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“I believe him,” she said, avoiding that word. Forgiveness. I didn’t think Giselle was the type of person who could ever forgive. “When I went home, my father was there. He…” She stopped, shaking her head, and once again clenched her hands into fists. She looked like she wanted to punch someone.
“Tell me what happened.”
Her head angled toward me, and I realized then she wasn’t just angry. She was frustrated, shocked, and confused. So many emotions resided on her pretty face, and until she told me what happened, I wouldn’t be able to help her.
“I’m apparently a married woman now. Legally.”
Her words were akin to a slap in the face, and I could only blink for a few seconds as I let them sink in. “You’re married? How did that happen?”
“He forged my signature on the marriage license. Apparently he’s been planning this a hell of a lot longer than I’d known. He got the certificate back already. It’s a done deal. I am not Giselle Santos anymore. I’m a Moretti.” She inhaled a deep breath, then let it out in a rush. “That’s not even all of it. He hired movers. Starting tomorrow, I no longer live with my father. I have to live with Luca and Rocco.” With another sigh, she leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees and burying her face in her hands.
I knew instantly why she was so upset. Not only had her father forged her signature on the legal documents, but he was also disowning her and forcing her to go live with the man who he’d sold her out to years ago. It sounded like Miguel Santos hated his daughter, but why?
“Oh, and did I mention I met his fiancé? She was nice. He forced us to have dinner together. Her name is Gianna Melendez. They met and the chemistry was instant. They both fell in love, he proposed, and now they’re getting married soon. She’s also eight months pregnant, though she looked ready to fucking pop if you ask me.”
No wonder Miguel wanted to get rid of her. He had a new family incoming and had written off Giselle just like that.
“There is nothing I can tell you right now that will ease the way you feel,” I whispered. “I am sorry all that happened, and I understand why you are so upset.”
“I’m not just upset. I’m… I’m—I don’t even know anymore. It’s like everything I believed in was a lie.” Giselle shook her head. “I didn’t want to get married. I thought I’d have time to get myself out of it. I thought I’d be able to dig up some dirt on my father and use it against him, but now—what am I supposed to do now, Ezekiel?”
I did so love the way she said my name. She didn’t shorten it to Zek, like many of the other Black Hand members. It sounded like a prayer on her tongue, and because she wasn’t the type to pray, it made it sound all the sweeter.
“You will get through it,” I told her. I wanted to set a hand on her knee, touch her, hold her, physically tell her I was there for her, but I knew if I did, one thing would inevitably lead to another. This girl made me want to sin like no other.
“Will I? Or will this be the final straw, the one that broke the camel’s back?” Giselle paused. “I guess I’m the camel in that saying. Hmm.”
“What do you want me to do? If you ask, I can help you—”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t want your help. I’ll figure something out. I have to. I can’t—I just can’t live like this anymore. If my father thinks this will shut me up and get me out of his life, he’s wrong. I’m going to make life hell for him, and by the time he realizes it, it’ll be too late.” She sounded so vehement, so strongly about it, that I knew I couldn’t go against her wishes.
I knew a few things I could do to help, but if she didn’t want me to, I wouldn’t. I would respect her wishes.
Giselle let out a chuckle. “I just can’t believe this is happening. I finally start to live, and then my father sells me off to the same family he sold me to three years ago. How the fuck am I supposed to live in that hotel with Luca and Rocco and act like everything is fine? Everything is not fine. Nothing’s fine!” Her voice echoed in the church.
“You will make it through this,” I told her. “You will. You are strong, Giselle. The world might not recognize your strength, but I do.”
Those dark eyes turned toward me, her lips slow to curl into a smile. “Thank you. I… everything in my life has always revolved around my father. Me being here, Zander, this stupid marriage with Luca. I wish I could say you’re different, but you’re the Black Hand’s priest. If you weren’t, I don’t think we ever would’ve met.”
“Perhaps that’s true, or perhaps you would’ve come to me seeking solace like you did before. I know I am a poor replacement for your Father Charlie, but—”
She set a hand on my leg. She was the one who instigated the first touch, and instantly my body reacted, growing warm in all the right places. Or the wrong places, depending on how you looked at it. “You are not a replacement,” Giselle said. “You are… you’re different. Out of everyone else here, I feel like you understand me the most.”
I was glad to be that person for her, but I couldn’t voice that satisfaction, too busy staring at the hand on my leg.
“I… I probably shouldn’t stay for long,” she went on. “My father is driving Gianna home, but I’m assuming when he gets back he’ll check to make sure I’m up in my room, packing.” The hand on my leg didn’t move, even though it came off like she wanted to leave. “But I suppose I could stay for a little bit.”
“To train?” I asked. “Or for something else?” I should not have said that second part, but it came out of my mouth before I could stop it. Wanting her was an even greater sin now. Even if she didn’t agree to it, she was a married woman. Lusting after a married woman was a terrible, terrible sin—and yet that wasn’t all of it.
No, it wasn’t just lust. Not when it came to Giselle. Though she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen, I was connected to her on a much deeper level. Deeper than sex. Much, much deeper than merely a physical level. We were connected in ways most people would never be. As I said before: I would be her comfort, because I knew what pain she’d lived through.
“Is it wrong if I say something else?” Giselle whispered out the question. Though we’d already discovered the hidden curves and smooth planes of each other’s body, she was still hesitant, probably because of the clothes I wore.
I was a priest. My duty should be to God. I should not crave this girl more than the air I breathed, and yet I did just that. Sinning was not something I abstained from. I sinned; I repented. I killed; I asked for forgiveness. I protected the ones under my care; I prayed for God to absolve me of each and every sin.
We sat as close as we could be on the pew, her hand still on my leg. I lowered my voice to a whisper as I said, “There are no words for the emotion you bring out of me, Giselle. No words. Is it wrong? Many would say yes, but the only ones that matter here are you and me.” I lay an arm on the back of the pew, my other hand going to her face, my thumb rubbing over her smooth chin.
Her lips parted, and she stared at me with half-lidded eyes. There was no one else in the world for me, and right now, I didn’t think about the other men in her life. Not her bodyguard, not her husband, not anyone. It was just her and I, and with the way she stared at me, there was only one thing to do.
