Page 14 of Her Overprotective Fiance

And then I blink again and again.

But nothing else happens.

Giancarlo Marchetti's lips have simplytwitched,and now he's answering me in the mildest of tones.

"Yes, I do."

How fucking...weird.

"Francisco says you wanted to speak with me?"

My chin goes up even though I'm not sure what I'm feeling defensive for. "Am I not allowed to?"

"Is that what you wish to speak to me about?"

"If it is?"

"Is it?"

I've never had someone verbally spar with me so smoothly like this, and I suddenly feel like this man will always be one step ahead of me.

"I believe my grandmother has spoken to you earlier,sì? I know it's a lot to take in, and I'm sorry for that."

His words make me sound like I'm as fragile as glass, and I hate him - and myself - for it.

"Don't you fucking pity me."

"I'm not—-"

"Then why?"

Shame eats me alive when I hear the way my voice trembles.

Fuck.

He's right, after all.

I'm fragile and breakable like glass right now, and I'm scared, dammit.

I'm fucking terrified that all it would take is one word.

Just one damn word, and I'd shatter.

For good.

So, why dammit?

"W-Why did you help me?"

"Because you needed help."

A crazed laugh escapes me. "So youdidpity—-"

"It would have been simpler if I did."

A "bad" childhood has always been my license to be snarky and act like I'm way older and wiser than my years. But the moment I hear him speak, there's just something about his tone that makes my pain suddenly feel...negligible.

"Ineededto help you, Sarica. I know it's hard to understand, and maybe one day I'll be able to explain it to you...but just know that it was not pity that made me help you. Ineededto do it, and I would not have minded if I had to die trying."

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