That was the plan. That was justice for Marco.
But the thought of carrying it out now—of harming Giuliana in any way—makes me physically ill. My stomach churns with it, my chest tight with something that might be panic or might just be the crushing weight of recognizing I’ve completely fucked up my own revenge plot.
Because I can’t do it. I can’t hurt her. I can’t watch the light go out of those expressive eyes. I can’t be responsible for silencing her laugh or stopping her gentle hands from healing broken things.
I can’t destroy Gigi, right?
The name surfaces in my mind before I can stop it—Gigi.
It’s what Katie calls her, what her father probably called her before everything went to hell. It’s the name people closest to her call her. Intimate and affectionate in ways that “Giuliana” isn’t, personal in ways I have no right to claim.
But I’m claiming it anyway, in the privacy of my own thoughts where no one can call me out for the weakness it represents.
Gigi. My Gigi.
Christ, I’m so,sofucked.
“The deer should wake up in a few hours,” she says against my chest, her voice muffled by my shirt. “I’ll need to monitor him, make sure there’s no internal bleeding I missed, adjust antibiotics if there’s any sign of infection?—”
“You’ll do all of that,” I interrupt, pulling back just enough to see her face. “Because you’re brilliant and competent and better at this than you give yourself credit for.”
She blinks up at me, surprise evident. “That’s—that’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” she says slowly as a lock of dark hair falls from her bun.
“Yeah, well.” I brush the strand of hair back from her face, my fingers lingering longer than necessary. “Don’t get used to it.”
But we both know that’s a lie. She’s already gotten used to it—to me being softer with her, more careful, showing her sides of myself I’ve kept locked away since Marco died. And I’m getting used to her presence. She’s woven herself into the fabric of my life so tightly I can’t imagine what this estate would feel like without her in it.
That’s the problem, isn’t it? I can’t imagine it anymore. I can’t picture going back to the cold, empty existence I had before she arrived, before she transformed this fortress into something that feels like a home.
Before she made me feel something other than rage and grief for the first time in three years.
“I should check the sutures one more time,” Gigi says, but she doesn’t move away from me. “Make sure everything’s holding.”
“In a minute.” I’m not ready to let her go yet, not ready to break whatever moment this is. “Just—give me a minute.”
She nods against my chest, and I savor this snapshot in time, trying not to think about how completely she’s unknowingly destroyed every plan I made.
She’s made me want things I can’t afford to want. She’s turned revenge into something far more complicated than justice or retribution.
She’s made me into someone Marco might not be ashamed of, even if it means abandoning the quest for vengeance I swore I’d complete in his name.
Every moment with Gigi makes it harder to remember why I’m supposed to hate her,because I don’t, why her father’s sins should be visited on her,they shouldn’t, why destroying everything she loves was ever a good idea,it wasn’t.
But walking away from three years of planning, from the revenge that was supposed to balance Marco’s death—thatfeels like betraying him all over again. Like admitting his murder doesn’t matter enough to see justice through to its bitter end.
I’m trapped between the woman in my arms and the ghost of the man who made me believe I could be better than my worst impulses.
And I don’t know how to choose between them without losing everything that matters.
Nearly two weeks pass in a blur of normalcy that feels surreal given the circumstances. Gigi spends her days in the sunroom treating the deer—who she’s named Bambi, much to Danny’s amusement—and I find myself making excuses to check on her progress.
“Just ensuring the investment in equipment is being properly utilized,” I tell Danny when he gives me shit about the fifth time in one day I’ve wandered down to the sunroom.
“Riiiight,” Danny says, not even trying to hide his smirk. “That’s definitely why you’re down there. It hasnothingto do with the fact that she lights up when you walk in.”
I scowl. “Fuck off.”
He shrugs. “Just saying, boss. You might want to figure out what you’re doing here before it gets even more complicated.”
