Liam nods. "I have. But I didn't call you here to work. I just wanted you to be aware, peace doesn't last," he says, relaxing into his chair. "I will handle it."
CHAPTER 39
Gianna
The apartment is quiet,too quiet for what today is supposed to be. Sunlight streams through the window beside me, casting long golden lines across the wooden floors. I sit facing the mirror, the soft brush of foundation smoothing over my cheekbones as the makeup artist murmurs something about shimmer and undertones. I nod, barely hearing her. My heart is pounding.
Outside the window, I can see the greenhouse in the distance, a touch of greenery glass surrounded by carefully trimmed hedges, woven arches, and tall guards. Not just your typical wedding security. This is a different guest list. The Irish. The Italians. Peace treaty as it is, they're still families that don't usually sit in the same room without drawing blood.
This isn't just Finn and my wedding. This is a diplomatic arrangement to create peace between our families.
Every corner of the ceremony site is locked down. Guards on roofs, earpieces in tuxedos, sharp eyes disguised behind smiles. Everything has to go according to plan. And it hasn't helped that since Finn returned from Costello Motors, he's been on edge regarding security.
I take a slow, deep breath and look back at my reflection. The makeup is perfect, subtle but radiant. A soft glow on my cheeks, a smoky shimmer on my lids. My hair is pinned halfway up, the rest falling in curls over my shoulder. I look beautiful. Everyone has said so, but inside I'm trembling.
The makeup artist adjusts the tilt of my chin, and I force myself to hold still. I have no reason to be afraid. At least that's what I keep telling myself. I love Finn, and he loves me. This day is ours. But somewhere beneath the excitement and sparkle, something else coils, a tightness in my chest, the buzzing of nerves in my spine.
Is it fear? Anticipation? Or maybe just the weight of everything this day means. The door creaks softly.
"Gianna?" Rina's voice calls gently as she steps inside. I turn my head and she stands there, elegant as ever in her emerald green dress, dark curls pinned high, age only gracing the softness around her eyes. Her gaze lands on me, and for a moment, she doesn't say a word.
Then she smiles. Her eyes shimmer, glassy with tears she hasn't yet shed. "You look... beautiful."
I blink, and just like that, the tightness in my chest cracks open. "Rina..."
She crosses the room quickly, her heels clicking softly against the floor. She cups my face, careful not to smudge the makeup, and kisses my forehead. "I can't believe it," she whispers. "Look at you."
I laugh, a small, shaky sound. "Don't. I'm already trying not to cry."
She sits beside me for a moment, her finger resting lightly over mine. "I want you to know," she says, her voice soft but firm, "I'm proud of you. You've become a woman who knows what she wants. You've been through a lot, and yet here you are, stronger than ever. I'm proud of your heart, your courage,and everything you've become." She squeezes my hand. "Your mother would be too. I hope you know that."
Tears burn in my eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep them back.
"Thank you." She smiles and kisses my cheek. "Now don't go ruining your makeup. Save the tears for the vows."
We both laugh, and the tension in my chest loosens just a little. The makeup artist gives a small nod, satisfied with her work, and steps away. The room is full with gentle rustles of fabrics, the low hum of voices from outside, and I can hear a violin warming up. My heart skips a beat.
I slip into my wedding dress, the white lace fabric clinging to my body perfectly as I stare at the mirror. It's an off-shoulder dress with crystals hanging from it along a long train.
I take a deep breath, looking at myself before walking to the window, watching the subtle movement of guards. People are starting to arrive. Expensive cars line the gravel path, polished shoes step onto the cobblestones, and suits in shades of gray and navy move like shadows.
Everything looks perfect, until he arrives.
A black car pulls up just outside the gate. The moment the door opens and James steps out, my heart drops. I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. "Are you okay, sweetie?" Rina asks, but I barely register her question.
What the hell is he doing here?
He's dressed to blend in, but James never really can. The weight of his presence, his red hair and audacity, it all strikes me at once. I can see guards stiffen, stepping in front of him. Heads turn. People are already watching, curious, whispering.
My palms turn clammy. This isn't part of the plan. The wedding is supposed to be a new chapter, not a battlefield. For a moment, I consider running out there, intervening before things escalate.
But then, I see him.
Finn steps out of the greenhouse, shoulders square, sharp suit, eyes locked on James. I wish I could see Finn's face from here, but his back is turned to me.
"What is going on?" Rina asks, joining me at the window. I don't answer her, because I don't know. From where I stand, I can't hear the words, but I feel the tension, the clenched jaw, the sudden shift in his stance, the way he's holding back the storm I know is brewing in him.
They stand face to face. And then Finn stretches out his hand. James looks at it. Then slowly, cautiously, he takes it. The breath I've been holding rushes out of me.
