5. Max

5

MAX

I was ready to see Gia again. I was sure of it. That is until she appeared at the door of the plane.

The moment Gia stepped into view, her honey-blonde hair caught the light, creating a halo effect that made my breath catch. She’s so fucking beautiful. She has a quiet confidence, a grace that makes my chest ache.

She’d paused at the top of the stairs, one hand on the railing. The wind tugged at her cream silk blouse and navy slacks. My throat went dry. Those same green eyes that have haunted my dreams met mine, and for a moment I was transported back to New York, to stolen moments and forbidden desires.

Get it together, Giraldi , I chastised myself, forcing myself to view this as just another security detail. She's Nic's sister. My goddaughter. Nothing more.

I’d been so pleased I’d kept my voice and actions professional, even as it felt wrong, especially referring her to Mrs. Cantore. She hasn't been Mrs. Cantore for years, but it helps maintain that crucial distance.

Now we’re in the SUV, and I’m taking the woman I want but can’t have back to my home to stay for as long as needed for Nic to hunt down her stalker. I’m mad with the desire to have it over now while at the same time wanting her to stay indefinitely.

The twins' excited chatter fills the cabin.

"Is your pool really big?" Daniella bounces in her seat. "Mama says we can swim!"

"I can cannon bomb,” Dario chimes in.

Just like when I was with them last year, I wonder what it would have been like had I had the courage to whisk Gia away from having to marry Aldo six years ago. These kids could be mine. Well, not these kids, as they’re Aldo’s. As horrible as that marriage was, I can’t imagine Gia would change anything that would impact her kids.

“I’ll need to check for sharks first.” I wink at Daniella.

I steal a glance at Gia sitting next to me. She stares out the window, her hands folded tightly in her lap, shoulders tense.

My hand twitches, wanting to cover those clasped fingers with my own. To tell her it'll be okay, that I'll keep them safe. That I've missed?—

No. I can't go there.

“I have room with a big screen for TV and movies, and a game room.”

Twin squeals of delight echo through the car. Gia's lips quirk slightly, but she maintains her rigid posture. I should be glad she’s keeping her emotional distance. It will make it easier for me to keep mine. But I find myself missing the way she used to smile at me. All the times she tried to talk to me like we had done so easily before I fucked it up by crossing a line I shouldn’t have. It’s clear she got my message from our last visit, but instead of being glad, I’m bothered. But I have to let that go. It's better this way , I remind myself. Safer .

We pull into the gated driveway of my desert compound, the wheels crunching on gravel. The Mediterranean-style mansion sprawls across open desert, terracotta roof tiles gleaming in the afternoon sun.

"This is where you live?" Daniella presses her face against the window.

"All by yourself?" Dario adds.

My throat tightens at their innocent questions. "I like space and privacy.”

I lead them through the grand foyer and the open living area where they can see the pool out back.

“The pool is fenced,” I say to Gia in case she’s worried.

She gives me a nod.

“How about I show you to your rooms?” I feel like a doofus. I’m not one to host guests or entertain, but that’s not what’s making me uncomfortable. It’s having Gia in my home and from the first moment she stepped through the doors looking like she belongs here.

“Yay!” The kids jump up and down.

I lead them down a hallway and then left down a separate wing. It’s where Nic and other members of the family stay when they come west, which isn’t that often. It’s a testament to how well I run the business here that Nic mostly stays out of my way.

“I wasn’t sure if the kids wanted their own rooms or to share. Both options are available.”

Daniella and Dario race between the rooms, debating the merits of various views and bed sizes. I turn to Gia, who continues to be quiet.

"Your suite is down here." I open double doors to reveal a spacious bedroom with desert mountain views. "Private bath, sitting area, and a small outdoor space."

She steps inside, running her fingers along the cream-colored duvet. "It's beautiful, Max."

I clear my throat, fighting the urge to linger. "There's more."

Down the hall, I show them a bright room filled with desks, computers, and educational materials. “For homeschooling. I wasn’t sure about your work situation, but there’s an area there.”

She looks up at me, and for a moment I think I see gratitude. I want to stay there, savor it, but there’s more to see.

The next room gets the biggest reaction. The converted den now houses everything two five-year-olds could want—gaming systems, art supplies, books, and enough toys to stock a small store. It was a major feat to pull off in the span of twenty-four hours.

"A dollhouse!" Daniella squeals, running to the large wood structure fully stocked with furniture.

"Look at these racecars!" Dario drops to his knees by a massive track set.

Gia's eyes widen. "You didn't have to do all this."

"I wanted them to feel at home."

“But I’m sure we won’t be here long,” Gia says, and it grates on my nerves. “Nic will find out who’s behind the notes and we’ll be leaving.”

I stuff my hands in my pockets. "However long you need to stay." Feeling like an idiot, I show them out to the main area of the house. “I don’t keep a large house staff.”

“You always liked your privacy,” Gia says.

I know I just mentioned that in the car, but her comment sounds like she remembers me from before. I feel like it means something.

“Normally, I do my own cooking, but if you’d like me to hire?—”

“That’s not necessary.”

I roll my shoulders to relieve the tension her snappy comments build in me.

“The grounds, however, are fully manned. Security is everywhere. I have four teams rotating shifts and a state-of-the- art surveillance system covering every inch of the property." I step closer, lowering my voice. "No one gets within a mile of this place without us knowing."

She wraps her arms around herself, and I wonder if she’s protecting herself from the stalker or me. "The grounds seem extensive."

"Twenty acres, all fenced and monitored. But…” I catch her eye, making sure she understands the gravity of my next words. "I need you to stay close to the main house. The pool and immediate gardens are fine, but don't wander the perimeter. Not until we know who's behind these threats."

"You sound just like Nic."

"Because we both want you safe." Again, I’m fighting the urge to touch her, to offer comfort. "The staff knows to report anything unusual. They're loyal, vetted, and well-paid for their discretion."

Daniella and Dario run around the open area, their laughter filling the space between us. The sound both warms and wounds me.

“Anything you need, let me or Maria—she’s the house manager—know,” I continue, desperate to maintain professional distance. "She’s here during the day but available all hours. She lives on the property out back.”

"Once Nic finds who's behind this, we'll be out of your hair."

My jaw clenches. "This isn't about being 'in my hair’." The words come out sharper than intended. "Your safety isn't some temporary inconvenience."

She turns those green eyes on me, the same ones that have haunted my dreams for years. "I know how busy you are, Max. Your work here, your… social obligations."

My eyes narrow. “Social obligations?” She remembered I liked my privacy. Surely, she remembers I’m not a social man. Oh, sure, I attend social events when needed, but I’d rather be home than schmoozing with society.

She shrugs and turns her attention to the kids. “I’m sure you have friends… girlfriends.”

For a moment, I wonder if she’s fishing, and the thought that she might feels better than it should.

"None of that matters." I step closer, close enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume. "You and the kids come first. Always."

She looks up at me, studying me as if she wonders whether I’m speaking the truth. The air between us crackles with memories of that night when everything changed. When I crossed a line I can never uncross. A line that I can’t cross again, even as in this moment, I’d give everything I have to cross it.

She clears her throat and looks away. “It’s important to me that you don’t feel put out. I don’t want to be an imposition.”

Fuck. She’s back to being an ice queen. “It’s no imposition.”

“I know you like your privacy, your alone time. I’ll do my best to stay out of your way.”

“It’s not a problem?—”

“You don’t have to worry about me… well… I understand the situation, and I appreciate all you’re doing for us.”

“What situation?” What is she trying to say? And why do I feel like I don’t want to hear it?

She lets out a sigh. “Last year, I think you worried I might… proposition you again.” Her cheeks flush red with embarrassment, and I hate that anything about me would make her feel like that. This is my fault. I was an asshole to her, and it made her feel silly and foolish. “I can assure you that wasn’t the case, so you don’t need to worry.”

“Mama, can we go to the playroom again?” Dario asks.

“First, thank Mr. Giraldi for all he’s doing for us.”

Mr. Giraldi. The formality stings, even though I know it's safer this way. After all, hadn’t I referred to her as Mrs. Cantore?

“You mean Uncle Max?” Daniella asks, her sweet little face pinched into confusion.

“Yes.”

“Thank you for the playroom, Uncle Max,” the kids chime, their arms wrapping around my legs.

“Anything for you little munchkins.” They run off, and I’m left alone with Gia. A million things run through my mind but none of them come out.

“I should go unpack,” she says.

I swallow the disappointment. “Of course. I have a few things to do. My office is over there.” I point toward another wing. “If you need anything, let me know.”

She nods and leaves me standing in the living room alone.

I want them to stay. The realization hits me with startling clarity. Not just until the threat is neutralized, but longer. Maybe forever.

It's a dangerous thought. One I have no right to entertain.

Fuck.

I bury myself in work, only coming up for air when I hear the old grandfather clock in the hall chime six.

I venture to the other side of the house, finding Gia and the kids in the playroom.

“I was thinking of pizza for dinner.”

"Can we make it?" Daniella's eyes light up. "Mama makes the best pizza!"

“I thought I’d order?—”

"Please?" Dario adds, already bouncing on his toes. "We help roll the dough!"

I lean against the doorframe, watching Gia's expression soften. She's always had trouble saying no to their enthusiasm.

"If it's okay with Max," she says, glancing my way. "We'd need to raid your kitchen."

" Mi casa es su casa . Maria keeps everything stocked."

The twins race to the kitchen. I give Gia a quick tour of where everything is from flour and other ingredients, to bowls and spoons, to pans and even a pizza cutter. I must have been good at it as Gia moves through my kitchen with surprising familiarity, gathering flour and olive oil. The sight of her there, so domestic, so natural, only adds to the yearning for something more in my life. Something more with her and the kids.

I sink onto a barstool at the kitchen island, content to observe. Gia measures ingredients while explaining each step to the kids. Flour dusts their clothes, their faces, even the counter, but their joy is infectious. I can’t remember a time when my home was filled with such laughter and light.

Gia divides the dough into four balls, handing one to each of the kids.

"Can I twirl it, Mama?" Dario's small hands press into his dough.

She glances at me, although I’m not sure why. Does she feel she needs my permission?

“You can try. Just don’t drop it.”

“Me too,” Daniella chimes in. I watch with fascination as they try to toss their pizza dough.

“You can do it too,” Dario says to me.

Gia has a smirk as she passes me a ball of dough.

“I don’t know how,” I say, beginning to knead the dough.

“Like this,” Daniella says, proceeding to give me a lesson.

Gia focusses on cutting onions and peppers for the pizza and then shredding cheese.

“I don’t suppose you have pepperoni?”

Do I? I go to the meat bin in my fridge and send a silent thank you to Maria when I find a package of already cut pepperoni. “Maria must have known you’d make pizza?”

With the dough now in a round shape, or oblong for the kids, the kids begin to load up on toppings. Daniella creates elaborate patterns with her toppings while Dario piles his high with extra cheese.

I should feel like an outsider watching this family moment. Instead, I focus on memorizing every detail—the flour smudge on Gia's cheek, the way Daniella's tongue pokes out in concentration, Dario's proud grin as he makes stacks of pepperoni.

For the first time ever, my house feels like a home.

Dinner is a delicious delight, but as soon as it’s over, Gia is doing dishes and whisking the kids off their wing of the house, leaving me feeling cold and alone.

For the best , I remind myself.

I work a few more hours and then make my rounds of the house, doing final security checks before calling it night. A flash of movement catches my eye through the back windows. Gia stands alone on the patio, bathed in moonlight. Her silk robe ripples in the desert breeze as she gazes up at the stars.

Everything inside me stops. My heart. My breath. She looks ethereal the way the moonlight catches her honey-blonde hair. The memory of her looking like that the night she came to my room offering me her virginity, wanting to know the pleasures between a man and woman before being married off into a loveless, abusive marriage, hits me.

Three steps would take me through those doors. I could stand beside her, ask what's on her mind. Offer comfort. Let her know she's not alone.

But I can’t trust myself that close to her. And it’s clear she doesn’t want it either. I move into the shadows and watch until she returns to the house and to her room.

I make my way to my own bedroom, stripping down to boxer briefs and sliding between cool sheets. Sleep comes quickly but brings no peace.

In my dreams, she's in my arms again. Soft skin under my palms, her breathless sighs in my ear. The sweet taste of her lips, the way she whispered my name. Her body arching beneath mine, those green eyes dark with desire.

“I’m sorry,” I say to her in my dreams. “We could have had this, but I was a coward.”

She doesn’t say anything, which only heightens my guilt. My body doesn’t heed it. It drowns itself in her. Her scent, her touch, it consumes me. My body rocks with hers, her hot, wet pussy pulsing around my cock until the pleasure is almost more than I can bear.

I jolt awake, sheets twisted around my legs, heart hammering. Sweat beads on my chest. I glance down wondering if I’ve come on my sheets. No. My dick is still hard as rock, tenting the blankets.

"Fuck," I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my face. Having her here, under my roof, it's torture.

I roll over, punching my pillow, ordering my dick to stand down. But the dream shimmers at the edge of my mind. Dammit. I consider a cold shower, but… oh, fuck it.

I push the sheet back and conjure up Gia again. It’s not the first time I’ve stroked my dick to thoughts of her. Sometimes, I replay that one perfect night with her. Other times, I imagine what it would have been like to teach her more ways to give and get pleasure. Showing her how to take control and ride me. Letting her explore my dick with her mouth. I’ve had so many fantasies about her. I’ve just never masturbated with her in such close proximity. I wonder what she’d think if she knew my brusque manner toward her is all a cover to hide how much I want her.

Tonight, I go back to the beginning. Her wide-eyed innocence as I touched her. Her eager hands exploring my body. The feel of her pussy as I broke through her barrier. The sound of her voice as she called my name when she came.

My orgasm comes, a mix of pain and pleasure as my cum shoots across my stomach and chest. As usual, guilt and more pain follow. I’m such a fucking mess.

I have to find a way through this. I need to keep my distance while keeping them close, have to remember why I left New York in the first place, to hide our past from Nic, to hide my continued feelings for her.

I need to be strong, stronger than I’ve ever been in my life. I can’t give in to this soul-deep yearning for my best friend’s sister. For my goddaughter.