Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 27737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
"Actually, she's been on a virtual hunt for photos—-"
I knew it!
"Of a shirtless Giancarlo," Cat ends with a sheepish smile.
Say...what?
Cat bursts into laughter when my jaw drops.
"I know what you're thinking, but I swear I didn't make any of that up."
"A shirtless photo of Giancarlo?" I'm sputtering at the sheer idiocy of it. "And she says she's been searching for it for years?"
"I heard the others squealing when this girl showed them photos of the other Marchettis. Don't you think it's interesting that Giancarlo hasn't one on the Internet?"
"No."
Cat peers at my face as if I'm a puzzle to be solved, but she only laughs when I shove her away.
"Something tells me you're more bothered than you're willing to admit," Cat teases.
"You're imagining things," I huff.
"Cheer up, Sari. You might not be his #1 fan, but at least you're still his fiancée."
Grrrr!
We spend the rest of the afternoon bickering back and forth, and I'm still not over her horribly misinformed opinion even when we've already left the library and gotten ready for dinner.
Why the hell would I care about being his #1 fan?
Being anyone's fan is for losers.
And I'm not a loser.
I'm not!
But the moment I'm seated next to Giancarlo for dinner that evening, I take one look at his too-perfect face, and I just want to punch it.
This is all his fault, dammit!
He shouldn't be so perfect that he has other girls wanting to be his #1 fan—-
"Is everything alright?"
Like you really care.
He's a man, after all. I'm just the bitchy fiancée he's stuck with while his self-proclaimed fan is probably this walking Coca-Cola bottle who's oozing with honey and—-
"Sarica?"
"I'm fine," I say shortly. "I just have something on my mind."
"Such as?"
I shrug. "It's nothing serious."
"I think it is," he murmurs, "but we can talk about it later."
My eyes widen.
Later?
I'm dying to ask him what he means by this, but with La Strega already motioning for the staff to serve the first course, there's no chance to speak about private matters, and I'm left to internally squirm in my seat for the rest of the evening.
It's been over a year since the Angel of Death made me realize why Giancarlo is painstakingly careful not to be alone with me. I honestly thought things would change the moment I turned eighteen, and I was secretly but also shamefully relieved when the status quo remained.
Giancarlo only talks to me when we're in the dining room with others, and so this bombshell of his about having a discussion...later?
It makes every minute feel like torture, and as soon as the staff clears the table and prepares to serve coffee, I'm unable to wait a second longer, and all eyes turn to me as I jump to my feet.
I open my mouth to speak, but before I can get another word out, Giancarlo has also risen from his seat and places his hand on the small of my back as he asks, "May we be excused, nonna? There is something I wish to speak in private with my fidanzata."
"Certo." Of course.
"Grazie, nonna."
I can't help gritting my teeth as Giancarlo guides me out of the dining room. I hate how he always finds a way to give off this impression we're in sync about everything, and I glare at him as soon as we're out of sight.
"You made it seem like we've agreed about this."
"Was I wrong? I can't seem to recall you disagreeing."
Grr!
"You look furious," he murmurs.
And that surprises him, seriously?
"You're so full of yourself," I growl out.
"But not wrong."
The words literally have me growling, and Giancarlo chuckles.
"I cannot help being right, Sarica," he says lazily. "Just like I cannot help being perfect."
This, dammit!
This is what I hate the most about him.
He's only the most fucking obnoxious jerk around me because he damn well knows no one's going to believe me if I tell the whole world the truth about him.
"I hate you, hate you, hate you—-"
A horrified gasp cuts me off, and both Giancarlo and I turn towards the sound.
The woman's face is unfamiliar, but the dismay on her face is telling.
It's her.
I'm not jealous or anything, I swear.
But I'm absolutely convinced it's her.
The new hire who calls herself Giancarlo's #1 fan.
And for some reason, this thought has me looking up at Giancarlo—-
Oh.
He's staring at the other woman, but his expression can only be described as the opposite of gentleness. It's not cold or hard per se. But it's just not...gentle.
Oh.
Oh no.
That's not good at all.
I know exactly how it feels to be a recipient of such a look, and sure enough, when my gaze flies back to the new hire, it's to see her pale and shaking. It's as if the sun has suddenly turned its back on her, and when Giancarlo finally speaks—-
"Has it not been made clear to you which part of the house are you authorized to access?"