Page 101 of Unravel Me

"Being unattractive doesn't mean bad things won't happen to you. My life is proof of that!" he fires back almost fiercely, clenching his hands into fists.

Behind the lenses of his glasses, his eyes glisten with moisture and anguish. He leans slightly toward me and begins speaking in a lowered voice.

"You know… I was basically forced to marry Tomasso, a good-for-nothing scoundrel. After my first heat, he forced me to have sex during recovery."

Still slightly shocked by this deeply personal revelation, I remain standing in the doorway, but it feels somehow awkward to just stand there while he's talking about such heavy things. Gianni must notice my discomfort because he gestures for me to come inside.

His large eyes, magnified by his thick glasses, stare at me as I perch on the edge of the bed, where I notice a tiny nest, one he could probably fit into only if he curled himself up tightly.

"I went into shock," he says somberly, "I was having seizures, and they took me to the hospital. My reproductive system was inflamed, and it took a long time to treat it. The consequences were devastating. When my next heat finally came, it turned out to be infertile. Then another, then another, and I still didn't get pregnant."

I blink as I suddenly realize why Gianni reacted so strongly when he saw Mauro and me kissing in the hallway while I was still in recovery.

I've heard about the dangerous side effects of heat recovery sex, but I've never known anyone who had them this severe. I feel silly for being so upset with the situation.

"Tomasso was furious, the beatings started, and then even—" Gianni abruptly cuts himself off. He nervously tangles his fingers in his hair and tugs at it compulsively. "Sorry. I won't bore you with my story. The point is, maybe you've had a hard time, but at least you have your looks, a kid, and someone who wants you… so badly. I have nothing. No looks and… no one. No prospects whatsoever."

These confessions are hard to hear, and I swallow, struggling against the paralysis that takes hold of me whenever difficult conversations come up. But I'm making an effort to act like a human being. Gianni is part of this family. I feel terrible for him, so I reach out and squeeze his small hand.

"I’m sorry. I really wish your life could change for the better. Listen… I know a man named Storm, who helps people find their fated mates—"

Gianni's eyes suddenly grow wary, and he quickly looks away.

"I… I'm not ready!" he blurts out, but I know he reads articles about people who found their True Mates, so what's that about?

But Gianni nervously picks at his sleeve. "I wouldn't have anything to offer someone like that."

I huff. "I think you're very wrong. To your True Mate, you'd be the whole world," I say firmly.

Gianni stares down at his hands, frowning.

"I’m far from pretty, and I’m thirty-four. He’d be better off without me."

I bite my lip slightly, hesitating over the next offer, but finally say, "The thing is… I know quite a bit about makeup. I used to post a lot of tutorial videos on my Instagram showing different kinds of makeup. A lot of it was, you know, dramatic, glam makeup looks, but I also know how to do softer makeup that's better suited for more low-key types of beauty."

"That's a pretty way of saying I'm average," Gianni says bitterly.

"Oh, no. That's not what I meant. It's just that not everyone looks good in heavy makeup. Would you want to try it? I could give you a little glow-up if you want."

Gianni presses his lips together again, this time even more tightly, and I can see him struggling with himself.

"If you're willing to spend your time on someone like me," he adds almost coldly.

I snort indignantly. "You're perfect for an easy glow-up. Personally, I think you're an attractive omega. I just think you've lost faith that anyone could actually see it."

He sighs. "All right. If you want, you can try."

I rub my hands together excitedly. "Let me go get my makeup bag. We'll see what I've got."

A little while later, I return with my head already full of ideas for making Gianni feel a little better, a little more confident.

I start by brushing out his messy hair and gently shaping his natural curls with a little spray, coaxing them into soft curls around his face. Gianni sits there with his cheeks slightly flushed, as though he's embarrassed that someone is taking care of him. Maybe no one has ever done anything like this for him before.

I apply a very light foundation, a touch of dark brown eyeliner and mascara to emphasize his naturally long lashes, then lightly shape his overgrown brows. Finally, I add a soft peachy-pink gloss to his lips. They're naturally full and nicely shaped; Gianni just has a habit of pressing them into a thin line.

Suddenly, I feel someone's gaze on me.

I turn and see Mauro standing in the doorway, staring at me.