Chapter-15 Dinner (Part 2)

Gianna

The entire dining room was bedecked in candles and red roses. Beyond the table in the center that was set with immaculate cutlery, a bottle of champagne resting in an ice bucket and god knows what else was the glass wall that looked out at the Mediterranean, the serene water splashing with waves now and then. It was peaceful and oh-so-romantic. Nico stepped in beside me, and his eyes widened, a blank look falling on his face. I don’t think he was expecting this.

“This is beautiful,” I murmured in appreciation.

“Caelian must have done this,” he grimaced.

“Yeah, this doesn’t seem like it would be your thing. Especially not red roses and candles.” I made a face, unable to hide my sarcasm as I walked over to the glass wall. It was beautiful outside.

“I don’t do romance.” Nico’s voice was hard, laced with a warning that made me press my legs together. I inhaled deeply and then turned to face him.

“What do you do then?” I asked, challenging him. His dark eyes met mine, and I almost felt starved for some reason as we gazed back at each other.

“I take. I ruin. I devour.” His voice was low, a quiet promise laced with danger. “I make sure you forget every foolish fantasy about love.” Yeah okay. My appetite was gone—for food, at least.

The hunger between my legs, though…that was a different story.

“Sit,” Nico commanded, pulling out a chair for me. And there was enough authority in his voice to get my legs moving. His thumb brushed slightly against my back as I sat down, and I had to clench my jaw to stop myself from gasping as electricity zapped through me.

There was a knock at the door before it opened as the black-suited man appeared again with the two women trailing behind him. It broke the intensity that had my heart racing faster than a Ferrari. And I was so grateful to have access to fresh air in my lungs again.

“I hope you are ready to eat,” he smiled amicably, his eyes fleeting to me. The women couldn’t stop gawking at my husband. He couldn’t care any less, though.

Maybe Nico was gay? A giggle escaped me at how ridiculous the idea was

“What’s so funny?” Nico raised a brow as the suited guy poured us champagne.

“Nothing,” I bit my lip to fight another giggle that threatened.

“Celia and Margaret here will be your servers tonight. Please let us know of anything you need,” the suited guy murmured, avoiding eye contact with Nico. Probably because he was busy side-eyeing me. The ladies served us the entrées and finally left us alone.

“I hope you like the food. I didn’t know what you would prefer so I asked the chef to curate something,” Nico murmured.

“I did tell you on our second date in London,” I muttered, taking a bite of my Carpaccio. It was absolutely delicious, so delicious that I had to stop myself from moaning.

“I……my memory isn’t the sharpest,” Nico mumbled, not meeting my gaze.

At least he looked embarrassed. And I know it wasn’t about memory. He didn’t listen to me back then. After we were engaged, I moved to London to study fashion for two years before the date for our wedding was set. During that time, Nico visited me once and only because he was there for business.

He took me out to dinner but it wasn’t rocket science to figure out that it was just out of obligation. His mind was completely elsewhere. He had sent me flowers and gifts now and then while I was in London but I knew none of them were specifically sent by him but rather by his secretary.

“It’s okay,” I said quietly.

“You should stop being okay with everything, Gianna,” Nico’s voice was hard, but I knew his anger wasn’t directed at me. “If you’re angry or hurt—do something about it. Yell, scream, cry… I don’t know.”

“And will that change anything?” I asked, looking up at him. He opened his mouth as if to answer but shut it again, frustration flickering across his face.

“My intention is never to hurt you, Gianna,” he said, exhaling sharply. “I just… I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to have someone in my life, to share my space, my world. It’s foreign to me. I don’t do romance, and I sure as hell don’t do love. I keep to myself. I always have. And now…” He hesitated. “Now, it’s hard.”

“You loved someone once,” I reminded him softly.

His expression hardened instantly. “And that’s a mistake I’ll never make again.” His voice was sharp, final. “I won’t give you false hope, Gianna. I am not the man for you. I thought you would’ve realized that in the last two years and chosen better.”

His words sliced through me like a blade, but I forced myself to hold his gaze. If he thought he could push me away so easily, he was wrong.

“I did choose,” I said firmly. “I chose the man I wanted. And I trust him. Maybe he isn’t perfect, but I know he’s a good person. Even if he doesn’t love me, I know he’d do anything to keep me safe. And if he just let himself believe it—he’d see he isn’t as lost as he thinks.”

Nico’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. A storm brewed behind them, raw and unreadable, making me want to reach out, to tell him it was okay to let go.

“You’re wrong,” he bit out. His voice was lower now, edged with something dangerously close to anger. “If you think you can save me… you can’t, Gianna. You’ll only destroy yourself trying.”

“You don’t need saving, Nico,” I whispered. “You’re not damaged.”

His entire body tensed.

“I am.” His voice was raw, bitter. “And you need to stop making me part of whatever mission you’ve created in your head. Save yourself, Gianna. Take off the damn rose-colored glasses and see things for what they are. I have nothing to give you in return for love. So stop loving me. Stop caring. Just… stop.”

A lump rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down. I wasn’t naïve enough to think this would be easy, but I hadn’t expected him to unravel so quickly.

“It’s my heart,” I whispered, letting a single tear slip free. “And I get to decide what I do with it. If I want to love you… I will.”

I stood before he could respond, my pulse hammering.

“Thank you for dinner,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. Then, before I could stop myself, I turned and walked away, nearly colliding with the suited guy.

“Signora?” He straightened, concern flashing in his eyes. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “The food was excellent.”

“But you’ve only had the first course—”

“I’m done. Thank you.”

Without waiting for a reply, I strode toward the elevator leading to the parking garage. I didn’t want to ride with Nico. Maybe I could fit in the other SUV with the guards.

I stormed toward the elevator, my heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. My pulse was still racing, my mind stuck on every word Nico had thrown at me. Stop loving me. Stop caring. Just… stop.

As if it were that simple.

The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped inside, pressing the button for the parking. My hands were shaking, though I wasn’t sure if it was from anger or something else entirely. I just needed to get out of here, to breathe. Just as the doors started to close, a hand shot between them.

Nico.

I exhaled sharply as he stepped inside, his face impassive. His presence filled the small space, thick with everything left unsaid. Neither of us spoke. The tension crackled between us, heavy and suffocating. I crossed my arms and focused on the elevator panel, willing the doors to hurry the hell up.

“I’ll take you home,” he said after a long beat.

“I can manage.” His jaw clenched and I could feel the tension radiating off him in waves. Or was it me?

“Gianna.” He almost sounded like scolding a small kid.

“Nico,” I mimicked his tone.

His nostrils flared, but he didn’t argue. The elevator dinged, and I stepped out first, walking briskly toward where our cars were parked. The cool night air hit my skin, grounding me for a moment—until I heard his footsteps behind me.

“Gianna,” he called, softer this time. I should have kept walking. But something in his voice made me hesitate. I turned to face him, arms still crossed and raised a brow. He looked at me for a moment, his eyes searching mine.

“I was out of line,” he said finally. His tone wasn’t apologetic, but it wasn’t hard either. Just… matter-of-fact.

“You were just being honest,” I whispered, biting the inside of my cheek.

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he dragged a hand down his face, looking like he wanted to say something else but couldn’t bring himself to.

“Let me drive you home…please,” he said, his tone softening a bit. I hesitated, torn between my pride and my exhaustion. And maybe… maybe the silly, shameless part of me that just wanted to sit next to him a little longer. Plus, sitting amidst a bunch of bodyguards in that comparatively tiny SUV didn’t seem appealing.

“Fine,” I muttered, turning toward his car. And at least he has the courtesy to walk over and open the door for me.

The drive was quiet. Not the comfortable kind, but the heavy kind—thick with words neither of us knew how to say. I stared out the window, arms folded, trying not to let my mind wander back to the restaurant. To his words. To the way they had cut me open and left me bleeding.

The only sound was the soft hum of the engine and the distant murmur of the city outside.

Until I felt it.

Nico’s body tensed beside me. His grip on the wheel tightened, his jaw hardening. I frowned, glancing at him.

“What?” I demanded. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. Once. Twice.

“Nico,” I pressed, my stomach twisting. “What is it?” His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it.

“The black SUV behind us.” I frowned, confused.

“What about it?” His fingers flexed against the leather steering wheel.

“That’s not ours.” I blinked at him, a cold shiver ran down my spine. What was he saying? That was the SUV with the guards.

“Are you sure?” I mumbled. He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for the car’s built-in dial pad and pressed a number. The call rang twice before a deep voice answered.

“Sì, capo?”

“Are you behind us, Marcus?” Nico’s voice was clipped, all business now.

“No, capo,” the Marcus guy replied. “Our tire blew out halfway. We’re replacing it now. Should be back on track soon.” I watched as Nico’s entire stance changed. His fingers curled around the wheel, knuckles turning white. His expression darkened, something lethal settling in his eyes. If that SUV wasn’t ours then—whose was it?

A sick feeling settled in my stomach as I turned to Nico. “Wh…what happened?”

He inhaled sharply through his nose. “Make sure your seatbelt is tight.”

And then—

BANG!

A sharp crack splintered through the air, followed by a violent impact. The windshield jolted, a deep dent marring the glass where the bullet had struck. My breath caught in my throat, the scream refusing to escape. Before I could even react or say something, Nico spoke, his voice hard and simmering with rage-

“We’re under attack.”