Chapter Five – Giselle
I sat in the back of Cypress’s church, listening to mass. Ezekiel was… unlike Father Charlie in every way, and yet he still had every single person’s attention. Where Father Charlie’s voice was gentle and warm, kind and soft, Ezekiel’s voice reverberated through the church, strong and harsh, in a way.
But there wasn’t anything wrong with his voice. In fact, I found his voice kind of… entrancing. Like I could listen to him speak all day, regardless of what it was about. He could be talking about bananas or ants and I’d still want to listen to him, as I suspected most everyone else in this church would.
Though I was in the back of the church, the very last pew, I could see him perfectly. He stood at the podium, discussing this week’s homily. It was the day after the party, and I’d decided to come to mass to try to get back into my old routine—or, at the very least, find some solace in this religion, even if I didn’t believe in it.
And to get my mind off that kiss. As silly as it was, I had the most difficult time sleeping last night, because I couldn’t shake the kiss with Cade from my mind. That whole confrontation had not been something I’d expected, and yet I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t okay with it. The mysterious, enigmatic Cade was actually the dragon man from the Playground.
If I knew more about the Cunninghams, I might’ve put two and two together, just as he did, but I didn’t. I’d been willingly blind in that club. It kind of irked me a little that Cade had known it was me—I supposed I wasn’t too sneaky with my gloves; they were a dead giveaway.
But it was Cade. It was Cade, and the truth just made things murkier.
Cade. Zander. Even Luca. These men had me under their spell, and I couldn’t fight it, couldn’t shake it. As much as I wanted to deny that I could develop feelings for any of them, it would be a lie, as plain as day to anyone who heard me say it.
I refocused on Ezekiel in the front. He was busy quoting something from today’s scripture, and a few of the people in the church were nodding their heads, as if they agreed with whatever he was saying. I must’ve missed the lesson, or I was still too lost in my own thoughts, because as much as I tried to pay attention, my mind kept wanting to drift off.
With a silent sigh, I reached for the golden cross tucked underneath my white leather jacket. My fingers found its metal, and I stroked it absentmindedly, wishing Father Charlie was here. Maybe he could guide me when it came to the confusing emotions inside of me. Maybe he could help put to rest the schoolgirl crushes I was developing toward Zander, Cade, and Luca.
I was Giselle Santos. No crush of mine would ever end well, even if my father wanted me to marry one of them. My father didn’t want me to marry Luca because he knew I liked him; he wanted to marry me off to punish me for something—only I didn’t know what. Send me off to Rocco, have me always under those watchful, leery eyes and those disgusting hands.
The door to the church opened, someone very late to mass walking in. Ezekiel didn’t let it bother him, but he did glance up at the intrusion. For some stupid reason, I imagined he was looking at me, but the most sensible reason was because he was looking at the late person—along with quite a few of the other people in the pews around me.
Yes, when you arrived late to church, everyone felt entitled to judge.
I didn’t turn my head to look; I didn’t need to. Unlike most of these people, who pretended they were righteous and the opposite of judgmental, I really didn’t care. If someone was late, who gave a shit? Maybe they had car troubles, maybe they couldn’t find their keys, maybe—
The person who’d walked in late sat in my pew, right next to me, causing all thoughts to vanish from my mind the moment I saw who it was. Hint: it wasn’t a stranger.
My posture straightened, and I turned my head back to the front, eyes on Ezekiel. I didn’t know why this guy was here, but if he thought I was going to talk to him, he was dead wrong.
Who sat next to me, you might be wondering? A guy with a whole lot of tattoos, all the way up his neck. A guy wearing a torn t-shirt, along with holey jeans and a thick golden chain around his neck. A guy with darker skin, short black hair, and eyes so black they were damn near pupil-less.
I know, I know. I was also wondering what the hell Damian Whatever-His-Last-Name-Was was doing in a church. He didn’t seem to be a very religious sort, which begged the question: why?
He didn’t say anything, but he did glance at me, a small smirk on his face. I pretended not to notice, staring holes into the altar up front. The moment I’d turn my head to look at Damian, I knew he’d talk to me.
Oh, fuck. Don’t tell me he was here for me. This was my first time going to a mass in Cypress, so it wasn’t like I frequented the place. Unless I had him pegged all wrong, and he was here to worship? I guess it was possible that he was a religious man.
I doubted it, though.
Damian leaned over to me, whispering, “Is it always so boring?”
I frowned, still staring straight ahead. Whatever game Damian was playing, I wouldn’t have any of it. I would’ve scooted away from him on the pew, if it wouldn’t have made it obvious that I didn’t want to be near him.To do so would give him power over me, in a way.
“Hey, don’t give me the cold shoulder,” Damian went on, his voice so low I could hardly hear it. He must’ve leaned closer to me, for I felt his hot breath on my ear. My hair was up, which meant I couldn’t hide behind its lengths. “Is that any way to treat the man who saved your life?”
I let out a long breath, closing my eyes for a moment. The last thing I wanted to do was look at Damian, but if it would get him to shut the hell up, maybe I should. When I opened my eyes, I turned my head toward him, giving him a tight-lipped smile, an expression my father was very well-known for.
“You’re not supposed to talk,” I whispered back. The smile I wore fell off my face when I saw just how intense Damian stared at me. Like, the rest of the church didn’t matter. Like I was the only one here worthy of his attention.
“Oh, sorry.” Damian acted both sarcastically and dramatically repentant, which caused me to roll my eyes at him. He lifted a finger to his lips, drawing it across it, like he was zipping his lips and throwing away the key. That blasted smirk still sat on his mouth, though.
That fucking smirk. I hated how easy his smirk got under my skin. Needless to say, I didn’t trust this guy. I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him—and right now, there was no way I could throw him far at all.
I had the feeling he was only waiting for the right time to talk, so I was slow in returning my gaze to the front. Back on Ezekiel, and judging from his expression, he definitely knew who’d walked in. His normally blank face now wore a concerned expression, which I bet most of these people thought was just his way of being passionate about whatever it was he was talking about.
Having Damian beside me was like having a loaded weapon with me, like having a ticking bomb resting just a few inches away. As much as I tried to pretend I was fine, that I didn’t care he sat less than a foot away from me, I couldn’t fight the way I wanted to inch in the opposite direction.