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SEX IS A MAN'S LOVE language.

I'm tempted to throw my iPhone away the moment I finish reading the article.

Bull.

Shit.

I don't care how many degrees the author of this online article has.

All I know is that this guy can't be absolutely right.

Because if he is...then I'm absolutely fucked.

So, no.

Everything he's written here has to be pure b.s., and only an idiot—-

Cattleya suddenly enters the Marchettis' second-floor library, and her eyes have already widened by the time I remember to flip my phone face down.

" Wow ."

"It's not what you think." I feel like I've been saying this more and more recently, and that's not good at all. It makes me sound like a liar, which I'm not. Honest!

Cattleya slips back into her seat across mine. Both of us are unofficial wards of the Marchettis, but that's the only similarity we have between us. Cat's parents were good people...and they were also murdered because they were good. My father obviously isn't in the same category, and I guess that's why he's still alive.

"So..." Cat looks at me with a rueful smile. "The new girls working in the kitchen have been talking about Giancarlo nonstop."

And Cat being Cat, of course, she'd know about this. There's just something about the other girl that makes her, well...cat-like. She has this amazing ability to slip in and out of a room without anyone knowing. Moreover, people also often say things in her presence that they normally wouldn't say out loud because they don't even realize—-

"So I understand why you're bothered and jealous," Cat finishes.

—-she's completely out of her mind, for thinking I'm what?

Bothered?

And jealous?

HA.

My life would be a lot simpler if that were true.

But even if it's not—-

"What exactly have the new girls been saying?" I ask curiously.

"Nothing unusual, really," she answers with a shrug. "Every time we have new staff coming in, they always end up comparing one Marchetti brother to another for some reason—-"

A question flashes in my mind, and I grin at her mischievously. "Pop quiz! Who's your favorite Marchetti and why? You have five seconds to answer. Five, fo—-"

"No comment."

I stare at her in amazement. " Wow. You actually have a favorite?"

"How does having no comment mean I have a favorite?"

Even though both Cat's expression and tone are perfectly bland, I'm not fooled at all. "You definitely have a favorite." She's just too nice to admit it out loud, being the nice person that she is. "The only question is who—-"

The other girl interrupts me, asking, "Do you still want to know what the new girls have to say about Giancarlo or not?"

Even though I know what she's trying to do here, my EQ where Giancarlo's concerned has become worryingly low of late, and I'm successfully distracted.

"What did they say about him?"

"One of the new girls calls herself Giancarlo's #1 fan."

Yup, I'm just distracted, but not jealous.

Honest.

"And here's the interesting thing I overheard her share," Cat goes on. "She says she's been looking for years—-"

I let out a gasp. "This is about the Ruiz case, isn't it?" The Marchettis are a popular subject amongst true-crime fanatics, and I've lost count of how many wannabe podcasters have spouted baseless conspiracy theories in their desire to link Boston's ruling famiglia to the disappearance of Justina Ruiz. "She's looking for evidence—-"

"Actually, she's been on a virtual hunt for photos—-"

I knew it!

"Of a shirtless Giancarlo," Cat ends with a sheepish smile.

Say...what?

Cat bursts into laughter when my jaw drops.

"I know what you're thinking, but I swear I didn't make any of that up."

"A shirtless photo of Giancarlo?" I'm sputtering at the sheer idiocy of it. "And she says she's been searching for it for years ?"

"I heard the others squealing when this girl showed them photos of the other Marchettis. Don't you think it's interesting that Giancarlo hasn't one on the Internet?"

"No."

Cat peers at my face as if I'm a puzzle to be solved, but she only laughs when I shove her away.

"Something tells me you're more bothered than you're willing to admit," Cat teases.

"You're imagining things," I huff.

"Cheer up, Sari. You might not be his #1 fan, but at least you're still his fiancée."

Grrrr!

We spend the rest of the afternoon bickering back and forth, and I'm still not over her horribly misinformed opinion even when we've already left the library and gotten ready for dinner.

Why the hell would I care about being his #1 fan?

Being anyone's fan is for losers.

And I'm not a loser.

I'm not!

But the moment I'm seated next to Giancarlo for dinner that evening, I take one look at his too-perfect face, and I just want to punch it.

This is all his fault, dammit!

He shouldn't be so perfect that he has other girls wanting to be his #1 fan—-

"Is everything alright?"

Like you really care.

He's a man, after all. I'm just the bitchy fiancée he's stuck with while his self-proclaimed fan is probably this walking Coca-Cola bottle who's oozing with honey and—-

"Sarica?"

"I'm fine," I say shortly. "I just have something on my mind."

"Such as?"

I shrug. "It's nothing serious."

"I think it is," he murmurs, "but we can talk about it later."

My eyes widen.

Later?

I'm dying to ask him what he means by this, but with La Strega already motioning for the staff to serve the first course, there's no chance to speak about private matters, and I'm left to internally squirm in my seat for the rest of the evening.

It's been over a year since the Angel of Death made me realize why Giancarlo is painstakingly careful not to be alone with me. I honestly thought things would change the moment I turned eighteen, and I was secretly but also shamefully relieved when the status quo remained.

Giancarlo only talks to me when we're in the dining room with others, and so this bombshell of his about having a discussion... later?

It makes every minute feel like torture, and as soon as the staff clears the table and prepares to serve coffee, I'm unable to wait a second longer, and all eyes turn to me as I jump to my feet.

I open my mouth to speak, but before I can get another word out, Giancarlo has also risen from his seat and places his hand on the small of my back as he asks, "May we be excused, nonna? There is something I wish to speak in private with my fidanzata ."

" Certo ." Of course.

"Grazie, nonna ."

I can't help gritting my teeth as Giancarlo guides me out of the dining room. I hate how he always finds a way to give off this impression we're in sync about everything, and I glare at him as soon as we're out of sight.

"You made it seem like we've agreed about this."

"Was I wrong? I can't seem to recall you disagreeing."

Grr!

"You look furious," he murmurs.

And that surprises him, seriously?

"You're so full of yourself," I growl out.

"But not wrong."

The words literally have me growling, and Giancarlo chuckles.

"I cannot help being right, Sarica," he says lazily. "Just like I cannot help being perfect."

This, dammit!

This is what I hate the most about him.

He's only the most fucking obnoxious jerk around me because he damn well knows no one's going to believe me if I tell the whole world the truth about him.

"I hate you, hate you, hate you—-"

A horrified gasp cuts me off, and both Giancarlo and I turn towards the sound.

The woman's face is unfamiliar, but the dismay on her face is telling.

It's her.

I'm not jealous or anything, I swear.

But I'm absolutely convinced it's her.

The new hire who calls herself Giancarlo's #1 fan.

And for some reason, this thought has me looking up at Giancarlo—-

Oh.

He's staring at the other woman, but his expression can only be described as the opposite of gentleness. It's not cold or hard per se. But it's just not...gentle.

Oh.

Oh no.

That's not good at all.

I know exactly how it feels to be a recipient of such a look, and sure enough, when my gaze flies back to the new hire, it's to see her pale and shaking. It's as if the sun has suddenly turned its back on her, and when Giancarlo finally speaks—-

"Has it not been made clear to you which part of the house are you authorized to access?"

"I-I'm s-sorry, s-si—- "

Giancarlo raises a hand, and she shuts up even as she starts to cry.

My own unease turns to shock when I listen to Giancarlo make a call. A few moments later, the girl is being escorted out of the house...for good.

"W-What—-"

Giancarlo only looks at me, and I snap my mouth shut.

Fuck.

I know manners mean everything to their famiglia, but what the fuck?

I march past him and throw the door open to his study.

He enters right behind me, and a crazy mix of emotions rages through me as I stare at him. He shuts the door, and as soon as he turns to face me again—-

"What the hell was that?" I burst out. "It's her first day, for fuck's sake. She just happened to be at the wrong place—-"

"That's reason enough."

"Are you fucking—-"

"The day Martino and his friends were able to abduct you—-"

My face whitens.

"It was because you were at the wrong place, too. Weren't you?"

I can't believe Giancarlo of all people would bring that up without warning.

"Fuck you—- "

"No, Sarica. Fuck them . "

It's my first time to hear him drop an F-bomb, and it makes me take a step back—-

"Do you remember asking me why I saved you?"

—-not out of fear, but pain.

"Do you remember me telling you that it was something I needed to do?"

Because even though his tone hasn't changed at all, every word he speaks now is breaking my heart.

"And how I didn't care if I died trying?"

It's the past all over again, dammit.

One moment, I feel like I'm the fucking victim between us, but the next thing I know, I'm the one with a tiny head bump while it's Giancarlo once again bleeding to death in front of me.

"All these years, I couldn't make up my mind if I ever had to tell you the truth. It's one of the few things in life I found myself...indecisive. But after what happened tonight..."

His lips twist, and my own heart twists alongside it in shared pain.

"All it takes is for a person to be at the wrong place, Sarica, and you can lose everything...the way I lost everything."

His face has turned into an expressionless mask.

And yet I could've sworn I heard his heart crack with every word he uttered.

"The night my father and grandfather were ambushed...I should've been there. With them. But I wasn't. I was at the wrong place. And...that was all it took."

No. Oh no. No.

I don't want to hear this, God.

I can't.

But it's too late.

The moment Giancarlo's voice turns hoarse, something inside of me starts to stir.

And the moment I see him close his eyes as if his own eyes have him trapped, it's that same thing which comes into life—-

No. No. No.

I watch Giancarlo's fists clench as he fights off his demons. I watch him drag air into his lungs as he frees himself from the past all on his own. When he opens his eyes again, it's the same Giancarlo that I know.

The same Giancarlo that has been by my side for the past four years.

He looks at me again, and it's the same dark eyes that have been watching me...and watching over me all this time.

"Do you understand now?"

His voice is gentle once more. It's as if I only imagined the hoarseness I heard earlier. It's only as if I imagined his pain. And vulnerability. But I know I didn't, and I also know I'll never be able to forget it...even if I wished I could.

"That is all it takes to lose everything. To be at the wrong place."

Yes, dammit.

How can I not get it when he's cut his heart out just to make his point?

"And so do you also understand why I will never let you go?"

To deny this would be a lie, but even so—-

"We both know you're not stupid," I say stiltedly. "So you have to know that it's not your fault—-"

"You have never been stupid either," Giancarlo interjects flatly, "but did you not once blame yourself for being abducted and almost raped?"

"That's in the past—-"

"But if you found out another girl is to be abducted and raped, and you have a chance to put a stop to it, would you not do everything to save her?"

Fuck.

I hate, hate, hate this part of him, too.

I hate it when he's always the one to remind me that both of us are peas from the same fucking pod.

I hate it when he makes it sound like the two of us together makes beautiful sense.

I hate it, dammit.

But not as much as I fear it, and that's why—-

"What's up with this, anyway?"

I find myself changing the subject like a coward, and all so I don't have to hear him say words that make it seem like the two of us are destined.

Because we're fucking not.

"You've never bothered to speak with me in private. So why are you suddenly—-"

"Because it's no longer prohibited."

The way he confirms the truth so casually throws me off, and I end up blurting out the first thought that pops into my mind.

"So it's true? What Maryse said? That you didn't want to risk being called a pedophile?"

His gaze bores through me. "What other reason could there be?"

"How the hell would I know? I don't really know you—-"

"Because you chose not to know me."

"Excuse me?" I can't help feeling defensive at how he accuses me so easily . "Shouldn't that go both ways? Because you also don't know—-"

"Try me."

Oh, so he's really going to challenge me on this?

"What's my favorite color?"

Amusement gleams in his eyes. "That's really what you want to ask?"

Childish or not, it still proves my fucking point, so—-

"Yes," I retort with a proud tilt of my chin. "That's exactly what I want to ask—-"

"It's pink—-"

Ha!

"But because you'd rather die than admit this, you always lie and tell anyone who cares to ask that your favorite color is black."

H-H-How the fuck did he know that?

"You also hate drinking anything hot because it reminds you of what you didn't experience when you were a child: someone to tell you ice-cold drinks may leave your throat sore."

What the fuck?

"You have ' Everybody Wants to Rule the World' on repeat when you study, and I know this because I'm the one who pays for your music subscription. It's why I also know you watch Korean dramas at night, on mute. You've forgotten how I'm also the one paying for your streaming subscriptions—-"

Somebody fucking do something before I fucking—-

"I can practically hear you swearing in your mind," Giancarlo drawls.

"Should I say it out loud then?" I snarl.

"If you want to be spanked for it, be my guest."

S-S-Spanked?

I stare at him in a mix of shock and outrage, but when he only gazes back at me calmly, the words fly out of my mouth in a livid cry.

"W-What's gotten into you?"

"This is how I have always been."

"A jerk?"

"You may call it however way you wish. Only take care not to forget that everything will be different, now that both of us are adults—-"

"Is that some kind of fucking threat?"

"A promise."

"Yeah right—-"

"Careful now, dolcezza ."

It's his first time to address me with an endearment, and it actually steals my breath away.

What the hell is going on?

"I may be a lot of things, but have I ever lied to you?"

I stare at him mutinously, but silence isn't enough for him.

"Have I?"

" No ."

But damn him for forcing me to say this.

"And have I ever given you any reason to distrust me?"

"You already know—-"

"Yes or no, Sarica."

" No! Happy now?"

"Not yet. Although I suppose I will be once I've made my point clear. But first, I need your hand."

What? Why? Fuck no!

"Your hand, Sarica."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I find myself placing my hand in his even as I hate myself for doing so.

"Now, look at me while I'm holding your hand."

What the hell?

" Look at me."

The command in his words is unmistakable this time, and I find myself obeying even as it makes me hate myself even more.

I look at him.

"What do you see?"

A man with silver streaks in his dark hair. A man who's sixteen years older, but also sixteen thousand light years ahead of me in experience. A man whom the world loves to describe as both gorgeous and gentle. A man whom practically everyone sees as the prince of thieves.

I see the man that others see.

But I can't seem to make myself feel the way the whole world feels about him.

And when I look into his eyes...

Fuck.

I realize that he's always known this, and I don't know, dammit.

"You never saw me as a man."

I don't know what I should feel, knowing that he also knows the truth.

"But it's going to change now."

And before I realize what he's doing, he's already placed my hand on his chest.

Fuck!

I immediately try yanking my hand away, but his lips only curve even as his grip on my hand tightens.

"L-Let go—-"

"You feel it, don't you?"

"I don't know what the hell—-"

"The way you make my heart race."

Noooooooo.

I don't know why those words scare me, but it does.

I don't know why, but it terrifies me to death.

"Whatever you think you're doing," I hear myself snarl out, "it won't work!"

"Let me worry about that," he says softly.

"I will n-never see you as a man—-"

He presses my hand more closely to his chest, and my voice falters as I become inexplicably, foolishly, and agonizingly aware of what I'm touching.

This...

This is his skin.

His flesh.

It's Giancarlo's chest I'm touching, his chest that feels smooth, hard, and hot under my skin.

It's him I'm touching.

And I don't understand why that matters, but it suddenly does.

"You understand now, dolcezza ? How everything has started to change?"

He sounds so fucking self-assured that I just can't help it.

"Fuck you!"

But I regret it as soon as I say it.

And just a bit terrified.

Because childhood wounds never really heal completely, and I think there'll always be a part of me that would wonder if a day would ever come that even someone like Giancarlo would—-

"In time..."

And there it is, I think dully.

He's going to tell me the same things my father used to say, just before he'd start beating me up.

In time... you'll learn not to disrespect me.

In time... you'll know what's good for you.

In time...

"You will."

My heart stops beating.

Giancarlo lets go of my hand.

And still I wait...for nothing, it seems.

I don't get it.

Is that really it?

In time , he says, you will...what?

Dark eyes gleam at me.

"Do you need it spelled out, dolcezza ?"

It seems like I do, but I'm too proud to admit it out loud.

" You said, 'fuck you.' And my reply is..."

His earlier words echo in my mind—-

In time...you will.

And this time, to both our surprise—-

I actually end up... blushing .