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Maybe we could do it again, when she was fully healed. Maybe marrying her off to Luca was Miguel’s way of salvaging the situation and he wouldn’t want anyone else to end her. I mean, if he sent someone after her now, it’d look like an attack on both the Santos and Moretti names.
But, I realized, maybe that would be the point.
Shit. This girl was never safe. I had to keep an eye on her, and I had to act like I didn’t give a shit about her and Luca’s engagement.
By the time I finally let myself come, I was sweating. My body flushed, every part of me steaming hot, much like the lithe body under mine. My balls tightened, my cock twitching inside her core as it emptied its load into her. I didn’t even think about it; I just came. I filled that body with cum, lost myself to my own pleasure, and panted like a fucking dog, like I couldn’t get enough air for my lungs.
I stayed buried in her for a few moments, not wanting to pull out, but I knew I had to, and so once I did, I rolled onto my side, staring at her. Just like me, Giselle was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and if you asked me, it made her look even sexier. Undone by my hand and my cock—and my mouth, I guess.
“Fuck,” I whispered, “I didn’t even think—”
“I have an implant,” she whispered. “I got it a while ago. The last thing my father wants is me getting pregnant with the wrong man’s baby.” She groaned, rolling onto her side to stare at me. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the engagement. I… I was hoping to find a way out of it, but right now, I just can’t.”
Who was I to stay mad at her for something she had no control over? “It’s okay. Is that why you wanted that stuff?” I referenced the things she had me get, the things sitting in the small black bag on the floor.
She nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be in this house.”
Miguel did seem to want her engagement to Luca to be on the fast track, and I had no idea why. He needed an heir to be eligible for the Black Hand, unless he found some way around it.
“If I need you,” Giselle whispered, “would you come?”
That question caught me off-guard, and I was slow to sit up, staring down at her with a quizzical expression on my face. My mouth tugged into a frown. I wanted to ask her why, but instead I watched her prop herself up, mirroring my position.
“If I needed you,” she repeated, “would you come? Would you come, even if it meant going against my father?” The question was spoken too seriously; the fact that her tits were right there, the fact that she was still very much naked and gorgeous was out of my mind.
I said the only thing I could: the truth. “Of course I would. I would do anything for you, Giselle. Anything.” And I meant that with every part of my soul, what black bits were left.
She reached out to me, placing her hand on the side of my face. I leaned into it, breathed her in, and for a few moments, neither of us said another word. And then, all too soon, she pulled her hand away, scooting around me to get to the edge of the bed. “There are some things I want to talk to you about, but I think it might be better if we were both dressed.” She shot me a look right then, a small smirk on her lips, and I knew what she was thinking.
If we stayed naked, we might get other ideas. As in, have a replay of our first time. Not that I wouldn’t mind another round with her, but based on the heaviness of her tone, I chose to assume whatever she wanted to talk about was important, more important than getting my dick wet in her again.
We got dressed. I moved slower, watching her, making sure she didn’t need any help. When she reached behind her to clasp her bra together, she held back a wince, but beyond that, she acted as if she was fine. What she’d told me before rang in my head: she was used to pain, and she’d felt a lot worse than this.
What did she mean by that?
“Giselle,” I spoke her name softly as I buttoned up my shirt, “when you said you’ve felt pain before, what did you mean?” Her body held no scars anywhere; that bullet wound would leave her first. What kind of pain was she talking about?
Those brown eyes met mine, and I could tell I’d struck something. A nerve, an anxiety she had deep down. Was it the same anxiety that led her to not want to be touched? Those gloves she wore had to mean something. I just… I’d never really thought too much about it. I thought they were just a quirk of hers.
Had I been oblivious to something this whole time?
Her eyebrows furrowed, and she started to pace the room before me. “You think you know me, Zander, but there’s so much you don’t know. So, so much. I used to bury it down, keep it in, pretend everything was fine, but now… now I’m starting to realize there’s no point. If it’s going to end up me against my father, you might as well know the truth.”
“You against… what are you talking about?” Was Giselle hatching a plan to take her father down? How could she—no, there was no fucking way she could. Not without a mini-army behind her.
Was that why she’d asked me if I’d come if she called?
“The other day my father said something that made me think. It was a veiled threat. I’ve heard my father make enough business deals to know when he means you’re walking on thin ice with him. I think he might be the one responsible for me getting shot.”
“What about that Atlas and his Serpents? Or the other guys trying to get on the Hand? Killing you would be an easy way to disqualify him.” What was I doing? I was arguing on behalf of Miguel, when in reality I already knew the truth.
I should tell her. I should come clean… but, damn it, I couldn’t.
Giselle walked over to her desk, opening a drawer and pulling out something. When she turned to face me, she showed it to me: a beautiful golden cross, dangling on a sparkling chain. “The Serpents are after me, but I don’t think it was them.” The necklace sat in her palm, and she studied it hard. “This belonged to Father Charlie, a priest I used to go visit all the time back home. I took it off the body of a Serpent after they killed him.” Her fingers closed around the cross. “The Serpents know where I am, but they haven’t made another move yet. I don’t know why, but I’m guessing it has something to do with a few more of them going missing.”
As she turned to return the cross to the drawer, I shook my head. “What do you mean, a few more going missing?”
“Turned out, they tried to find me in Cypress’s church.” Giselle paused, flipping and leaning her backside against her desk. “They found Ezekiel.”
