And most damning of all is that she won’t quite meet my eyes anymore. That direct, fearless gaze that first captivated me has been replaced by something more guarded and careful. Like she’s constantly wondering what I might notice, what might give her away.
Like she’s planning something.
The paranoia I thought I’d moved past comes roaring back and sinks its claws into me. I’ve seen this before. I know what it looks like when someone’s preparing to betray you, when they’re building an exit strategy while maintaining the facade of loyalty.
Is she planning to escape? The thought makes my stomach turn even as my mind races through logistics. She could contact Katie somehow, arrange for help outside my knowledge. She could have been using those disappearances to scout the property for weaknesses in security. She could be coordinating with?—
With who? Who would help her? Who even knows she’s here that would have the resources and motivation to mount a rescue?
The questions spiral through my mind, feeding the growing dread in my chest. Because despite everything I’ve told myself about trust and love and our future, the evidence is undeniable.
Gigi is keeping secrets.
And in my world, secrets are how people get killed.
“I need you to increase surveillance on Gigi,” I tell Danny in my office the next morning, hating every word that comes out of my mouth.
He looks up from his phone where he was typing out a message, his eyes widening with surprise. “Boss?—”
“Just do it.” I cut him off before he can argue. “I want to know everywhere she goes, everyone she talks to, everything she does when she thinks no one’s watching.”
“Why?” Danny’s voice carries concern rather than judgment, but it still grates. “What’s going on?”
“She’s acting strange.” I move to the window, staring out at the grounds. Gigi is probably in the sunroom right now, doing god knows what. “Secretive. Avoiding certain things. Disappearing for periods I can’t account for.”
Danny sets his phone down and stands up. “So she’s acting like someone adjusting to a complicated situation,” he observes carefully, approaching me. “Not necessarily like someone planning to betray you.”
I whirl on him, rage and fear tangling into something toxic. “I know what betrayal looks like, Danny,” I snarl, my heart racing. “I know the signs. And she’s displaying every single one of them.”
“Or,” he says slowly, talking to me like I’m losing my mind, “you’re seeing what you expect to see because you’re terrified of losing her.”
I grit my teeth. “That’s not it.”
“Isn’t it?” His green eyes are sharp, cutting through my bullshit with the precision of someone who’s known me too long to be fooled. “You’re in love with her, which means you’re vulnerable in ways you haven’t been since Marco died. And vulnerability terrifies you, so you’re looking for evidence that she’s going to hurt you before you let yourself get hurt.”
“I’m beingpractical,” I snap, even though his assessment stings with its accuracy. “She’s keeping secrets, Danny. She’slyingabout where she’s been and what she’s doing. That’s not paranoia—that’s observable fact.”
“Then talk to her.” The suggestion is so simple it makes me want to scream. “Ask her what’s going on instead of increasing surveillance like she’s a hostile asset.”
But I can’t. Asking means admitting I’ve noticed, which means tipping my hand. Because asking means making myself vulnerable to whatever lie she might tell and means potentially confirming that everything I’ve built with her is nothing but sand waiting to wash away.
“Just increase the surveillance,” I repeat. “I want someone watching her at all times. No blind spots, no gaps in coverage.”
Danny sighs heavily, disappointment evident in every line of his face. “You’re going to push her away, boss. You’re going to turn into who you were before you got to know her, and she’s going to prove you right about not trusting her because you gave her no choice.”
“Then I’ll deal with that when it happens.” I turn back to the window, dismissing him. “Until then, I need to know what she’s planning.”
He leaves without another word, and I’m alone with my thoughts and the uncomfortable realization that I’m becoming my father after all.
My father, who trusted no one and saw betrayal in every shadow and treated my mother like an enemy requiring constant surveillance. He drove her to pills and alcohol and eventually death because he couldn’t believe that anyone could actually love him.
I’m doing the same thing to Gigi. I can see it clearly even as I can’t seem to stop myself. The love I feel for her is being corrupted by fear, twisted into something possessive and controlling that will destroy us both.
But I can’t stop. Because the alternative—trusting her blindly while she potentially plans to leave me—feels like volunteering for annihilation.
So I increase security. I have Danny assign additional guards to monitor her movements. I restrict her access to certain areas of the estate under the guise of “security concerns” following some vague threat I manufacture. I make sure someone is always watching and reporting back to me.
And I watch Gigi’s frustration grow with each new restriction.
