Chapter Three – Giselle
The next Friday, Luca was throwing a party for me at one of the clubs. The Black Hand heirs had a favorite supposedly, and he asked them to book it out for the night for us. I couldn’t tell him I didn’t want to go; there’d been no further words on our impending engagement, but I knew that’s because my father wanted me to stew. The bastard took delight in me being unhappy.
So, no, I would go to this fucking party, and Luca and I would have a talk.
He’d swung by the day after I got out of the hospital with a vase for the roses, but I’d pretended that I wasn’t feeling well, mostly because I was still thinking of what to say to him. Thankfully, he hadn’t insisted on seeing me, which I was grateful for.
I didn’t tell Zander about what my father had said, but I’d force him to deal with it soon enough. I just… what could I say to him? How could I tell someone who made my heart act up and my body get all warm that my father wanted me to marry someone else?
See? This was exactly why I never should’ve let the guard to my heart down, especially when it came to Zander. I knew, from the very beginning, that this was a disaster waiting to happen.
The day of the party came soon enough; I hadn’t seen any of the other heirs or the other would-be heirs. That was fine; it gave me time to think. Time to carefully plan what I was going to say to Luca about this possible engagement, the key things being: fuck you and I don’t want to marry you.
Who was to say that this wasn’t Luca’s idea? Who’s to say he was innocent in all of this? If there was one thing I’d learned in my life, it was that you could never trust a handsome face. And Luca? Luca’s looks were more than handsome. Attractive with dimples when he smiled wide, and those dark eyes of his were so easy to get lost in.
I couldn’t let myself be swayed by his good looks. I would stand strong, even if I’d made the mistake of letting him in.
Him, Zander… even that dragon guy at the Playground. I caught myself thinking about them a lot, and you know what was the craziest part? It wasn’t just them.
I thought about Damian a lot, too. Mostly because I didn’t trust him, but I was also well aware that I owed my life to him. I’d been so shocked, so lost in pain that I’d passed out; there was no telling what would’ve happened to me if Damian hadn’t been just around the corner the night I was shot.
I also thought about Ezekiel. He was not the type of priest I was used to, but maybe that was a good thing. I didn’t need a man that reminded me of Father Charlie. This was Cypress; I needed a new start.
Things weren’t looking too good for my new start, though, which was why I would see to it that I cleared the air with Luca. Whether he had a hand in this engagement thing or not wouldn’t matter. I’d tell him how it was, how it would be. I’d rather die than marry into the Moretti family.
That wasn’t an exaggeration. I’d rather fucking die.
My outfit for the party was going to be a dress that hugged my body close until my knees, where a short slit sat on the side. It wasn’t like I had many loose clothes; the wound had started to heal, scabbing up, getting itchy, but I did my best to fight it. I definitely didn’t want to go to this party while looking like a grandma.
No, I was going to look damned good while telling Luca off.
The dress was white, of course, because my father knew about this party. Zander had made the mistake of telling him that Luca was throwing it, and after he knew that particular detail, he was all for it.
Of course he was.
I chose a pearl necklace and some elbow-length ivory gloves to go with the dress, along with killer three-inch heels. My blond hair was clean, and I spent the few hours before the party dolling myself up. Drying my hair, styling it, doing my makeup. I decided on straightening it, something which I normally didn’t do; I figured I’d make a statement tonight.
As the days wore on, I’d gotten better at putting on my own clothes. It took me longer, yes, but at least I didn’t constantly need Zander’s help. Having him help me dress, feeling his fingertips graze over certain sensitive places on my body… it only gave me ideas, and those ideas were things I had to quash.
As much as I wanted to let go, to take charge and do whatever I wanted, it was still tough for me to throw all caution to the wind and be with Zander like that. A part of me wanted to—don’t get me wrong, now that I’d pushed myself, now that I had been shown that bodies could be such wonderful things, lost in bliss and pleasure, I was definitely more open to it now than I’d been before.
But… But. There was still a but, and I feared there always would be.
I sat in front of my lighted mirror, my makeup strewn on the desk in front of me. I took my time in doing my makeup. I didn’t need much; it wasn’t like I had to hide a whole bunch of acne or any scars on my face. I’d been blessed with a clear complexion. I mainly focused on my eyes and my lips, only doing a little bit of contouring.
The reflection that stared back at me from the mirror looked like me, and she wore a slight frown the entire time, as if she didn’t want to do this.
That’s because I didn’t. This… this was just not something I thought I’d have to prepare myself for. I’d grown up knowing my father would choose my husband, but for it to be Luca Moretti?To be in Rocco’s family? Come on. He had to be doing it to hurt me. My father was never that outwardly spiteful, but I also wasn’t stupid.
Once the makeup was done, I sat there for a few moments, meeting my own stare in the mirror. I wasn’t happy, and I didn’t think I ever would be. I wasn’t a good person, so I supposed this was my comeuppance. A killer, someone who sinned on a damn near daily basis. If hell was a real thing, I was certainly going to it.
Really, it wasn’t a wonder why my mother had been so religious. Even if she’d come from a life outside of this, my father had inducted her into a life of crime, so it made sense she’d wanted to pad her eternal soul with God’s forgiveness.
A knock echoed on my bedroom door, and I broke eye contact with my reflection the moment I heard Zander’s voice on the other side: “It’s about time we get going. Are you ready? Do you need any help?” He’d been steadfast in offering me his help at every turn these past few days. Don’t get me wrong, it really did help the first couple of days after coming home, but I was stubborn enough that I had started to make myself do it all.
I didn’t need his help. I didn’t need anyone’s help. Was it nice to have? Sure. Every now and then a little bit of help was, you know, helpful and shit, but you couldn’t get used to it. Even if you were a man with friends and connections like my father, you still couldn’t get used to it. You had to be aware that your best men might turn on you if they got a better deal from someone else. Trust, true trust, was so hard to come by these days.
“No,” I called out. “I’m almost done.” That was a lie. I was done, save for putting on my heels. I was slow to get up and wander over to my bed, where I’d placed the heels earlier. I sat on the edge, grabbed one, and held my breath as I leaned over my knees to bend down to put the thing on.