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Damian sighed, and I wanted to say he sighed almost dreamily. “She’s got a way with words. She just speaks to me, you know?”
“I can’t say that I do, no.”
Damian scoffed and gestured for me to go, as if I was bothering him. “Our girl’s in her room, working out. With everything going on, she could use some relaxation, so why don’t you run along and help her relax, eh?” He winked at me after that, and that was my cue to leave.
Really, the Taylor Swift was my cue to leave, but whatever. Don’t ask me how anything Taylor Swift did spoke to Damian, because I honestly had no clue. Plus the way he called Giselle ours was…
It was weird, right? Definitely weird.
I left Damian to his cooking and his Taylor Swift singalong, heading down the hall to Giselle’s room. My knuckles hit the door once before I said, “It’s me, Luca,” and then I pushed inside.
Damian was right. She was working out. I found Giselle wearing workout shorts with a sports bra, the scar on her stomach on full display. She was on the floor, doing crunches, her hands behind her head. She looked to be struggling a bit, as if her midsection wasn’t up to par just yet.
When she saw it was me, she lay back and let out a sigh. Her knees relaxed, her legs straightening out on the floor. I closed the door behind me, moving to sit with her on the ground since it didn’t seem like she wanted to get up.
Her amber eyes flicked to me. Her skin was flushed, and she breathed hard. If I had to guess, I’d say she’d been working out a while, maybe to keep her mind from it all. “Luca,” she whispered my name. “I’m sorry. I… I should’ve called.” She was unhurried in sitting up, and she leaned her back against the bedframe.
“It’s all right.” Things felt a little awkward, the air between us thick with tension that shouldn’t exist. I knew things were going to get messy once she pounced on my father, but I didn’t think things would change between us.
I didn’t want things to change between us. I… fuck, I didn’t want to become a stranger to this girl.
To break the silence, I said, “I just got out of a meeting with the Black Hand. They’re going to interview the people who didn’t make it on, forbid them from leaving the city just yet. I’m acting as my father’s replacement until—” I couldn’t say it.
Giselle nodded. “Makes sense. Atticus and Shay will want to make it look natural.”
“Did you… I mean, is he—” No matter how I started the question, I couldn’t seem to finish it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was because I was afraid of the answer.
“He’s still alive, if that’s what you’re asking. I got some pretty big info out of him already.” Giselle pulled her knees in to her stomach and held them there, staring at nothing in particular as she frowned. “Big enough to shatter what’s left of the Hand, I think.”
Big enough to do something like that? What could she possibly mean? I had no idea what could be so earth-shattering that the current Black Hand would break. “What did you find out?”
Giselle was more in control of her breathing, her skin already less pink than it had been when she’d been working out. She was measured in meeting my stare. “I need to have a meeting with everyone. We need to move fast, be on top of things—”
“Whoa. For what? What’s going on, Giselle?” I scooted along the carpet until I sat beside her, my back against the bed.
“I don’t know how much you know about what happened to the Black Hand before, but it’s the Cobra. He’s not dead. Atticus is keeping him alive, a prisoner, because Shay asked him to. Miguel and Rocco found out.”
Of course I knew the gist. The Cobra went crazy, tried to off the Hand. He succeeded in killing Piper’s parents and older brother. Pretty sure he was also the reason Slade didn’t have much of a tongue, not to mention that thick, ugly scar on Nix’s throat.
My eyebrows came together. “Why would Shay want him alive? Is she, like, torturing him daily or something?” It was the only reason that made sense, after the murder and maiming.
What Giselle said next almost made me choke on air: “He’s her brother. The Cobra’s real identity is Tristan Arrowwood.”
No way. I didn’t want to believe it, but one look at Giselle told me she was one hundred percent serious.
I muttered, “Fuck. What are we going to do? We obviously have to get to him before Miguel does. Miguel’ll be busy with Black Hand stuff, but he’ll probably still make time to scheme, as villains often do—”Now wasn’t the time for jokes, but I couldn’t help it.
“I know. Shay already knows. She’s in, and she’ll make sure her guys are in, too. Some of them actually don’t know that the Cobra’s still alive—I bet that conversation’s not going to go well.” Giselle ran a hand over her face, and then she leaned her head back on the wooden frame of the bed. “It’s a mess, Luca. Everything’s a goddamned mess.”
“It is,” I agreed, “but everything will work out. I know it.”
Giselle turned her head in my direction, a soft smile gracing those beautiful lips. “Are you some kind of fortune-teller now? Can you see the future? It’d be nice to know if all of this goes without a hitch, or if—” She abruptly stopped and bit her bottom lip, a pensive expression crossing her face.
I reached for her hand, and she let me take it. I pulled it over to my lap as I scooted a bit closer to her. As I ran my fingertips over her knuckles, I whispered, “Well, if there’s anything good that’ll come out of this, it’s that my family’s lawyer is now mine. Getting a divorce should be easy-peasy now.”
I still got all nervous when I talked about it. I guess I didn’t want a divorce. This whole thing was a sham, a joke—we didn’t even have a stupid wedding—but I never wanted to let Giselle go. Getting a divorce would be doing just that.
“You know,” Giselle whispered, leaning her head on my shoulder, “just because we get a divorce doesn’t mean we can’t still see each other.”
