Page 103 of The Merciless King

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

BRAXTON

If I thought being with Gianna was hard knowing I can’t keep her, it’s nothing compared to hating her for being what I knew all along she really was.

A mafia princess.

I’d fooled myself, thinking she was different. She’s not.

In her own words, she told me that she knows exactly the type of business her family is involved with. Or what she thinks I’m involved with.

She admitted she’s selfishly okay with that.

I’m a fucking idiot.

I can barely look at her.

Lunch was awkward, and we both made small talk, drank a little too much, barely made eye contact, and then returned to the house to lie by the pool for the rest of the afternoon.

I pretended to snooze, ignoring Gianna’s glances and unspoken questions.

She’s hurt and confused.

I’m furious.

I want to throttle her...and fuck her. I want to punch myself in the face for being a goddamn fool.

When her mother joined us for a late afternoon cocktail, I had to put on my Braxton Rossi face once more.

“Ciao my darlings. Are you having a good day?” Angela Baldassare asked.

“Si, Mama,” Gianna responded.

“Si.” I nodded, taking the Mojito from her. “Thank you.”

“Tell me more about you, Braxton. Where did you grow up?” she asked.

“Chicago,” I answered.

Never been there in my life.

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