Chapter 4: The wrong bedroom

Gianna’s POV

I backed up in shock, my mind racing in circles. He could be a stranger, an intruder, or worse. I had never seen this man before in my life, but the physical resemblance was undeniable.

Why did he look so much like Dario?

I kept moving backward, oblivious to my surroundings, until the back of my head hit hard against the bedroom door.

"Ouch!" I gasped, wincing from the pain. 

I quickly reached behind my back, my fingers clawing at the handle and twisting it with strength, desperate to escape this room.

But the handle just turned loosely in my grip, spinning without catching the latch. It wouldn't open. 

Panic flared hot in my throat. How could the door fail to open right now?

"That lock is bad," he said, his deep voice slicing cleanly through the quiet room. "I’ve been meaning to change it. Don’t strain yourself, it won’t open from the inside."

"What?!" My voice cracked, heat rushing to my face as embarrassment burned through me. I desperately crossed my arms over my bare chest, trying to shield myself from his line of sight.

"Who are you? And how did I not even hear you in the shower?"

"Because I was taking a silent bath," he said, his expression perfectly serious.

"What does that even mean?" I demanded.

A tiny, amused smile touched the corner of his lips, breaking his stern mask. "I’m teasing you. There’s no such thing as a silent bath."

"So?!" I yelled, the terror quickly morphing into raw frustration.

"So nothing," he replied carelessly.

"Can you at least say something that makes sense? You are seriously scaring me!"

He took a slow, grounding breath, his intense gaze locking me in place. "I’m Dario’s older brother, Roman."

My jaw dropped, my arms loosening slightly before I caught myself. "The priest?!"

I knew Dario had an older brother, but according to the sparse stories he shared, the man was a ghost to the family.

The rumors among our circle whispered that he had walked away from the family business to take holy vows. 

I always thought that was a crazy combo, how could a mafia don's son be a priest? It made no sense.

"Can you stop shaking now?" Roman asked, his tone softening just a little.

He took a step out of the bathroom, moving closer into the bedroom space. I immediately gasped and averted my eyes, refusing to look at his naked body. 

Sensing my panic, he paused and retreated a few paces. The soft rustle of fabric echoed through the silence as he finally wrapped his white towel securely around his waist.

I slowly risked a glance back. The towel hung low on his sharp hip bones, but it was a relief compared to before.

Yet, as my eyes tracked the contours of his body, an unbidden thought crossed my mind, comparing his…

No, no, no! I mentally slapped myself, forcing the sinful comparison out of my head. What was wrong with me? Was I losing my mind?

"So, what are you doing here?" I asked, forcing my voice into a steady, defensive line.

Roman tilted his head, looking at me as if I had completely lost my senses. "What am I doing in my own house?"

"This is your house?!" Oh, God. The pieces fell together, the different scent, the cold architecture.

"Look, I’m so sorry. Dario didn’t say a word to me, and I had no idea this was your private bedroom. I’ll just leave," I said, turning back around to twist the broken handle again.

But his deep voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Remember, the lock is bad," Roman said smoothly. He walked over to the bedside table and reached for his phone.

"We’re stuck here for the time being, until I can get a maintenance worker up here to fix this."

A heavy dread settled in my stomach. I couldn't remain trapped in this room with him. I was half naked, he was just in a towel, and the boundaries were completely blurred.

If Dario returned right now and found us locked in his brother's room together. He would lose his mind, and any progress I had made to save our arrangement would turn to ash.

"Can’t you just do something about it?" I pleaded, turning back to face him.

I looked at his muscular body, my eyes wide. He was huge. Surely, he could just slam his shoulder against the wood and break the door open.

I needed him to do exactly that, because being trapped in this space with him made it feel like I couldn't breathe.

I think he noticed exactly how I was staring at his body, because a small smirk touched his lips.

"My body against that door? No," he said, brushing my thought off completely.

He walked even closer to me. I was still stuck flat against the door, completely unable to move.

Suddenly, his  arm shot out right past my waist. My breath hitched, but his hand just landed firmly on the door knob.

Why wasn't I moving? What was wrong with me? Roman didn't seem to care at all that I was standing right in front of him completely naked from the waist up.

He just focused on the door, trying to twist the stubborn knob himself.

I couldn't help it. My eyes traced down his hard, muscular chest, down to the towel around his waist, and then…oh God. My breath caught in my throat.

I suddenly noticed that my breast was still bare. 

I scrambled past him as fast as I could, rushing over to where my dress lay on the floor. I scooped it up and pulled it over my head in a panic. How on earth did I forget that I was naked?

Roman turned around to look at me, his face completely calm. "It’s not working. I’ll call someone."

He made a quick call and after a few seconds, he hung up. "The repair guy said he is on his way."

"Just sit down for a few minutes. He will be here soon," Roman said.

He walked over to this large built-in wardrobe and pulled out a pair of thick gray sweatpants.

Perhaps reading the discomfort rolling off my posture, he took the clothing, stepped back inside the bathroom, and clicked the door shut. 

When he came out a minute later, he was fully dressed. I tried my best to inspect the patterns on the rug rather than look at the way the fabric hung off his frame.

"So, how are the wedding plans going?" Roman asked, breaking the silence.

"Fine," I replied, my voice sounding small.

"Just fine?" he pushed, tilting his head.

"Yes, just fine," I said, keeping my eyes locked onto the floor, trying my best to avoid eye contact with him.

"So, I suppose then that you’re here for Franca’s engagement party?"

My head snapped up. "How do you know about that?" I asked.

"Well, why else would both of you fly out to Las Vegas when your own wedding is just in a few days?"

I couldn't even bring myself to look him in the eye after that. Deep down, I felt like one of those wicked, evil friends you read about in storybooks. The guilt was suffocating me.

"Yes, I am," I muttered. Then, trying to clear the heavy tension, I asked, "And you?"

"Oh, I’m attending too," he replied smoothly.

"Really? You know Franca?"

"No," Roman replied. "Lanci. Her fiancé."

"You guys are friends?"

"No... business associates," he said, his eyes turning cold. "My father requested my presence to oversee that everything goes right... and not left."

As far as I can remember, priests were men of peace and sanctuary. "You’re not a priest anymore?"

"Sadly, no.”

I wanted to ask him why. I wanted to know what kind of sin could pull a man from an altar back into the blood-soaked world of the mafia, but I knew it was outside my bounds to ask.

"Why do you think something would go wrong?" I asked instead.

Curiosity got the better of my fear, and my palms began to sweat. A quiet panic started to set in.

Dario was planning to crash the event to enact a petty, cruel revenge for his college humiliation, but Roman was here under their father's orders to ensure the night went flawlessly. 

What the hell had I gotten myself into? 

Did Roman already know about Dario’s plan? Was that the real reason he was here? To stop his brother?

"I didn’t say something would go wrong," Roman replied calmly, his eyes fixed on me. "Just that the engagement needs to hold."

"Why?"

"Because Lanci is merely marrying her because of her parents' money."

"And what does that have to do with you and your father?" I asked, my voice rising a little.

"Because his father owes my dad a lot of money," Roman explained. “The alliance must go through so he can extract what he needs from her family's shares to pay our debt."

Oh, my god. My best friend, Franca. What on earth was she getting herself into? She was walking right into a trap, and her fiancé was just using her.

Roman must have read the horror taking over my expression. "Calm down," he said softly, though there was no real warmth in it.

"They both have something to gain from each other. It’s business."

"And why would you tell me all of this so casually?" I asked, looking at him like he was crazy.

"Because I think it’s very obvious to anyone who is observant."

"And I guess you aren't just being observant," I challenged, trying to hide how scared I was. "You just know the truth because your father asked you to handle it?"

"Right," he said simply.

Just then, a loud knock echoed through the bedroom door.

"It must be the repairman," Roman said.

He walked over to the door. The man on the other side mumbled a few words, and within no time, the lock clicked. The door swung open.

Relief washed over me. I quickly grabbed my suitcase and my bag, desperate to escape this suffocating room. I tried to rush past him, but his voice stopped me right in my tracks.

"Let me help you," he said, reaching for my bag.

"No, no, it’s fine!" I said quickly, pulling the bag back closer to my side. "I can manage it on my own."

Roman stopped, straightening up to his full height as he looked down at me. "Well, your stomach has been rumbling ever since you got here. Do you want to grab lunch?"

I froze, a sudden flush climbing my neck.

"And just so you know, before you refuse," Roman added, leaning in just a little bit closer, "Dario won’t be anytime soon. I know how my brother operates."

He stared into my eyes, holding my gaze captive. "So, do you want to grab something to eat?"

"Yes," I said.

I didn’t even know when the word slipped out of my mouth. I was terrified of him, but looking into his intense eyes, I couldn't say no.