“Gigi’s real name is Giulia,” Gris starts.
“All right,” I shake my head. Because the nickname Gigi completely makes sense.
Killian stands, holding out the file folder. “Giulia Andriani…”
“Like Matteo Andriani,” I roar. Are they related? All kinds of possible scenarios run through my mind. My hands come to my head, my chin tucking into my chest as I squat. “Tell me that what I’m thinking isn’t true.”
“It isn’t,” Gris answers, calmly. Quietly. Too calm and way too quiet. How he even knows what I’m thinking I couldn’t say.
I jerk my head up and snatch the folder from Killian’s extended hand.
Standing, I open the folder, the picture making my chest so tight, my heart threatens to explode.
It’s Gigi, my fucking Gigi, on the arm of Vigo Sinclair.
“Her name is Giulia Andriani Sinclair.” Killian’s arms cross over his chest. “Emma’s name, however, is Emma Andriani.”
But I barely hear it. I don’t know what the fuck is going on but the woman I love, the one I just said I wanted to marry, has told lies so thick and so deep, who knows where they might end.
I drop the folder, grabbing my phone from my pocket and hit Gigi’s name.
“Rush,” Gris grabs my arm. “This is why we were waiting to tell you. We need to be thoughtful. There is an advantage to be had if we just don’t?—”
“Hello?” Gigi says into the phone. “Rush? Is everything all right?” I can hear the copier in the background. Her tone so soft and sweet as it comes through the line. “Do you need me in your office?”
My breath comes out in harsh gasps as Killian steps up right into my face, his nose a few inches from mine.
His eyes are narrowed, and there is no mistaking his expression. He’s pissed.
I don’t fucking care.
“Rush?” she asks again, sounding alarmed. “What’s wrong?”
Gris tightens his grip on my arm. I know what they want me to do. Pretend. Strategize. But this is my life. My fucking heart.
I take a long deep breath through my nose. “Gigi.”
“What is it?” she asks. I hear a door open. “I’ll be right up. Sorry it took so long. There was?—”
“You’re fired.” And then I hang up the phone.
A second later, Killian’s anvil of a fist crashes into my nose. Blood sprays as I stumble back.
I catch myself, setting my feet and reversing my momentum as I throw myself at Killian with every ounce of my strength. Does he want to fight?
Fighting sounds like the best idea I’ve ever had.
I heave my shoulder into his stomach. I hear the air rush out of his mouth a second before we crash into the window.
“Stop,” Gris spits, but I don’t listen as Killian recovers, his fist plowing into my abdomen in an uppercut that has me curling over.
But I don’t need much time to recover and then I’m punching down, getting him right in the dick. That’s the thing about brothers. There are no rules.
He hits the floor like a sack. I swipe the blood off my face with my sleeve and then spin. Gigi is about to find out why I’m not a man to tangle with.
“No,” Gris says, his hands coming up.
“I will take you down,” I snarl.
