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She’s not one to mince words, and while I’ve assigned her to babysit Caterina, she’s quick to tell me how terrible I’m being.
“I know you’re in there, asshole,” Gia’s voice drifts through the closed office door, shattering the silence. “Stop ignoring me and let me in.”
I frown. I stand and unlock the door, and my sister blows in past me in a haze of Dior and rage.
“Gia,” I say, settling back into my seat and folding my fingers on the desk. “What are you doing here?”
She cuts me a glare, her cat-eye style eyeliner sharp enough to poke a hole in my day. “I’m done with babysitting the girl.”
“She’s only six years younger than you.”
“And all she does is mope! Jesus Christ, I’ve never seen someone so sad,” she flops into the armchair that graces the corner of the room and closes her eyes.
“I was hoping she’d be at least a little bit fun, but no. Literally all she does is eat approximately one crust of toast for breakfast and then collect dust in the corners of the rooms. She doesn’t even want to go to the beach. She’s determined to just be silent and creepy, like she’s trying to fade into the walls or some shit.”
I frown. “She isn’t eating?”
Gia picks at a thread on the chair’s arm. “No.”
“But there’s a chef, correct?”
Gia nods. “I hired the same person who opened that restaurant you bought.”
That’s a fairly good chef. “Does she not like the food?”
“I don’t know,” Gia sighs dramatically. “Why don’t you just ask her? Since she’s your wife and all?”
The emphasis on the word ‘your’ doesn’t slip my notice. I narrow my eyes. “Gia, what are you doing?”
“I’m doing nothing. Exactly what you told me to do. I watch the girl, try to talk to her, and then make sure she doesn’t off herselfso that her family will try to come get her and we can either take them out or prove that they took Mom and Dad out.”
Her words are a little wooden, and I fold my arms and study my sister. “You told me you wanted this responsibility.”
“Elio, this isn’t a responsibility. It’s babysitting a grown woman.”
“A De Luca,” I snarl. “We don’t know what they’re capable of.”
“I’ll tell you what this girl is capable of. Nothing.” Gia straightens and glares at me.
“It’s like you kidnapped a baby bunny and you’re telling me to watch out to make sure it doesn’t have a grenade. She’s harmless. If you poured water on her she’d melt. Probably why she doesn’t want to go to the beach,” Gia muttered.
I stare at her. My twin is my polar opposite. Her personality is big, showy, and loud. Mine is reserved and quiet, something that irritated my father to no end. There’s a reason that she is named for him, Giovanna for Giovanni.
I am named after my mother’s father, a man who served the family faithfully until his death.
They suit, I suppose.
Just because Gia is my opposite, however, doesn’t mean that I don’t know her better than I know myself. “You like her.”
She huffs a breath. “Obviously I like her. She’s pretty and sweet, and just because she’s made of spun sugar and fairy dust doesn’t mean she’s not doing the best she can. She’s been kidnapped, Elio, and she was expecting a marriage.”
I snort. “She wouldn’t have been expecting much.”
“But she still agreed to it,” Gia said gently.
“I doubt that. Marco is heartless and desperate. Without this contract, his company would fail within the week, and he’d have the FBI coming for him faster than he could sign the bankruptcy papers. He probably sold his sister to me for the business advantage without a second thought.”
“I don’t think so. Did you see the way she held herself when you signed your marriage license?” Gia taps her fingers on the arm of the chair, studying me.
