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He does—when he orders in fluent Greek. His English is flawless. I didn’t expect him to slide into the mysterious-sounding language so effortlessly. But then everything about him is a mystery. Why did he agree to marry me? Why show up now in the middle of the night? I’m so lost in the tangle of unspoken questions that I jump when he says, “Your mind’s going so fast, I can see the wheels spinning in your head. What are you thinking about?”
I hesitate, biting my lip. “Honestly?” I shrug when he nods his head. “Running away. Despite what you and my father said, I doubt Mr. Silvio would bother coming after me.”
“That’s fear talking. You can’t throw away your life and pretend it’s a solution.”
“Why would he even care? I’m nobody.”
Gio’s gaze sharpens, cutting through my self-doubt. “If that were true, I wouldn’t be here. It’s not just that your father took his money—money that’s already been returned. He embarrassed and outsmarted him. If John Reynolds can take from the Silvios, why can’t someone else? He can’t let your father get away with his crime. The only way he can save face is if another family shields you. Running won’t solve anything. You can’t hide from your father’s mistakes. You have to face them.”
My throat tightens. “But… after everything he’s done, how do I face that? I gave up my freedom once for love. I can’t do it again.”
Gio relaxes back, but his intense focus doesn’t lighten. “Then let’s redefine what freedom means. Tonight, you’re not just John Reynolds’ daughter. You’re Jeniah, a woman who can make her own choices. You can choose to enjoy a wonderful meal and a night out.”
I swallow hard. “And tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow can wait.” Gio toys his fork but sets it back down. His kind eyes, the ones I drown in, submerge me, again. “But Jeniah, if you’re asking if you’ll have choices tomorrow… I promise. I will always give you a choice.” I don’t know how to respond to that. He’s here because of a promise to my father. How can he keep both? Doubt must show on my face because he takes my hand and hooks our pinky fingers together. “I swear.” Water fills my eyes when he offers a small smile that breaks through my clouds. I nod and let my guard slip a bit. The server arrives with a feast of roasted lamb, saganaki, and a rainbow of mezes. The food looks as appetizing as it smells.
“You know, this is my first real date,” I admit while drinking a peach Sangria with fresh mint during a lull in the conversation. I don’t know if it’s the wine or the company—but I’m mortified when the words slip out. I cover my face and wish that melting through the floor was a real thing.
“Really?” Gio grins, his dark eyes glinting. “You’re telling me I’m your first?”
I peek through my fingers, hiding from his gaze. “Well, technically, yes. If you can call this a date.”
“Oh, it’s definitely a date. “The food’s fantastic, the conversation flowing, and I’m sitting with a beautiful girl—so I’d say we’re off to a good start.”
“What if I’m terrible at it? What if I embarrass myself?”
“Then I’ll tell you it’s my fault. Even if we both know it’s not,” he says smoothly, laughter lighting his eyes and making my stomach flip. “But don’t worry, I’ll bail you out before you bomb.” He pauses, leaning forward slightly, his expressionshifting to something more serious. “But seriously, just be you. That’s more than enough.”
We ease back into the soft rhythm of our date. A date—I’m on a date. With a hot as hell guy who seems interested in me. True, he might be faking it to make me more compliant. But I’m not going to worry about that. Not tonight. Tonight, it doesn’t matter. I can focus on how we got here or on being here. It’s my choice. One choice is infinitely better than the other.
We drive back to the house in the bubble, made comfy by light conversation and Sangria. We don’t touch the heavy stuff. When he parks at the end of the driveway, I look at the house partially hidden by hedges. Its darkness seems ominous. Mocking me for spending time away from trouble. I hate for the date to end. Gio turns the key, shutting the car down, but doesn’t make a move to exit, even though we both know Cinderella has returned from the ball.
“So,” I say, gathering my courage, “is this the part where you try to kiss me?”
Gio’s eyes flick to my mouth, and my heart drops to my core, where it pulses and throbs.
“No,” he says, his voice low and husky. “That happens at the door.”
Once again, melting through the floor is not an option—even though he’s turned my spine to mush. I stumble a bit when he helps me out of the car. Fumbling my keys as we approach the front door. The night air fans my flushed skin.
Gio steps in front of me. Stopping me abruptly when I crash into his stiffened back. I look over his shoulder, “Oh, shit—”The motion sensor lights reveal the door is open. I see the destruction from behind the shield he’s become. I try to move him out the way but he’s stone.
“Go back to the car.” He orders in a voice that is the polar opposite of the soft, amenable tone he’s used all night. I step back, my heart racing. “I’ll call 911,” I say, reaching for my phone.
Gio’s hand clamps over mine, stopping me. “No,” he snaps, his eyes never leaving the open door. “We don’t handle problems with police.”
“What the hell? What are you saying?” Oh, shit. I’m so slow. He doesn’t explain. Doesn’t have to—not when he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a gun.
He unlocks his phone with a swift thumbprint before tossing it to me. “Get in the car and lock the doors,” he barks the command. “Call Atlas. He’s in my contacts. Tell him to send backup.”
I hesitate, torn between fury and fear. I can’t let him go in alone. He’s not the damn police. “No—” I start and stop the argument when he whirls on me.
“Get in the fucking car. Right damn now, Jeniah.” I shrink away, but he doesn’t soften his words or turn back around until I retreat.
My hands are shaking so much it takes two attempts to dial Atlas’s number. Atlas stops his “Hey, cuz—” when he hears my voice. I picture him stone-faced and determined as he whipsout questions, rapid fire.What happened? Where are we? And finally, where are his fucking men?
Gio has men?That one question—more than the gun, the refusal of police, and the skilled, disciplined response, tells me there’s another side to the Gio who teased me so sweetly during dinner. A side I’m not sure I want to know.
