Page 48 of The Last Vendetta

There was no way he hadn’t overheard it all. Besides, he’d already known about the possibility of this union from whatever Nickolas had said.

I had to see him. I had to talk to him. Just being near him would soothe the throbbing agony in my head at the mere thought of being forced onto Nickolas.

I didn’t know why he was here, but I assumed it was to see me, too.

“Is this all that you wanted to tell me?” I demanded of her, eager to be out of her presence and away from whatever she was plotting.

She dragged her wicked gaze over me, looking for something else to bitch about. “For now.” Instead of letting me tell her to get lost, she turned and headed inside.

Remaining where I was, letting her think that she’d had the last word, I waited for a long moment. Zoning out at the manicured grass, I stalled until she’d entered the house and was gone from the windows overlooking the garden.

I glanced up, catching sight of Renzo at once. A slight tip of my chin indicated for him to head toward the side where my room was.

If he’d climbed down the trellis near my balcony, he could climb back up it, too.

He nodded, and I spun around to run to my room and wait for him.

16

RENZO

Renzo

Meeting Giulia in this clandestine manner wasn’t smart, but nothing could keep me away from her. Seeing her reaction to Isabella’s mandate that she marry Nickolas was difficult. I saw how she’d flinched, as though she were hit. I bit my lip and stayed hidden when the mother tried to slap her for insubordination. As she grew quiet and pensive, I worried she was sinking into a pit of despair.

Fuck, Giulia. You can’t marry that bastard.

I disliked the idea of her marrying anyone, but I knew that was a ridiculous sentiment to hang on to. Of course, she’d need to marry someone sooner or later. I simply hated that it could be him.

I climbed back up into her room, glad for the weeping willow branches that surrounded her end of the mansion. It made it easier for me to scale the trellis then reach for her balcony.

She was waiting there, frantic and impatient. Grabbing my hands, she tugged me inside her room. Then once she’d closed and locked the glass doors, she guided me into her bathroom.

“What are you doing?”

The shower ran, but no steam collected.

“I can’t risk anyone hearing us,” she explained. The running-water trick was an old one, but it would mask our conversation if anyone lurked in the hallway.

“And now that she’s over her ‘mourning’ period and no longer wants the world to believe she’s ‘recovering’, I can’t trust that she wouldn’t be out there snooping.” She locked the door as I leaned against the vanity.

Seeing her so calculating yet worked up made me want to go to her and hold her close. I admired her foresight to disguise that I was here. I enjoyed how seamlessly she wanted to confide in me. And I hated that she was upset about this at all.

What the fuck is happening here?

It was bad to care, but now I was letting myself get in deeper.

For the wrong woman.

“That…” She clenched her teeth, pacing. “That bitch!”

“She’s being hasty,” I commented. “I just overheard Nickolas in passing that day, and now she’s communicating with him about it.”

She nodded, glancing at me with heat in her eyes. “Yeah. I know. And I bet she was working everything behind the scenes all that time she was hiding in her room.”

Probably.

Meanwhile, I was busy fucking her daughter.

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