Page 99 of Stolen Summer

Crew’s mouth twisted into an awful sneer. “She’s everything you could never be.”

Tears pricked Gianna’s eyes, yet I still had no sympathy for her. “Why? Because she fucked you first instead of Cole?”

Crew’s eyes darkened, his nostrils flared, and for a heartbeat, I thought he might hit her. He surely wanted to, but he held back, his control intact despite the heaps of anger trembling off him.

I didn’t have such control.

And I would have slapped her if it hadn’t been for Cole stepping in my path. I scowled at him, my fingers trembling. He was lucky I didn’t have both hands free.

“Are you jealous? Is that why you sent that guy after her?” Crew demanded, unaffected by what went on behind him. His cold focus stayed on Gianna.

“What are you talking about? What guy?” I had to give her credit for her performance. She put on a convincing show. I almost believed the clueless confusion on her expression.

Crew’s fingers flexed on her throat. “Don’t play with me, Gianna. I know it was you who had him break into my house and then throw the brick into the window.”

“So what? All I did was try and scare her,” she admitted, surprising me. She was shameless in her wickedness. “Obviously, it didn’t work.”

“And when you hired someone to stab her? Was that meant to scare her as well or kill her?” Crew pressed, not letting up an inch.

“Stab?” Gianna’s throat bobbed. “I never hired anyone to hurt her, let alone kill her. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a murderer. How could you think?—”

A shadow flickered in Crew’s eyes that sent a chill down my spine as he cut her off. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”

Gianna shook her head, realizing he wasn’t joking, her snideness morphing into fear. “I didn’t do it. I swear. It wasn’t me.”

“If it wasn’t you, then who?” he demanded roughly.

I didn’t like the look Gianna and Crew shared, a moment of insight as if they came up with a person at the same time. If not Gianna, then who else would benefit from my death?

I came up blank, and I wanted to scream for one of them to give me the answer.

Then it hit me. The two people who benefited most from removing me from the Gianna, Cole, and Crew equation were…

Cole’s father and…Gianna’s father.

Their names went off in my head like a bomb.

I couldn’t fathom either one of them putting a hit on someone like me. How could I possibly be a threat? Either Cole or Crew had introduced me to their father as his fiancée at the masked party, but I couldn’t sort through my memories fast enough to pinpoint which twin I’d gone with.

Arranged marriages in my world were ancient. No one did them. To treat a union such as marriage like a business deal churned my stomach, but humans were known to do far worse for wealth and power. Why not sell your son?

The fingers around Gianna’s throat loosened but didn’t altogether release her. She took in a greedy breath as Crew said, “It was your father.”

Behind me, Cole stiffened, the fingers at my hips boring a bit deeper into my flesh.

Gianna’s eyes wobbled as she stared at Crew, considering. Her head shook again. “He wouldn’t.”

Crew’s arms fell to his sides. “We both know he would. We know what our fathers are capable of. If this deal between our families doesn’t happen, he stands to lose a lot of money.”

A shift occurred in Gianna. Her proud chin dipped, and the defiance in her expression that had been slowly waning dissipated completely. She looked defeated. “We’re broke. He lost it all,” she whispered, a quiver in her voice.

When I heard that admission and understood the motive driving her father, my back slumped against Cole’s chest.

“How?” Crew’s voice hadn’t lost its harshness. He was merciless in his quest to uncover the truth.

Her shoulders went slack as she averted her gaze from Crew’s. “I don’t know, bad business decisions. You know I’m not involved in my father’s dealings.” Shame deepened the color in her cheeks. How much it must have cost her pride to admit such a thing.

“No, you and your sister just spend it.” He lashed out with words meant to make her feel insignificant and foolish. “Fuck,” he said under his breath, shoving a hand into his disheveled, dark hair.

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