Page 103 of Devil's Tulip

GIANNA

The past few days have been blissful—the best days of my life—and today is extra, extra blissful. My toes tap against the foot of the car in glee, and I lift my head from the warm sanctuary of Michael’s shoulder to peer out the window, too restless to stay still.

“That excited?” Michael chuckles, rubbing his thumb over my fingers where my hand is still tucked possessively in the crook of his arm.

“Yes!” I practically squeal, twisting to face him. “I can’t believe youactuallybought a hospital for me.” I glance down at the deed in my hand for the hundredth time, half-expecting it to vanish like some cruel mirage. How can this be real? How can everything change so drastically, so quickly?

Just two months ago, I was convinced my life was over—doomed to an existence of cleaning other people’s houses, serving drinks in seedy bars, and remaining on the run with no chance of ever settling down. And yet, here I am today, married to a billionaire who seems to love spending his money on me no matter how extravagant it is.

“Believe it, love, because it’s real.” Michael’s eyes glow down at me, burning with something so fierce, so intense, it makes my breath hitch.

Did I ever think his eyes were cold? God, I was wrong, so wrong.

They’re like twin infernos—blue flames that threaten to incinerate me with how bright and hot they glow.

I should be afraid, but I’m not.I’m drawn to that fire.

I grin at him before my gaze drops down to the deed again. Carefully, I untuck my hand from his and trace my fingertips over my name written neatly on the paper.

Gianna Tulipa Hart. That’s who I am now. Mrs. Hart.I love it.

The car dips slightly as it slows, the gentle pull of motion making me blink back to the present. My legs jiggle with barely contained excitement as we turn and pull up into a reserved parking spot in front of a four-story building.

“Maximo’s already talking with his men. They’ll start work on renovating the entire building tomorrow. By the time they’re done, it will be as good as new.”

Marco kills the engine, then steps out to give us privacy just as two cars pull up on either side of ours. But I don’t bother looking at the men inside—they’re Michael’s men, or as he likes to say now, ‘our’ men.

I’ve never been part of an ‘our’ before. And I really,reallylike it.

“It’s fine. It’s beautiful.” And I mean it. Not in the way new mothers insist their wrinkly, potato-skinned babies are beautiful, but in a real, genuine way. Yes, the building’s white paint is peeling and stained, some of the windows are broken, patched over with tarpaulin, and there’s no sign anywhere to indicate the name of the hospital.

But it’s mine.Mine.

Not just in thought, not just in dreams—but in name. He could have easily written his own name on the deed and simply asked me to run the place or just work there, but it’s inmyname. That’s the part that’s really blowing my mind. Old building or not, it couldn’t have come cheap.

I fold the deed neatly into my purse, then turn to face my husband. “Have I thanked you?”

“You already did, but I wouldn’t mind you thanking me some more… like you did this morning,” he taunts, running a hand down my face. His fingers twitch like he wants to play with my hair, but he’s respecting my wishes to look professional today.

Although only the medical director knows the building is mine, I still want to project a polished and elegant persona to the rest of the staff. After all, I’ll be working alongside them soon as Michael’s wife, and I need their respect.

I tilt my head teasingly. “I would kiss you, but I’ll only end up smudging my lipstick all over your mouth, and cherry red isn’t quite your color.”

His eyes darken as they drop to my lips. He leans in, voice dipping into a growl. “Try me. Fucking kiss me, Gianna.”

I’m about to, already closing the distance, lids drooping—when a light knock sounds on the window. I glance out to see Lorenzo waiting, pointedly tapping his watch.

“I don’t care about keeping the schedule,kiss me,” Michael insists.

“Well,Icare.” I sit up and unlock my door. “I want to make a good first impression.”

“And you will. Anyone who doesn’t think so—or looks at you the wrong way—will lose their eyes.” My husband’s voice turns savage.

“Michael!” I half-laugh, glancing at him in disbelief, expecting to see humor dancing in his eyes, but my laughter dies when I realize—holy hell—he isn’t joking. “Baby, you can’t goaround plucking my staff’s eyes out, no matter how they look at me.”

“We’ll see.” His answer is maddeningly noncommittal, though the corners of his lips twitch ever so slightly. I roll my eyes and reach for the door handle, but his hand stops me. “You’re not opening your door yourself. Hold on.”

He gets out on his side, and I take a moment to admire the way his tall, lithe frame moves as he rounds the hood of the car. Damn. The man looks absolutely mouthwatering.

---