Chapter 5

THE FUNERAL

~GISELLE POV~

Alessandro finally unlocked the door three days later.

Three days. Seventy-two hours. Four thousand three hundred and twenty minutes. Not that I was counting.

(Yeah, I was definitely counting.)

Three straight days, locked in that room. Martha dropped off food like it was her job - knock, tray down, not a single word. I'd say come in, she'd do her thing, and vanish.

I tore through every book on the shelf, worked out until my body could barely handle it, paced so much I swear the carpet's thinner for it.

I was losing my mind.

So when the lock finally clicked and the door swung open, I actually jumped off the bed.

Alessandro stood there looking like he'd just stepped out of a magazine - black suit, everything tailored, hair immaculate. Like he had a board meeting to run or something.

"Get dressed," he said. "We're leaving."

I stared. "What?"

"Your parents' funeral is this afternoon. You have an hour."

Oh.

Right. Shit.

It had almost slipped my mind. Not really gone, just kind of shoved somewhere in the back. Like if I ignored it, it wouldn't hurt.

But it was real. They were gone. And today, I had to bury them.

"I don't have anything to wear," I said, and my voice came out flat. Weirdly hollow.

He nodded at the closet. "Black dress. Second from the left. Heels are on the bottom shelf."

Of course he'd already chosen something.

I walked over, pulled out the dress. Black. Simple. Long sleeves. High neck. Just right for a funeral.

I hated that he actually had good taste.

I started to shut the closet door to change.

"Leave it open," he said.

I spun around. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not leaving. And you're not getting privacy. Get dressed."

"You're actually just going to sit there and watch me change?"

"Yes."

"That's pretty creepy."

"That's marriage." He sat himself down in the chair by the window, crossed his legs, and waited.

I wanted to tell him off, storm out, something. But honestly, I just wanted out of that room, even if it was just for a little while.

So I turned around and got dressed, pretending he wasn't there.

I could feel him watching me the whole time. Not in a gross way - more like he was taking inventory.

The dress fit perfectly - naturally.

But I couldn't reach the zipper.

I hesitated, trying to decide if it was worth asking.

"Need help?" His voice was suddenly right behind me.

I jumped. Didn't even hear him move.

"I got it," I muttered.

"No, you don't."

His hands brushed my back and pulled the zipper up, slow as anything. I could feel each finger along my spine. I held my breath.

"There." He stepped away.

I turned to face him. Way too close.

"You're going to behave today," he said.

"Or what?"

"Or I will make you regret it."

I looked up at him. "I already regret everything."

For a second, something flashed in his eyes - could've been guilt. Or nothing at all.

"Let's go," he said.

The car was dead quiet.

Rocco drove. Alessandro sat next to me in the back. I just stared out the window, watching the estate get smaller and smaller until it was gone.

We were heading back to the city. Back to the Castellano cemetery, where my family's been getting buried for, I don't know, a hundred years?

I guess I was supposed to cry. To fall apart. Feel something, at least.

But I just felt... nothing. Hollow, really.

"Are there bodies?" My own voice surprised me. I hadn't even realized I was going to speak.

Alessandro turned. "No. Closed casket. There wasn't enough left." My stomach flipped.

"Oh."

"You don't have to look," he said.

"I want to."

"No, you don't."

He was probably right. Silence again, just the road noise. After a few minutes, Alessandro spoke up.

"When we get there, stick with me. Don't wander off. Don't talk to anyone unless I'm there."

I shot him a look. "Even Marcus?"

"Especially Marcus."

"He's my brother."

"He's dangerous."

I actually laughed. "And you're not?"

"I'm dangerous and I'm on your side. He's dangerous and he's not."

"How do you know?"

"I've been watching him watch you for three years."

That shut me up.

I stared out the window again.

What was that supposed to mean?

It was raining when we got to the cemetery.

Of course it was. Like my life wasn't already melodramatic enough. Maybe God thought this was funny.

Alessandro got out first, opened an umbrella, and held it over us while I climbed out.

His hand immediately landed on my lower back - firm, like he owned the place.

There was already a crowd - so many people, huddled under black umbrellas. Looked like a forest of mourning.

Everyone turned as we approached.

I heard them whispering:

"That's her."

"She married him three days before they died."

"I heard he did it."

"Poor girl."

"She doesn't look that upset."

I wanted to yell at them. To say I was upset, even if I wasn't falling apart right there. I just couldn't let them see me crack. Not here. Not with all these vultures.

There were two caskets by the open graves. Black, shiny, sealed shut. My parents - well, whatever was left.

I stared and tried to feel anything. Still nothing. Just cold rain, Alessandro's hand digging into my back, and the smell of wet earth.

The priest started talking - dust, ashes, God's plan or whatever.

I tuned it out. Glanced around instead. All those mafia families gathered. Julio's old crew, looking like they'd rather be anywhere else. Isabella's people, probably furious they weren't getting a cut.

That's when I spotted Marcus.

He was standing apart from everyone, letting the rain pour down on him. No umbrella. Just getting drenched.

He couldn't take his eyes off the caskets. His face was raw, eyes puffy and red.

He looked wrecked.

And - yeah, guilt hit me. He lost them too, but I'd been so wrapped up in my own mess I hadn't even thought about him.

The service was over. People filtered out. No one tried to talk to me - Alessandro made sure of that just by standing there.

His phone buzzed. He answered with a sharp, "Yes... Where?... I'll be there in ten." Then he gave me this look. "I need to take this. Work. Stay here. Don't move."

"I'm not a kid."

"Stay. Here."

He stepped a few yards away, still where I could see him but too far to hear. He started talking in Italian, voice low.

I just stood. Alone. Staring at the caskets.

"Giselle."

I spun around. Marcus was standing there - soaked, hair stuck to his forehead. He honestly looked like a half-drowned dog.

"Marcus." My voice barely worked. "I'm so sorry - I should have called, I should have - " But he just wrapped me in a hug.

I hugged him back. He's my brother. Grieving. This should be normal.

It wasn't.

He didn't let go. His arms squeezed too tight. His face pressed into my neck. I could feel his breath, almost like he was smelling me, deep and shaky.

"I thought I lost you too," he whispered, lips brushing my skin.

"I'm fine," I said, trying to pull away.

He wouldn't let go. His hand slid lower on my back, way past where it should have stopped.

"Marcus." I shoved at his chest.

He just held on harder.

Then suddenly Alessandro was there, yanking Marcus off me. He shoved him so hard Marcus almost went down in the mud.

"Enough," Alessandro said, voice like ice.

Marcus steadied himself. "I was comforting my SISTER."

"You were groping my WIFE."

"I wasn't - "

Alessandro stepped right up in his face. "Touch her again and I'll break your hands. Every finger. One by one. Starting with your thumb."

I froze.

Marcus looked over Alessandro's shoulder at me. "You're just going to stand there and let him?"

I started to say something.

"She doesn't get a say," Alessandro cut in. "This is between you and me. I'm telling you what happens if you touch her again."

Marcus's face twisted up. Then he spat, "You killed our parents."

The whole place seemed to freeze. The few people still nearby turned to stare.

Alessandro didn't move. "Prove it."

"Everyone knows it was you. The car, the bomb. Your name's all over it."

"If I wanted them dead, I'd have put a bullet in their heads. Car bombs are for cowards."

"You're a monster."

"Yeah," Alessandro said. "But now I'm her monster. So back off." He took my hand and started pulling me toward the car.

I glanced back. Marcus wasn't looking at Alessandro anymore. He was staring right at me. His eyes were dark, hungry. Not the way a brother looks at his sister - not even close.

My skin crawled.

We got in the car. Rocco pulled away from the cemetery.

Silence.

I stared down at my hands, at the wedding ring I still couldn't make myself take off.

"He's my brother," I said at last.

"He's obsessed with you."

I shook my head. "That's insane. We grew up together. He's my stepbrother."

"Doesn't change a thing. I saw the way he looks at you. The way he touches you. That's not how brothers act."

"You're just being paranoid."

"I'm paying attention." He turned to face me. "And listen to me, Giselle. Marcus is dangerous. Way more than you realize."

"More dangerous than you?"

"It's not the same. I want to have you. He wants to swallow you whole."

I went quiet.

Thought about the way Marcus hugged me... how his hand kept sliding down my back, the way he pressed in, breathing against my neck, refusing to let go.

And how, even when we were kids, Marcus would always be watching. Always making up reasons to be near me. Or just popping into my room when I was changing, like it was nothing.

I'd always told myself it was just awkward stepbrother stuff. Teenage boy being clueless.

Now, though..."Oh my god," I said under my breath.

Alessandro was watching. "Now you see it."

"He wouldn't - I mean, he's my brother. He wouldn't - "

"He would. He's going to try. That's why you need to stay away from him. No exceptions. Are we clear?"

I turned to the window, watching the cemetery fade into the background. I'd been so sure Alessandro was the monster I needed to escape.

Now I wasn't so sure.

Maybe I wasn't the one stuck with Alessandro.

Maybe Alessandro was the one keeping me from something a lot worse.

That terrified me even more.