12. Gia

12

GIA

I sit cross-legged on the playroom floor, surrounded by blocks and toys Max bought for the kids. Daniella sprawls across my lap while Dario zooms around the room with a toy plane, making engine noises.

"Higher, higher!" Daniella squeals as I lift her up, pretending she's flying too. Her giggles echo off the walls.

"Look out below!" Dario crashes his plane into a tower of blocks, sending them scattering across the carpet. We all burst into laughter at the staged destruction.

"My turn to be the plane!" Daniella scrambles off my lap. I chase them both around the room with my arms spread wide, making whooshing sounds until we collapse in a giggling heap.

Later, with pajamas on and teeth brushed, I gather them onto Dario’s bed with their favorite book. They snuggle close as I open to the first page of Where the Wild Things Are .

"The night Max wore his wolf suit…" I begin, doing all the voices just the way they like. Their eyes grow heavy as the story progresses, but they fight sleep to see Max sail back over a year of nights and days.

I finish the story, closing the book. Daniella's already dozed off against my shoulder. I carry her to her own bed, tucking her in with a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Then I pull Dario’s covers up to his chin. "Sweet dreams, my little pilot."

"’Night," he mumbles, eyes fluttering closed.

I brush his dark hair back and kiss his cheek. “’Night, baby."

Standing in the doorway, I watch their peaceful faces for a moment before quietly pulling their doors almost closed.

I start down to my room. A shadow moves in the hallway. Max blocks my path, his broad frame filling the space.

"We need to finish our conversation." His voice stays low, mindful of the sleeping children.

I cross my arms. "There's nothing to discuss."

"That's not your call to make." His jaw tightens.

I arch a brow, hating his controlling behavior. My life. My kids’ life. They’re my responsibility, not his.

“You’re not the boss of me,” I say, hating how childish that sounds.

He lets out a frustrated grown. “I’m the boss of your safety, Gia.”

“Fine. Noted. I’m going to bed.”

“We need to talk. I know you’d prefer to ignore me, but I’m not going anywhere until we talk.”

I consider refusing, but the determined set of his shoulders tells me he won't let this go. “Fine.” I lean against the hallway wall. “Talk.”

"Let's take this to the living room." He gestures to the kids’ room. "I don't want to wake them."

With a sigh, I follow him down the hallway. "But I still maintain there's nothing to talk about that hasn’t already been said."

Max's shoulders tense at my words as he leads the way. The moonlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows casts long shadows across the living room.

I sink into the plush leather couch, pulling my knees up to my chest. Max paces in front of the windows, his profile sharp against the glow of the moonlight.

"Your safety comes first." He stops pacing to face me. "Whatever you or the kids need, I'll provide it. Books, toys, games?—"

"They're five, Max. They need more than just stuff."

"Gia." He crouches in front of me, his eyes intense. "I promised to protect you. All of you. Let me do that."

"Who’s stopping you? I took proper precautions. It’s not like I snuck out alone.”

"There's someone out there watching you, threatening you. Until we know who and why, you stay here where I can keep you safe."

“There’s no indication anyone has followed me out here. But more importantly, the kids need room to run. The park was perfectly secure. Your men?—"

"My men shouldn't have taken that risk." His jaw clenches. "I've already dealt with that breach in protocol."

"So you fired them? For showing basic human compassion?"

“Not fired, but they’ll think twice before risking your safety again.” He straightens up, towering over me. "I don't care if you hate me for this, but I won't compromise on your safety. Whatever you need, you’ll have it, starting with a playground. I've arranged for someone to come and assess the yard and plan for a play area. Swings, slides, whatever they need. You won't have to leave the compound."

I stare at Max, momentarily speechless. A playground? The gesture is sweet, warming my heart despite my determination to stay detached.

"You're… building them a playground?"

"Yes." He shifts his weight, hands in his pockets.

The mental image forms, my children's delighted faces as they discover their own private park, their squeals of joy as they race down slides and pump their legs on swings. For a moment, I let myself imagine Max pushing them, teaching them to swing higher, catching them at the bottom of the slide.

But then Whitley's perfectly toned body flashes through my mind, the way she stood in this very room practically naked, so confident in her place here. The warmth in my chest turns cold.

"That's… thoughtful." I wrap my arms around myself. "Though I'm sure you'd rather spend your money on other things. Other people."

His brow furrows. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." I stand up, needing space between us. "I just don't want you feeling obligated to spend money on elaborate playgrounds when this is temporary. I'm sure you have other priorities."

Like entertaining gorgeous women who clearly know their way around his house. Women closer to his age who aren't complicated by children and family ties and years of messy history.

"The playground isn't an obligation," Max says, his voice tight. "I want the kids to be happy here."

"Right." I force a smile that feels brittle on my face. "Well, thank you. I'm sure they'll love it." I start toward my room.

“Dammit, Gia, where are you going? Why do you always run off when I’m trying to talk to you?”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Me? I guess I learned it from you last year.”

He closes his eyes for a moment like he’s asking God for strength. He opens them, his dark eyes piercing mind. “About Whitley?—”

I raise a hand to stop him. “I don’t need to know anything about Whitley.”

He studies me. “She’s not in my life.”

“Too bad. She looks like a woman who could show you a good time.”

He shakes his head. “You act like you don’t care that she showed up here ready to fuck me.”

“I don’t care. Well, I don’t want the kids seeing it, but it’s your business.”

“So, after last night, you’re not bothered by her being here?”

“Why would I be bothered?” I wonder how well I’m pulling this lie off. “I'm not that starry-eyed teenager who had a crush on you anymore, Max, the one who thought…" I cut myself off, refusing to revisit those memories. "I've grown up. I understand how things work now.”

"Gia—"

"No." I hold up my hand. "Why don’t you call Whitley? Have your fun. Just keep it away from my kids."

"I don't want her. Fucking hell."

“You’re tense. You should call her.”

“Why are you being like this?” He looks at me like I’ve grown a third eye. Like he doesn’t know me. It occurs to me that he doesn’t know me. He still sees the na?ve eighteen-year-old girl.

“I’m not being like anything. I’ve heard your concerns about our safety and I appreciate everything you’re doing. But you have a life too, Max. I told you last night that I didn’t want me and kids to get in the way of that. Tonight we did?—”

“You didn’t!” He turns away with a harsh, “Fuck!” He whirls back. “You really didn’t care that she was here?”

“It doesn’t matter what I?—”

"It matters." His hands grip my shoulders, and the warmth of his touch sends electricity through my body. "Everything about you matters."

"Stop." I push against his chest, precariously close to pulling him to me instead.

He takes a step back, and something in his eyes makes my heart stutter. "Stop pretending you don't feel what's between us."

"What's between us are history and obligation. Nothing more."

He’s doing that thing again, where he acts like he wasn’t the one putting distance between us.

I see something flicker across his face. Something that looks like pain. "You really believe that? That all I feel for you is obligation?"

I wrap my arms around myself, doubt creeping in. The hurt in his eyes seems genuine. “I think obligation takes precedence over everything else.”

“I see.”

I don’t want to hurt him, but he’s annoying me with his constant change in behavior. “You’re hot one minute, cold the next. You can't seem to make up your mind about me.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but I press on.

"Six years ago, you gave me the most beautiful night of my life. You were tender and caring and everything I dreamed of. Then you disappeared to Vegas without a word."

Max's face tightens with some emotion I can't read.

"And when you finally showed up again last year, you could barely look at me. Now…" I gesture between us. "Now you kiss me one night and act like nothing happened the next morning. Now it appears you’re angry that I’m not jealous of Whitley. I can’t keep up with you, Max."

"I told you last night why I acted that way last year?—”

“What about six years ago? You just… vanished. I mean, I knew it meant nothing to you…" The minute the words leave my mouth, I wish I hadn’t said them. I don’t want him knowing just how much he hurt me.

"That's not true. I just… I couldn't give you what you wanted."

I roll my eyes. "Right. That whole godfather, Nic's friend, age-difference thing."

His jaw is tight as he looks away. It makes me think there's more to the story.

"I wanted to protect you, Gia, I really did."

"From what?"

"From your father. From Aldo.” He turns back to look at me, his eyes filled with sincerity. “I thought about saving you from them."

I'm shocked at his statement and hurt that he didn't follow through. "Right, well, we know what won out. Too taboo to save little Gia. Better to take the big promotion from Don Gino Nardone and move to Vegas to become rich and powerful. Yeah, what a hard choice for you."

His eyes are blazing hot as he stares at me. "We'd both be dead now if I tried to save you."

I stare at him, not sure what he means.

He runs his fingers through his hair. "I don't know what your father knew, but he was aware of the time we spent together, of your crush on me."

“I was an innocent girl?—"

"I'm lucky I got sent here instead of a bullet through the brain.”

My breath hitches. Had that been a possibility? I mean, of course it was if my father found out, but was it possible my father knew about me and Max?

“He told me to leave because if any question of your virginity came up before your marriage to Aldo, your value to him dropped to less than nothing."

I feel sick, my legs weaken, and I sink back down on the couch. "He'd kill me." Of course he would. I knew who my father was. If I’d ruined his deal with Aldo, he’d see it as a betrayal. I’d be of zero use to him and I was disposable.

"I was a coward, Gia, I know. But at the time, I couldn't see a way to save you that wouldn't lead to a high probability of your death. I know life with Aldo wasn't great, but he's dead, I suspect because of Nic. And you have those two great kids… so… tell me I made the wrong choice."

I should tell him the truth now about the kids. And yet, it will make him feel worse, even more guilty to know he didn’t just leave me, but them as well. Is that a good reason to keep the truth from him?

I look down, feeling ashamed for not considering the difficult position he was in. It isn’t that I don’t realize the problems, but I suppose the romantic, na?ve part of me believed if he loved me, it would be enough to overcome all the obstacles.

"No. You weren't wrong." But I also know that my father’s threat wasn’t the only obstacle. Max felt guilty for having slept with me all those years ago because of his role in my life and relationship with my brother. Even without my father, he’d have left.

The silence stretches out between us. It feels like this conversation is over. It feels like something between us has broken.

“I should go to bed.” I rise and start toward the hall.

“What about last night? Have you decided it never happened?”

I stop, wondering why he won’t let this go.

"Last night, you kissed me." I stare at a spot over his shoulder, unable to meet his intense gaze.

"And you kissed me back." His voice drops lower, sending a shiver down my spine. "But I guess it meant nothing since this morning, you acted like it never happened."

Heat floods my cheeks. "You're the one who acted like it never happened. Making breakfast, joking with the kids, not saying a word about it."

"What did you expect me to say with the kids right there?" He steps closer, and I catch the familiar scent of his cologne. "'Hey, kids, pass the pancakes. By the way, I kissed your mother last night.'"

"No, but…" I cross my arms, hating how my body responds to his nearness. "You could have… I don't know, given some sign that it wasn't just…"

"Just what?"

"A mistake." The word comes out barely above a whisper. "Another moment of weakness like six years ago. I’d hate for your guilt to eat at you. And I’m not interested in a repeat of last year when you made it clear that being around me was torture. You couldn't wait to escape back to Vegas."

"Because being near you and not being able to touch you was driving me insane." Max's fingers flex like he wants to touch me, but he doesn’t. "You have no idea what you do to me."

"Right." I scoff, though my heart races at his words. "That's why you treated me like I had the plague. That's why you barely spoke two words to me unless forced."

“I explained all that.”

“You did. So why are you confusing things now? You can’t keep going back and forth like this, Max. It’s not fair to me.”

He watches me and then steps back. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He closes his eyes again. When he opens them, I can see he’s put his buffers back in place. He gives me a wan smile. “You’re right to be wary of me.” He gives me a sheepish smile. “It appears my ego was wounded that you weren’t bothered by Whitley’s visit. But why would you be?” His gaze is soft, but filled with emotion, almost like he’s proud of me. “You’re a strong, beautiful woman, Gia. Stronger than I think anyone gives you credit for.”

“Yeah, well…”

He gives a nod toward his side of the house. “I’m heading off to bed. Goodnight, Gia.”

He’s leaving? All of a sudden, I don’t want him to. Max retreats to his room. The space he leaves feels colder somehow, emptier.

It feels like there’s more to say. That if they’re not said, this distance between us will become permanent. Isn’t that what I want? No. But neither do I want him to keep pulling me close and then pushing me away.

My feet move before my brain catches up. I can't let him walk away, not with so much left unsaid. Not when I've spent the last day convincing myself the kiss meant nothing to him when in fact, I think it did.

"Max, wait." My voice carries down the hallway.

He stops just outside his bedroom but doesn't turn around.

I close the distance between us, my bare feet silent on the carpet. "About Whitley… I, ah… I didn’t like seeing her here, and not just because of the kids. I just… well, I thought you regretted last night. When you acted so normal this morning, I assumed…"

"You assumed wrong." He turns to face me, his expression unguarded for once. “I just didn’t know how to act. Maybe you regretted it.”

I shake my head. “I didn’t regret it. I don’t regret it.”

He leans forward, resting his forehead against mine. “I don’t regret it either. And in case you’re thinking it, I don’t regret six years ago, either. I’m just inept at knowing how to deal with it.”

My breath catches. After so long believing he saw that night as his greatest regret, his words shake loose something inside me.

"But maybe you're right." Max steps back, the warmth of his body fading. "Keeping your distance is smart. The situation hasn't changed.”

My chest tightens at his sudden shift. One moment, he's telling me the kiss wasn't a mistake, and the next, he's backing away. Again.

“What the fuck, Max?”

He flinches at my outburst.

“You’re doing it again, bringing me close and then shoving me away. Tell me what you want. First you can't stand to be around me, then you kiss me, then you act like nothing happened. Now you're telling me it meant something but in the same breath saying I should stay away?” I give an exasperated growl. “What do you want? Because I’m getting whiplash trying to figure it out.”

"It's complicated?—”

"No." I cut him off. "It's really not. Either you want this or you don't. Either you feel something real or you're just… what? Lonely? Confused? Missing your girlfriend?"

His jaw tightens. "Whitley's not my girlfriend."

"That's what you focus on?" I throw my hands up. "God, Max. I can't keep doing this dance with you. One step forward, three steps back. It's exhausting."

His shoulders sag. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him look defeated. "What I want doesn't matter."

"It matters to me." My voice cracks. "Unless you're just playing games?"

"You know I'm not."

"Do I? Because from where I'm standing, you're either afraid to admit what you want or you're enjoying keeping me off balance."

I watch Max's internal struggle play across his face. The usually controlled man before me looks torn, vulnerable in a way I've never seen.

"You think I don't want you?" His voice comes out rough. "That's the problem, Gia. I want you too much. I have since that night six years ago. But wanting you is wrong."

“Who says?”

He shrugs. “The world.”

“And the world’s opinion is more important than how you feel, how I feel?”

He leans against the wall. “I don’t know, Gia. I want to do right by you, and before you say it, I know I’m fucking up. But I can’t give you what you deserve. Whatever this is between us, it can’t go anywhere.”

“Okay. But right now, I’m stuck here with you. Instead of this back and forth tug of war, we could enjoy it.”

His eyes flash with heat. It gives me the courage to step closer to him. The air grows thick with tension. I feel the familiar pull between us, like gravity drawing two objects together.

"Gia." My name comes out like a warning, but he doesn't move away. "We can't?—”

"Can't? Or won't?" I'm close enough now to feel the heat radiating from his body. "Stop thinking about what we should or shouldn't do. For once, just feel."

His hands clench at his sides. I see the moment his control wavers, his gaze dropping to my lips. The electricity between us crackles, making my skin tingle.

"You have no idea what you're asking." His voice drops lower, sending shivers down my spine.

"I'm not asking anything. I did that last time. This time, you have to ask."