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Her heart thumped as a riot of emotions filled her.
On any other occasion, the joy bubbling up inside her would have spilled over into her limbs until she was rushing over to hug him, reacquainting herself with his touch, his smell. Tonight, however, she could only sit rooted to her chair as words escaped her.
Gio did not try to break the silence either, letting it extend on and on until sweat poured down her neck. Was it already the day of his arrival, or had he landed early? The fact that he’d managed to enter the bedroom and sit there, for who knows how long, alarmed her. She hadn’t slept that deeply in months, so unaware of her surroundings.
Ana studied his hands flexing on his legs as he inspected her closely. “You didn’t listen to my message,” he murmured.
A statement, not a question.
She swallowed. “No.”
“And you’ve been avoiding me the last few days–very diligently, at that.”
Guilt trickled into her. There was no need to respond to that one either. He knew; he always knew.
With the casual pose of a lion lazily surveilling its prey, Gio leaned forward until more of his face fell into view. Black curls slicked back and sharp jaw taut. He almost appeared coolly controlled until she noticed the pulsing flex of his forearms and shoulders. As if he wanted to strangle something.
“I am handling this…issue,” he said, the word stained with distaste. “It will be taken care of by morning.”
Ana nodded faintly, her thanks lost in her throat. Her aunt had shared as much. Neither of them would let this scandal slide without full-scale damage control. Reputation and honor were everything to them. To him. Because of that, she’d often wondered what Gio would do if she ever became a liability…if his perfectly perfect wife, the one who had made him so proud after the gala, ever fell into disfavor.
She had tried so hard to avoid it.
And yet, the hour had come.
It was a fate that was inevitable. The house of cards, the perfect image she’d built, was only ever one gust away from tumbling down.
“Do you believe it?” she whispered.
“No.”
Eyes wide in disbelief, Ana sat back. “No?”
Gio swatted the notion aside authoritatively, like an unwanted fly. “The rumor sounded like absolute bullshit when I read it, the kind made up by a third-rate tabloid. So, no, I didn’t believe it. And if you’d picked up my calls, you’d have known that too.”
Her mouth opened and closed.
Regret washed over her.
What a coward she had been. She had wasted so much time in a spiral of depression the past few days, hiding away in her room and shutting out the world. If only she’d spoken to Gio sooner. She could have avoided this torment.
The relief at his assurance was slow in coming, though. She still couldn’t accept that Gio was fine after seeing that horrid text. Did he not doubt her at all? It seemed implausible. Especially when his body still radiated dark tension, vibrating with unnamed emotion.
Peering at him in concern, she frowned.
And then wilted, realizing why.
Gio might believe her, but the Family didn’t. Based on the few messages she’d read, people were intrigued by the rumors. There were some who were utterly convinced by them. They had always suspected that her perfect image was too good to be true. That she had to be hiding something. And this seemed to prove it.
What could she even say to convince them otherwise? When rumors began to spread, no one could control them. Not even Gio.
As a new Don, his control over the Family was growing but still tenuous. He could command people’s obedience and silence, but how could he command their thoughts? They would always wonder just how much of it was true.
But Gio was unequivocally confident. “The Family will stop believing it. They won’t have a choice.”
Ana looked uncertain.
“I have a plan," he assured. "But what I want, first,” he tilted his head as he surveyed her, “is the truth.”
