Page 13 of Her Brutal First Love

Everything in him wanted to believe her. And that her actions in the past three months had been nothing but a terrible misunderstanding. He wanted to believe it was all a lie. But how could he...when she also turned out to be Seijcut?

Why say she loved him when she had also used his own money to place a bounty on his head?

"At least tell me," Sarica was asking him brokenly. "Tell me why didn't you come back?"

The question struck too close to secrets he couldn't reveal, and Giancarlo could feel her hope fading as silence stretched between them.

"Why didn't you at least let us know that you're alive?"

He knew what she wanted him to say.

But because he also knew what was at stake—-

"Because that part of my life is over."

Giancarlo could only give her the truth she needed to hear.

Chapter Five

Four days.

He had forced himself to stay away for four days, each hour a test of will he wasn't sure he was passing. The security feeds taunted him with glimpses of Sarica, and it didn't matter what she was doing; anything she did, he wanted to do with her. For her. Or to her.

He would catch her having lunch, and he would remember the years when mealtimes were the only moments he had allowed himself to sit close to her, talking, and having a world of their own even though the rest of theirfamigliasurrounded them.

He would see her enter the en-suite to shower and he wanted to be the one soaping her body. He would see her asleep in bed, and it was all he could do not to join her and have her curl up next to him.

It was insanity to watch her all the time. But it was an addiction he could not control.

It killed him to keep his distance, but Giancarlo also knew the more often he visited her, the closer he could succumb to playing with fire.

In their world, all it would take was one spark.

One moment of weakness.

And everything he'd sacrificed these past sixteen months would burn to ashes.

So just stay away, Marchetti.

Go back to how you had lived your life in the past sixteen months, and all you had then were dreams of her.

Forget she ever existed, for both your sake.

But this was easier said than done, and when work brought Giancarlo back to the same office building where Sarica was kept hidden in a basement suite, the temptation proved too strong to resist.

Just one look.

He promised himself that was all he'd allow. One glimpse to satiate the need that clawed at his chest day and night. His fingers found the light switch outside her door, hesitating for just a moment. Total darkness would be safer. Would let him see without being seen. Would let him maintain the control that seemed to slip through his fingers whenever she was near.

The lock disengaged with a soft click, and he entered silently, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. The sound reached him first—quiet, broken sounds that made his heart clench. Moonlight filtered through the high windows, casting just enough light to show him her silhouette.

She was crying.

The realization shattered his resolve like glass. Before he could stop himself, he was moving toward her, drawn by an instinct deeper than reason or duty or obligation. His feet carried him across the Persian carpet, past the untouched dinner tray on the marble coffee table, through the shadows that seemed to mock his attempt at restraint.

Sarica threw herself at him the moment he was close enough to touch, her arms wrapping around his neck, her legs locked around his waist.

"Gotcha."

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