She jut out her bottom jaw, not looking too happy. “You really want to know? Fine. My father mentioned that he and Rocco Moretti are in talks about marrying me off to Luca.” As she said it, I instantly felt my rage flare up.
Anger, envy, denial, whatever you wanted to call it.
“I know what you’re thinking, because it’s exactly what I thought about it when my father told me,” Giselle went on, definitely not knowing what I was thinking. “I don’t know what my father is planning, but he obviously is scheming behind my back. I don’t know how the Hand would still keep him around if I’m already married off, but—”
“You’re not marrying Luca Moretti.” Luca fucking Moretti. I couldn’t believe it. I guess I underestimated him. Perhaps he was more of an opponent than I thought.
“I don’t think you get to decide who I marry,” she muttered. “But you’re right. I’m not. I’m not going to do it. I’ve been the meek daughter, doing whatever her father wants, for too fucking long. I’m tired of it.”
There was the fire I’d seen at the Playground. There was the Giselle that had drawn me in and captivated me from the beginning. This good girl persona she had out here, the white dress and gloves… it was all a lie. That wasn’t the real Giselle.
This was.
“Does Luca know you’re not marrying him?” I asked.
“Yes, I told him. I’m not marrying anyone.”
“Not anyone?”
She frowned at me. “No. I won’t. I won’t do it. You… you have it different, being a son. My whole life, I always did what my father wanted, even if it went against everything I wanted.” Giselle quieted. “Even if it meant doing something I never wanted to do. But I’m done with that. I’m done being a pawn, Cade. You can think whatever you want of me, but know that I’m not some girl you can play.”
I studied her. I studied her long and hard. “I’m not playing you. I’m not lying when I say I can’t stop thinking about you. Believe me, I’ve tried hard not to, but the more I try, the more impossible it is.” I hoped she believed me. I hoped she didn’t think I was lying to her. “I don’t want to use you or play you. I just want you, princess.”
“I…” Giselle paused, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. I hoped I didn’t lay it on too thick; I wasn’t used to feeling these sorts of things. This wasn’t normal for me. Maybe I came off too cheesy, too much. “I think I should go.”
“Giselle—”
She reached up to her chest, as if she was going for a necklace or something, but nothing was there, so in the end, she didn’t grab anything. She turned her head away from mine, whispering, “I’m tired.”
“Then let me take you home.”
“I have Zander.”
Right. That bodyguard who was always with her… except in the Playground. Funny how he was practically glued to her hip, save for when she wanted to get fucked. I’d thought something was between them, but maybe not. Maybe that was just my jealousy radar going off when any guy was with her.
As much as I wanted to force her to stay with me, I knew I couldn’t. I also knew I’d already pushed her enough for the night, so, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I scooted away from her, out of the booth. I offered her a hand to help her up. She didn’t take it, of course, preferring to do the work herself, all the while puffing herself up and acting like her stomach didn’t bother her at all.
She didn’t have to lie to me. She didn’t. I wished she knew that.
Once Giselle was on her feet, she snatched the black gloves off the table, slow to turn to me. “I…” Those dark eyes peered up at me, a mixed expression now gracing her face. “I don’t know what to say, but—”
“I know,” I whispered back, my voice hardly audible over the music. I wouldn’t tell anyone about this, about what we’d talked about. Definitely not about the kiss. Right now, I wanted Giselle all to myself. Talking to others about her, sharing how I couldn’t fight the way I felt about her… it was too personal. I wasn’t ready for that. Plus, I knew my father wouldn’t approve of it. Not right now, anyways. He’d call it fraternizing with the competition or some shit, or try to get me to use her—which I wouldn’t.
No, the only way I wanted to use Giselle was in a sexual capacity, over and over again.
She looked like she wanted to say more, but she held herself back. Her white gloved hands curled around the black leather ones, and without saying another word to me, she turned away and started to march off, holding her head high. When she walked, she owned the room. She walked with a confidence she didn’t have the first night I’d met her, when the Black Hand had thrown a lavish party downtown.
Giselle was coming into herself, and I was here for it.
I watched her disappear down the stairs, and then I moved to the railing, clutching the metal. I spotted her instantly; she was the only one in white. The white in a sea of black, the angel among demons. Although, if I suspected right, she was no angel. She was just as dark as the rest of us, just as willing to do whatever it took to get the job done.
Even if that meant giving herself up.
And yet, now she would refuse to marry Luca. The girl was growing some backbone, and again, I was all for it. I wanted nothing more than to see Giselle take flight, to watch her own this city and the wannabe gangsters in it. The Black Hand? Fuck them. They didn’t deserve her.
Giselle made a beeline for Zander, who was busy talking with Luca at the bar. I watched as she got his attention—without touching him, I noted—and she whispered something to him. The distance between us was too great; I couldn’t hear a single thing they said, nor could I read their lips. Luca must’ve heard, for he appeared quite sad suddenly, as if he didn’t want her to go.
Was it possible Luca wasn’t as much of a playboy tool as I assumed he was? The way he constantly joked around, how he carried himself; it was the vibe I got from him. It was possible, I supposed, that Luca Moretti was falling for Giselle. Hell, as much as I wanted to fight it, I knew I was, so it wasn’t too outlandish to believe others were also caught under her spell.
Zander and Giselle turned away from Luca, heading to the door, but not before Zander glanced back. He didn’t look at Luca near the bar. No, his head turned in my direction, and I wondered if Giselle had told him about what we’d discussed. Or maybe he could see the slight swollenness of her lips and knew we’d kissed.
Whatever. I wasn’t going to make any apologies. I couldn’t get Giselle off my mind, and by God, I was going to make sure she stayed safe. And if she didn’t want to marry Luca fucking Moretti, then she wouldn’t. Her father might be feared and respected among the Hand, among the other applicants, but fear had to be earned and respect given. He had neither from me.
I wanted Giselle to have everything she wanted in this life.