Neither of them acknowledges me.
The creepy man looks back at the van, then at the lilies still sitting near the door, waiting to be loaded. “You know, you and your brothers always did seem to have perfectly terrible timing.”
Gio’s eyes narrow, his tension palpable.
“You spoiled my surprise,” the man adds, voice dark with amusement. “I heard you took over your brother’s position.” He nods toward the lilies. “Those were for you—a parting gift, you might say.”
My stomach drops, my breath catching, but no one’s paying me any mind.
Still, my mind is reeling, adrenaline slamming through my veins faster than I can process.
Hisfuneralflowers were meant for Gio?
Oh God, he means to kill him.
The look on Gio’s face shifts—but not to fear. Just quiet, deadly understanding. “I’m done with that life,” he says. “I’m not your enemy anymore.”
The man smirks. “Good to know. Saves me the trouble.” Then he gives a mocking bow. “Always a pleasure,Giovanni Chiaroscuro,” he says with a sneer.
And the sound of that name tears my world in half.
The moment he says it, something inside me breaks.
No—not breaks.
Opens.
Like a locked door bursting off its hinges.
Because I know that name.
I knew itbefore.
Not recently.
Not Gio, my friendly neighbor who I’ve been sleeping with for the past few weeks.
No.
I knew it in another life. A real one. A full one.
My name isn’t Jane.
It’s Stephanie, Stephanie Winters.
And suddenly, I remember everything.
Gio’s mouth on mine, wicked and sinfully addictive.
My laugh echoing as we walked along the sunlit Promenade beside the Chicago River.
His hand in mine as we ran through the rain in the botanic gardens, breathless and dizzy with love.
His fathomless hazel eyes peering into mine, promising me forever as he cupped my face.
Then, tires screaming, hands grabbing, darkness, fear—and pain.
I stagger back a step, my hips finding the counter, my hand flying back to catch me and colliding with the vase patiently waiting for its flowers.
