Page 60 of Porcelain Lies

The embrace that should feel comforting now makes my skin crawl. Every point of contact reminds me of Gianni’s revelations — months of theft, deliberate deception, choosing drugs over our parents’ funerals. My brother held these secrets while I planned both services alone.

“You’re right,” I murmur into his shoulder, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “You don’t.”

He stiffens slightly, but seems to take it as sisterly teasing rather than the accusation it is. When he pulls back, his smile is grateful and innocent — the same expression he used to give me when I’d cover for his teenage mishaps with our parents.

How many other lies has that boyish face hidden?

“I promise I’ll make it up to you somehow,” he says, squeezing my hands. “Once this is all over, I’ll get clean. For real this time. No more schemes, no more—”

“Save it.” I extract my fingers from his grip, unable to bear another false promise. The clock on my wall shows 8 AM — fourteen hours until I have to face Gianni. My stomach churns at the thought of what “making it up to me” really entails.

Nick mistakes my nausea for doubt about his promises. “I mean it this time, Stella. You’ll see. Everything’s going to be different.”

I turn away, pretending to straighten the throw pillows so he won’t see my expression. His words echo Gianni’s countless apologies after I caught him cheating — more pretty lies from men I trusted. The black dress hangs in my closet like a sentence, waiting to be served.

And I feel like the proverbial lamb being led to the slaughter.

Chapter Eighteen

Stella

My hands won’t stop shaking as I apply another coat of mascara. The wand slips, leaving a black smudge under my eye.

“Damn it.” I grab a tissue, dabbing at the mark while my reflection stares back with haunted green eyes. The tissue crumples in my fist. My stomach churns with anxiety about facing Gianni again.

I lean closer to the mirror, carefully reapplying the concealer under my eyes. The dark circles refuse to disappear completely, thanks to my sleepless night spent watching Nick toss and turn on my couch. My only remaining family member and I barely recognize him anymore.

The lipstick tube rattles against the counter as I pick it up. Deep breath. Steady hands. I trace the rich burgundy across my lips, the color bold and defiant. Let Gianni see what he lost. Let him think I’ve moved on, that I’m strong enough to face him without breaking.

My phone buzzes with a traffic alert. Construction on Wilshire. Accident on Santa Monica Boulevard. My carefully planned route dissolves into a maze of red lines on the map.

The lipstick clatters into the sink as panic spikes through my chest. Gianni’s timeline was explicit. Being late isn’t an option, not with Nick’s life hanging in the balance.

The drive takes forever, and by the time I arrive, I have minutes to spare. My heels echo through the foyer. Two minutes left by the time I reach his front door.

“You can do this,” I whisper, channeling Boyana’s steady voice in my head. I smooth my hair, squeeze my eyes shut, and then knock on the door.

The door swings open. My carefully rehearsed speech dies in my throat.

Gianni stands there completely naked, his olive skin gleaming in the dim light. That familiar smirk plays across his lips as his hazel eyes rake over me.

My body goes rigid. The air leaves my lungs in a sharp gasp as understanding crashes through me. This was never about money. This is about power. About humiliation.

“Come in,cara.” His voice carries that silky tone I once found endearing. Now it makes my skin crawl. He steps back, giving me an unobstructed view of his sculpted body. “We have business to discuss, no?”

I can’t move. My fingers dig into my purse strap as he reaches for my arm.

“What’s wrong? You’ve seen it all before.” His gold-flecked eyes glitter with cruel amusement. “This is the price of my help. Take it or leave it.”

He adjusts his signet ring, a casual gesture I’ve seen a thousand times. The familiar motion in this twisted context makes bile rise in my throat.

“Did you really think I’d just give you the money?” His perfect teeth flash. “Everything has a cost,bella. You know how this works.”

I force my eyes up to his face, refusing to let his nakedness intimidate me. “This isn’t necessary, Gianni. We can discuss terms like business people.”

“Business?” He laughs, the sound echoing through his marble foyer. “What do you have to offer besides your body,cara? Your event planning skills?”

“I can work for you. Pay it back with interest.” My voice stays level despite the tremor in my hands. “Set up meetings, handle logistics—”

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