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“By lying? That’s not protection. That’s—”
A door slams, cutting off whatever truth Atlas was about to throw at him. My chest tightens, and I slam the book closed, startling Milo, who’s nesting in my lap. It’s been eight days since Gio crashed into my life, changing everything. But even with allour short time together, I know he’s keeping something from me that he hasn’t revealed all his secrets.
Enough is a damned enough. I stand and head to Gio’s study before realizing what I’m doing. My hand hesitates on the door, my heart beating fast, too loud. When I knock, there’s a pause, then Gio’s deep voice responds, “Come in.”
When I enter, he’s standing by the window, his broad shoulders rigid, with his back to me. Atlas shakes his head as he passes me. But the only thing I can read on his face is frustration. When Gio turns, concern flickers in his eyes before he covers it with a soft smile.
“Jeniah,” he says, crossing the room with his panther stride that always makes my pulse quicken. “Everything alright?”
I want to melt into him, to let him charm me away from the questions gnawing at my insides, but not this time. Instead, I square my shoulders, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “Why were you and Atlas arguing,” I say, my voice sharper than I intended. “What aren’t you telling me, Gio?”
For a heartbeat, his smile falters. He reaches for my hand, trying to soothe me. “It’s nothing for you to worry about,” he says. “I’ll protect you. Don’t you trust me?”
“That’s not the point, Gio. Of course, I trust you. But this—” I narrow my eyes. “I want you to trust me too. I deserve to know what’s going on.”
He sighs, running a hand through his hair—stalling. “Jeniah,” he starts, his voice almost pleading. “It’s complicated. Just know that I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“By keeping me ignorant?” I snap. “How is that supposed to help?”
His hands cup my face, the warmth of his palms steadying me, even as my heart beats out of control. “Trust me,” he whispers, his lips brushing my forehead, the gentleness almost undoing my anger. “Just a little while longer. Please.”
I want to keep fighting, to make him tell me everything, but the look in his eyes—the vulnerability, makes my resolve waver. I nod, reluctantly, and his lips curve into a small, relieved smile.
“Thank you,” he whispers, pulling me into his arms. I fall into the comfort of his embrace, trying to push away any lingering questions.
Then he pulls back, his smile turning playful. “How do you feel about skiing?”
“Skiing?”
“Yeah,” he says, his eyes brightening. “I owe you another date. Skiing was on your list, right?”
My suspicion flares. Why are we suddenly leaving? But before I can question it, the part of me that longs for escape takes over.
“When?”
He grins, already reaching for his phone. “Tomorrow.”
The next day, true to his word, we’re on our way to Wisconsin. The SUV glides through the snow-dusted landscape, the tension from Chicago fading with each mile. Skeletal treeswrapped in white blankets stand like fortresses as we pass by. Their branches hang low under the weight of the season. It’s peaceful here—so different from the constant noise of Chicago’s downtown.
Gio’s shoulders relax as he drives. He smiles more easily as we debate the merits of R&B music versus the Country ballads he prefers. I could almost believe that this trip is just what he said it is—another casual date. Another item to tick off my list. But the cars full of security personnel, both in front and behind, say otherwise.
When we pull up to the private mansion he’s rented, I exhale my surprise. The place is stunning—with wide windows overlooking the pristine, snow-covered grounds.
“This is beautiful,” I murmur, stepping inside and taking in the high ceilings, the warm wood, and the large windows framing the winter wonderland outside.
* * *
“Not as beautiful as you,” Gio says softly, wrapping his arms around me from behind. His breath is warm against my ear, and I snuggle my back to his chest and close my eyes. For the first time in days, I let myself forget the warning bells ringing in the back of my mind.
The day passes in a blur of skiing and laughter, the cold air biting at our faces as he spends more time digging me out of the snowthan racing down the slopes. The guards are here, of course, but they hang back. Giving us the illusion of normalcy.
After dinner, a roaring fire, hot chocolate, and slow, sweet kisses chase away any remaining chill. Gio holds me on his lap, and his fingers lazily trace circles under my sweater. We are as peaceful as the snow that’s resumed falling outside. But as the fire crackles and the night deepens, Gio’s mood shifts. His expression turns serious. His eyes lock on the flames as if the words he’s about to say are too heavy to face me directly.
“Jeniah,” he starts, his voice low, almost hesitant. “I need to ask you something.”
I set my mug down. “What is it?”
Car engines cut his response off, followed by angry, raised voices. Gio is on his feet instantly, his body snapping into alertness when he looks out the window. We’re in the middle of nowhere. Fifteen minutes from the closest resort or ski slope. What the…
