Page 58 of Devil's Tulip

My eyes snap open to see Pauline, one of the maids who’ve been… not exactly kind, but never outright cruel either in the past, hovering over me, her face tight with urgency. I sit up too fast, trying to ignore the pain that slices through me, but my breath catches in my throat, and something shifts from my chest, hitting the floor with a soft thud.

I peek over the edge of the bed.

An ice pack.

“Did you put that on me?” I ask her, genuinely surprised. She could get in serious trouble for that.

She bites her lip and nods hesitantly. “I thought you might need it, but you were already asleep when I came in last night, and I didn’t want to wake you. So… I just placed it there.”

A small, reluctant warmth spreads in my chest. “Thank you.” I try to smile, to show her I mean it, but my lips pull, making me wince.

“You need to get dressed right away.” She glances over her shoulder like she expects someone to barge in at any moment.Someone like Dario.My stomach knots, and I eye the door warily.

“The master wants you in his office,” she continues. “He says it’s important—that I should bring you right away.”

What fresh hell awaits now?

I sigh heavily as I carefully swing my legs over the edge of the bed. “Alright, thank you, Pauline. I’ll be right there.”

Once she’s gone, I drag myself to the bathroom, where I quickly swish some mouthwash around my sore mouth. Uncle Aldo doesn’t like waiting, and I can’t risk getting hit again today.

The pain meds must have kicked in because, despite the mirror’s evidence—bruises on my face, scab at the corner of my lips, dark splotches on my chest—I don’t feel as much pain as I did last night.

I spit out the mouthwash, rinse my face, and head to the closet. The bra goes on first, followed by a loose sweatshirt—not because I’m cold, but because I need something that won’t press against my bruises—along with a pair of slacks. My fingers work fast, twisting my hair into a bun while carefully avoiding the wounded spot on my scalp. The skin there is oversensitive, still smarting a little.

For a second, I consider putting on concealer to hide the bruises on my face, but there’s no time. And really, I don’t give a shit about covering them up. What’s the point, anyway?

I leave my room, making my way to Uncle Aldo’s office, his men studiously avoiding my gaze as I pass them—which is nothing new. Outside the office door, I pause, trying to hear what’s going on in there.

Is Carlo here this early for our supposed wedding?I’d rather die.

But it’s silent in there, so I exhale and knock to announce my presence.

“Come in.”

Huh. There’s something off about Uncle Aldo’s voice this morning. It’s thin, almost like he’s scared shitless.

That’s… weird.

I open the door and walk in, coming to a sudden halt when I see him—the tall, restless figure pacing the office floor.Michael.

My heart does a long, hopeful thud that I immediately try to squash.

He turns sharply at the sound of the door, his electric blue eyes locking onto mine, and goes still. His gaze sweeps over me, widening in surprise as he takes me in. Then, in three long strides, he’s in front of me, raising a hand towards my face.

I flinch back reflexively.

His jaw clenches, eyes hardening into murderous ice. “Who did this to you?” he growls.

17

GIANNA

Who did this to me?

Who the hell does he think did this to me?

Rage propels me forward. My hand slams into his chest, but he doesn’t even flinch. So I hit him again, and again, and again, my lips trembling as I spit out, “What business is it of yours who did this to me?”

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