?” I state.
