and careful? If she was, was she different with Coralyn? What
exactly had her endgame even been when it came to work, to
life, to this woman?
“I’m sorry if I—shit. Are you sure you want to do this?”
Giana hoped for a smile of reassurance. A flicker in those
sapphire eyes, but there was nothing. Just an impassive face
staring back at her. She looked hard. Not like a woman in love.
Like a woman determined. Like a woman about to be led to
slaughter, a woman who sacrificed. Coralyn had every right to
doubt her, but things were going to be different. Giana wanted
to tell her that. Wanted to take her hand and make promises. It
felt too intimate. She’d be touching someone she felt like she
didn’t even know. But Coralyn knew her. Why was she
hanging back?
“You don’t really seem like a woman who wants to get
married,” Giana said softly.
Her hands curled into the black dress she wore. Black,
flowing, lacy. Expensive as hell. Paired with five-inch heels
because she’d felt naked without them, and her closet was full
of them. Heels in every color, but mostly black. Same with her
clothing. Black to a wedding. Christ, what had she been
thinking?
Coralyn hung her head, exposing the back of her neck. Her
hair was pulled up into a neat bun. Seeing that exposed nape
did something to Giana. It made her whole body tighten. It
made her mouth water. She wanted to do something. It made
her crave something, but she didn’t know what.
“I’m sorry,” Coralyn breathed. “It’s just that, my dad has
slipped into a coma.”
Fuck. Here she was, planning a wedding and doing those