Page 104 of The Merciless King

“Ahh, the Windy City.”

“My mom preferred the nickname, the second city.” I said, pulling some random information I picked up from a fellow Marine a few years back.

“Why do they call it that?” Gianna asked, sitting up and sipping her cocktail.

Fuck.

I don’t know.

But my brain dug into his overworked database and, maybe it’s a survival technique, but somehow, I remembered the entire conversation and decided to share it. After all, I only had six more hours in the household, so even if they decided to fact check it, it wouldn’t matter.

I’d be long gone.

“The Great Chicago Fire. I think it was 1871. The locals called it the second city in reference to the resilience and strength needed to rebuild.” I said and dropped my sunglasses over my eyes.

God, I’d sounded like a walking Wikipedia.

“He’s smart and good looking, darling.” Her mother had winked.

When Gianna’s sad eyes met mine, I decided a swim would be an excellent decision. Or rather, a distraction. I left the mother and daughter to talk and dove into the pool where I did a few dozen lengths.

After, when I found myself alone, I cleared messages from Mack that told me everything was on track and that they’d be in a white van tailing me when I left the Baldassare estate this evening.

There was a PS from Connor: Don’t break my car.

That got the first smile of the day out of me.

Handing back the black Italian luxury vehicle was going to be hard. I was becoming quite attached to it. Still, at least I’ll have my life back tomorrow and, hopefully, Amy will be home.

If I pull this off, I’m taking a twelve-month vacation on a secluded island with tropical weather and nothing to do.

I know I’d get bored after a week, but I can dream.

Now, as I stand in the mirror and fumble with my cufflinks, I glance behind me as Gianna walks up and takes them from my hands.

Our eyes lock and my heart stutters.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

And looks devastatingly sad.

Because of me.

When I go to speak—and fuck knows what I was going to say—her eyes drop. “Here, let me.”

“Gia.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t.”

But I can’t not. Despite everything, I have feelings for this woman and it’s ripping me in half.

We have a matter of minutes left together.

She wants me to tell her I love her, but I can’t. It’s a lie. I could and I’m close, but I can never love her. Never love someone who stands idly by and allows these cruel things to exist.

She is a grown woman with choice.

But she deserves something from me after I’ve used her.

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