Page 64 of Devil's Tulip

“You’re strong, Gianna. But even the strongest soldiers have their weak moments. And that’s fine. You might feel like you’ve hit rock bottom, and I’m not going to argue with you about that. But want to know a sweet secret?”

Silence.

Then, finally, she glances up at me through liquid whiskey eyes, luminous with tears, and my heart squeezes so painfully it’s damn near unbearable. I hate this.I hate seeing her hurt.That realization hits me in the gut—I’m in way deeper than I initially thought.Fuck.

“Well?” she asks, wiping her tears with a little sniff. “Don’t keep me hanging. What’s the sweet secret?”

I blink at her, thrown for a moment. Then I clear my throat. “The only way to go from the bottom is up. And I’m going to be here with you every step of the way.”

“No, you won’t. Because I won’t be here for longer than a day.”

The ache in my chest eases at the return of her sass, and I let out a low chuckle. “Huh. We’ll see about that.” I push to myfeet and head towards the door, swinging it open to find Morgan waiting outside. Tilting my head, I motion for him to come in.

Gianna stands the second he walks in. “If you want me to submit myself to be fully checked by this doctor of yours, then you need to get out.”

Next to me, Morgan inhales sharply. He’s never seen anyone defy me and have their head remain attached to their bodies.

I narrow my eyes at her, and she meets my gaze head-on, chin lifted in pure, stubborn defiance. I fucking know that look.

Without a word, I nod at Morgan, whose lips part slightly as I turn to leave.Whatever. He knows to keep his fucking mouth shut, so I trust no one will find out about this little interlude. And if Gianna thinks to solicit his help to get out of here, she’s in for a rude awakening.

I don’t keep as many men around me as my brothers do—I detest having to interact with other humans for longer than necessary—but the few people I do keep are loyal to the bone. Not a single one would ever go against me.

Morgan is in there with her for over thirty minutes, and I spend the duration glued to my phone screen, pacing the hallway as I watch their interaction through the live feed. Surprisingly, Gianna doesn’t speak unless spoken to first, and even though my video doesn’t have audio, I can tell Morgan’s just asking her questions about her bruises.

My fingers clench around my phone as I watch her wince and flinch away when he prods at a sore spot. The sight sends another wave of fury crashing through me, and with Dario dead, there’s only one direction left for it to go.Aldo. The man who should have fucking protected his niece. And if Dario had the audacity to hit her enough to bruise her like this, what the hell has Aldo done to her?

My blood boils as I exit the camera feed to fire off a text to Lorenzo.

Put one of our men on Aldo’s tail. Now. I want eyes on him at all times. I’ll start digging into him myself too.

As I finish sending the text, my bedroom door opens, and Morgan steps out, expression grim. “She took a bad beating, but apart from that, she’s perfectly healthy and well on the road of healing.”

I nod. At least there’s that.

“She took some painkillers last night—more than she should have—so I told her to hold off for now. I left her something to take later, though. She’ll be right as rain soon.”

“Alright.” I exhale slowly. “I appreciate you coming so quickly.”

“Anytime man.” He smirks. “You seem to have your hands full with that one, so you have my sympathies.”

I take a threatening step towards him, and he quickly spins around, walking away like the hounds of hell are nipping at his ankles.

Shaking my head, I hesitate briefly, then head back to my room, where Gianna is now lying on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Hey, you good?”

“I’m not marrying you, Michael. I’m not,” she says quietly.

I sigh, hating that I have to resort to my last options. I had hoped she’d agree to the wedding on her own terms, but she seems pretty resolute. Not that I blame her. If I were her, I wouldn’t trust me either.

“You do realize Aldo and Carlo will never let you go, don’t you?”

She turns her head, questioning me with her eyes, so I continue, “I killed his son. Who do you think he’s going toblame? Dario? Me?” I shake my head. “No, the blame is going to fall squarely on you, because to him, you’re the easiest target.”

She flinches, her skin paling, and I almost stop—but I continue ruthlessly, needing her to see the full picture. “Carlo is going to keep sending his own men after you because he’s already upheld his end of the deal with Aldo. The only thing left is your marriage with him. You think he’s just going to give up?”

I don’t tell her about the rumors circulating that Carlo is having marriage troubles, which I know he won’t take too lightly; he might resort to trying to hurt her—or worse. Everyone knows the unfortunate fate of his previous wives.

“I’m not going to marry him,” she says, stubborn as ever.

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