“That you’re beautiful,” I say honestly, because at least that much is true. “And that watching you release Bambi might be the best thing I’ve witnessed in years.”
She blushes again. “It felt good. Really good. I’ve missed this—helping animals, fixing them, making a difference.” Her smile is radiant and hopeful. “And knowing that after the wedding I’ll be able to do this professionally again, that you’re going to help me build something even better than what I had before, means everything.”
Her voice breaks with emotion. Grateful and happy emotion.
She thinks I’m turning a new leaf. That I’m becoming the man Marco wanted me to be.
And I’m letting her believe it while struggling to carry the weight of what I plan to do.
“Thank you, Luca.” She reaches up to cup my face, and the tenderness in her touch is devastating. “For giving me hope again. For making me believe that maybe something good can come from all this.”
I can’t speak. I can’t force words past the guilt choking me. So I just pull her against my chest and hold on, trying not to think about how she’s thanking me for promises I don’t know if I can keep.
How she’s looking at me like I’m her salvation when I’m supposed to be her executioner.
We stand there in the dawn light, watching the place where Bambi disappeared into the woods, and the parallels are too painful to ignore. That deer was wounded, healed, and set free to live the life it was meant to live.
But Gigi?
Gigi is wounded and healing, yes. But freedom? A future? Those were never part of the original plan.
Three years. Three years I spent plotting Antonio Conti’s complete destruction, and making him watch his daughter die was supposed to be the crescendo. The ultimate revenge. The perfect justice for Marco’s death.
But now the thought of being the reason why this world has no Gigi Conti makes me physically sick.
How the fuck am I supposed to choose?
Marco’s memory demands justice. Demands that someone pay for his torture and death. Antonio Conti must suffer the way I’ve suffered.
But Gigi—God,Gigi—she’s become something I can’t categorize or compartmentalize. She’s not collateral damage in someone else’s war. She’s not even just Antonio’s daughter anymore.
She’sGigi. And I don’t know how to reconcile the woman in my arms with the role she was supposed to play in my revenge.
“We should head back,” she says against my chest, her voice still soft with happiness. “I want to document Bambi’s release in my notes, and then maybe we could have breakfast together? I’ve been teaching Ramirez how to make these Italian pastries my mother used to make, and?—”
She’s planning a future. Our future. Breakfasts and teaching my cook how to make pastries and all these small domestic moments that should feel trivial but instead feel monumental.
And I’m letting her plan it while knowing that once Viktor’s alliance is secure, I’m supposed to?—
I can’t even finish the thought.
“Yeah,” I manage, my voice rough. “Breakfast sounds good.”
She pulls back to smile at me, and the trust in her expression is like a knife between my ribs. She believes in me now. That I’m capable of being better, of choosing redemption over revenge.
And I want to be that man. I want to be worthy of that trust, that hope, that radiant smile.
But I don’t know if I can abandon three years of planning without betraying Marco’s memory. I don’t know if I can choose Gigi’s life over the justice I swore to deliver.
I don’t know if I’m capable of being anything other than the monster grief made me, no matter how badly I want to be.
As we walk back toward the estate hand in hand, Gigi chattering happily about her plans for the clinic I promised her, I’m drowning in the weight of what she doesn’t know.
And I’m too much of a coward to tell her the truth.
17
GIULIANA
