Page 68 of The One-Night Heist

For a one-percenter to be the one to point that out was odd, but that was because Giano was weird.

And I really like his brand of weird.

It also wasn’t like I couldn’t relate to his situation at all. Being an orphan meant I’d been an outcast since birth. Even once I ended up with a foster family in my teens, it wasn’t because they actually wanted me. I was a means to an end for a payout, and it was only once I started using everyone else around me in the same way they used me did I finally feel comfortable in my skin.

But that’s not how it works with him…

Before I could second guess my instincts, I stood and strode down the aisle after Giano. When I reached the obscenely large walk-in closet, he was already dressed, and I had to restrain myself from dramatically clutching my chest like a simp. His chocolate brown dress pants were more on the high-waisted side than usual—forcing me to restrain myself from gripping his snatched waist—with a camel-colored linen suit jacket over a crisp white dress shirt, no tie…

With the top few buttons undone.

And now I am undone.

“Ohhh… is this what you meant by sprezza-whatever?” I cooed, eye-fucking him exactly as he deserved. “Does that translate to slutty suit showing some skin?”

Giano glanced down at himself, all shy and blushing prettily. “Sprezzatura. It roughly translates to ‘studied nonchalance’ or ‘effortless grace,’ but both sound horribly pretentious…”

“Both are accurate though,” I butted in before realizing how that sounded. “I mean, the translations… not the pretentious part.” I sighed, wanting to be nice for once. “You look really good, Giano, and it suits you. Pun intended.”

To my immense relief, he cracked a smile—hopefully picking up that this was as close to an apology as I was capable of—but then his gaze drifted to the rest of the closet behind me.

“It would suit you as well, Rowen.” His gaze met mine again, apprehension stark on his face. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of having my stylist put together a few sprezzatura-inspired outfits for you too.”

Oh no, he didn’t.

I turned, horror movie slow, to find my monogrammed garment bag—with the matched luggage below—along with three more matching, monogrammed garment bags, no doubt stuffed full of clothing way above my pay grade.

Don’t look for a parachute.

When I’d snooped around earlier, I’d assumed everything aside from my 3-piece set belonged to Giano, but now I realized his luggage was a different color than mine—chestnut instead of navy—and clearly monogrammed with GTL.

The T probably stands for Thomas, after his father…

That I remembered this random piece of Giano trivia from The Andervelt incident was terrifying—even more terrifying than our almost matching, matched luggage all lined up together in the same closet.

Wait a minute…

“Giano…” I carefully began, genuinely wanting to know. “How exactly are you spending so much money on me when you supposedly need the funds from the sale of your mother’s art for… reasons…”

Reasons you won’t tell me.

“As mentioned,” he replied, just as carefully. “The trust my mother left me allows for certain uses of those funds, with one being the upkeep of a public image. Since there isn’t any way to prove who I’m buying luggage or suits for…” A devilish smirk tugged at his terrifyingly tempting lips. “You said it yourself: We love malicious compliance in this house.”

We sure do!

We usually do…

The sugar daddy situation was still bothering me, but it wasn’t because I didn’t appreciate the attention, as squirrely as it made me. I wanted to understand Giano’s motivations—why he wanted to shower me with gifts at all but also what he needed to use the auction funds for.

I wish he would just tell⁠—

“There’s a property I want to buy!” he blurted out, and I clutched my chest for real. “And I need to outbid the people already bidding on it. That’s… that’s all I can tell you, Rowen. I’m sorry…”

That this man was apologizing to me, after everything I’d done—that he trusted me when he absolutely did not have any reason to do so…

I am in so much trouble.

“It sounds like more malicious compliance is afoot,” I purred, stepping closer and sliding my hands under his sprezza-slut jacket and pulling him against me. “Can you at least tell me if the people we’ll be bidding against are rich assholes who deserve the karma?”