Caterina
I’m going to throw up.
Every time I look at this photo—this blown-up, crystal-clear evidence of my complete stupidity—my stomach does another somersault. I should stop staring. Close the envelope. Pretend it doesn’t exist.
But I can’t look away.
The image is seared into my brain now anyway. Gianni’s hand cupping the back of my head, the other pressed against my lower back. My body melted against his. That alley behind the club where I thought—where I *stupidly* thought—no one could see us.
My father can never know about this. Never. The thought alone makes my chest constrict until I can barely breathe.
And Tatiana. God, Tatiana.
Footsteps echo down the hallway, and then Gianni’s in the doorway, some package tucked under his arm. His expression shifts the second he sees my face.
“What’s wrong?” He sets the package down, crossing the room in three strides. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together.”
I want to believe him. Desperately. But he’s half the problem, so how exactly is he going to fix this?
“Promise you won’t get mad.” My voice cracks.
One eyebrow arches, and despite everything—despite the panic clawing up my throat—I can’t help noticing how unfairly gorgeous he is. The polo shirt and dress pants look like they’re from a magazine shoot. All masculine authority and calculated control.
My panties would be on the floor if I wasn’t currently having a meltdown.
“I’ll do my best,” he says dryly, holding out his hand. “Let me see.”
I pass him the photo.
Watch his face go from curious to confused to absolutely murderous in about three seconds flat.
His jaw clenches so hard I hear his teeth grind. Red creeps up his neck, flooding his face—not embarrassment, pure rage. The photo trembles in his white-knuckled grip.
“Where the fuck did you get this?” His eyes snap to mine, blazing with fury, before returning to the image.
“Does it matter?” My voice comes out higher than I intended. “Someone’s following me around taking pictures. Do you understand what happens if this gets out? If my dad sees this?”
“He’s not going to kill you—”
“You don’t know that!”
“—disown you, maybe.” He’s practically vibrating with anger now, the photo shaking in his hands. “But it’s not like this proves anything. We kissed. Since when is that a crime?”
“You know exactly what I’m saying.”
“You’re saying your bulldog father would lose his mind.” The way he says it—bitter, knowing, almost familiar—makes my skin prickle.
“What does that mean? Say it like that?”
He shrugs, too casual. “Just going off what you’ve told me about him.”
Bullshit. That sounded like personal experience.
“Anyway,” he continues before I can push, “you’re an adult. You can kiss whoever the hell you want.”
“Really?” I lean forward, forcing him to meet my eyes. “If Tatiana showed up dating someone your age, you’d just be cool with it? Give them your blessing?”
He scoffs.
“That’s what I thought.” I shake my head, trying to organize the chaos in my brain. “You don’t get it. My mom died. I became his entire world. All he has is me and his job. If he found out about us…”
I have to say it. Have to make him understand.
“He’d make your life hell. Even if I begged him not to.”
The light in his eyes dims. Replaced by something darker, colder. Now he gets it—the real danger here isn’t just embarrassment or family drama.
It’s my father’s badge and everything that comes with it.
“He’d actually do that?” His nostrils flare. “Abuse his position?”
“Are you kidding? In a heartbeat.” The words taste like betrayal. “I came here because even though I knew I couldn’t stay away from you, it was still better than moving home. He means well,” I add quickly, hating how disloyal this sounds. “He just—”
“He’d be that vindictive?”
“That’s not even our only problem right now.” I need to redirect this conversation before the tension between us ignites. “Someone is *following* me, Gianni. Taking pictures. I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.”
He moves to the bar cart, still clutching the photo in one hand while pouring whiskey with the other. I watch the image crumple in his tightening fist.
“So that’s how she knew,” he mutters.
“What? Who knew what?”
He doesn’t answer, just takes a long pull from his glass. “I don’t think it’s you they were following. If that makes you feel better.”
My heart stutters. “What do you mean? Are they following you? Why would someone—”
“My ex is a vindictive, greedy bitch.” He spits the words out like poison.
I flinch. “Tatiana’s mom?”
He nods slowly, turning to face me. The look on his face—I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that expression. “Things have been bad for years. She’ll do anything to squeeze more money out of me. Even hire someone to follow me around, apparently.”
“You think *she* took this?” I know it was Luciano, but I need to hear what he thinks. Need to understand what else we might be dealing with.
“It’s exactly something she’d do.” His laugh is hollow, humorless. “Why didn’t I think of it? Of course she’d want leverage.”
He shakes his head, still chuckling darkly. “Clever bitch.”
The word grates against my nerves, but we have bigger problems. “Even if they were following you and not me, I still don’t feel better. Is this my life now? Looking over my shoulder everywhere I go?”
“It’s not that serious—”
“Maybe not for you!” My voice cracks. “You’re used to this. But I didn’t ask for any of it. I just wanted to be with you. Now I have to deal with your vindictive ex-wife and photographers and—”
All the other things he threatened me with that first night. Things I’ve been trying not to think about.
“What are you saying?” His eyes narrow dangerously. “You’re afraid to be with me?”
“I’m not afraid of you.” Lie. Sort of. “I’m afraid of everyone around you.”
“I can take care of anyone. You know that.”
“I don’t know what I know anymore.” Tears burn behind my eyes, threatening to spill. “All I know is if my dad finds out, he’ll destroy you. And I can’t—I can’t be the reason—”
“I can handle him too.” He snorts like it’s funny.
Something in that sound—in the flat darkness of his eyes—sends ice through my veins.
“You wouldn’t hurt him.” It comes out as a question when I meant it as a statement. “Would you? Because that would kill me.”
His head snaps back. “You think I’m a monster?”
“No, but—”
“But?” The word cracks like a whip. “You think I’m capable of that? Of hurting a cop?”
I don’t know. That’s the terrifying truth. My heart says one thing, my brain screams another, and my body just wants him regardless of the consequences. I haven’t had a coherent thought since this summer started.
The tears come then, ugly sobs that shake my whole body. I bury my face in my hands, humiliated by how completely I’m falling apart.
“Hey.” His voice softens, and suddenly he’s crouching in front of me, hands warm on my thighs. Usually his touch sets me on fire. Right now I’m too wrecked to feel anything but the comfort of it. “This doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s just a picture from your piece of shit ex, who I’ll gladly pay a visit to if you want.”
I lower my hands slowly.
Luciano. He needs to learn I’m done. And nobody’s better at being terrifying than Gianni when he puts his mind to it.
But something feels wrong about the idea. Some instinct screaming at me to pay attention.
Then our eyes meet, and I see it—the hatred burning there. The murderous intent.
I shove the chair backward, wheels squeaking against the floor. “How do you know that?”
“Know what?”
“Luciano.” My legs are shaking, but I force myself to stand. “How did you know he gave me that picture? What the fuck are you hiding?”
He rises slowly, never breaking eye contact. That intensity is back—the kind that usually means someone’s about to have a very bad day.
“Let me explain—”
“What is there to explain?” The panic is morphing into something sharper now. Hotter. “Why were you even there? How did you know exactly where I was going when I didn’t give you the address?”
Each question leads to another, pieces clicking into place with sickening clarity.
He was following me. Watching me. Spying.
It’s not just panic anymore.
It’s outrage.