Chapter 5: Caught in the Act

Gianna’s POV

I came out from the shower, steam clinging to my skin as I pulled on a simple, sleeveless cream dress with a high turtleneck.

After twisting my hair up into a neat, secure bun and checking my reflection, I stepped out of the room.

Roman was waiting in the living room and the moment my heels clicked against the floorboards, he stood up.

"Ready?"

"Sure," I answered, though a nervous flare vibrated in my chest.

His eyes traveled an intentional path from the top of my head down to my shoes, the intensity of his gaze making my skin tingle.

"You look stunning, Gianna," he said smoothly then turned and strode out the front door without waiting for a reply.

I stood there completely stunned. A bitter memory resurfaced, Dario had never offered me a compliment.

Not once in all the years I had spent trailing behind him. Yet his brother could make my cheeks burn with a single look

When I stepped outside, the sight in the driveway took my breath away, a blood-red sports car, sleek and impossibly expensive, glowing under the sun like a resting beast.

We got in, and Roman drove us to a highly luxurious restaurant in the heart of the city and walking inside the grand, elegant room brought back a wave of sadness. 

It reminded me of the good old days when my father used to take me to new, fancy restaurants just to try out their food. Back when our family wasn't going bankrupt.

We settled down at a private table, both took the menus and ordered our food.

The moment the plates arrived, I didn't even waste any time. I started eating immediately. Truly, I was famished. 

My plate was already empty while Roman was still navigating his meal with calm, measured precision.

To mask my self-consciousness, I lifted my glass and took a slow sip of wine. When he finally finished, I set the glass down, curiosity burning too hot to contain

"So, were you really, really a priest?" I asked.

Roman leaned back in his chair, locking his piercing eyes onto mine. "So, you’re running around now with your fiancé a few days before your wedding, attending his lover’s engagement party."

"Not a typical start for a happy life."

My jaw clenched. "That was not the answer to my question."

"What else is there to tell?" Roman asked, his voice dripping with cool arrogance. "Do you need evidence?"

No, I do not," I snapped, taking another sip to settle my nerves. This man was clearly trying to get on my last nerve, but I forced my posture to remain rigid.

I refused to let him see how deeply he was rattling me. 

“Who says he is still in love with her?"

Roman raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so he isn’t?"

"No, he’s not," I said defensively.

"And how do you know that?"

"Because I know Dario."

I know every single thing about him, I added silently in my mind. There was no way on earth Dario was still in love with Franca after what she did to him.

I refused to believe it.

Roman let out a soft mocking laugh. "Why? Because you’re the lover who has been chasing him all your life?"

The words sliced straight through my defenses. "You don’t have to say it like that!" I gasped, the humiliation turning into white-hot anger.

"What is wrong with you? Are you broken?"

"Definitely not," Roman replied, completely unfazed by my outburst. "Just trying to understand how a bride could be running around with a man who doesn’t love her."

"Says you, who has barely been around to tell!" I shot back.

"Everyone knows, Gianna."

The drop in his tone as he spoke my name made something dangerous loosen in my chest, even through my fury. 

I knew he was speaking the truth, but acknowledgment meant ruin.

"Things will work out," I said stubbornly, crossing my arms.

"Fine." Roman rolled his eyes slightly, clearly exhausted by my denial.

"Are you trying to piss me off?" I demanded

"No," Roman replied, his voice suddenly losing its harsh edge. His eyes turned serious. "I just want to make sure you’re okay."

"Making sure I’m okay is none of your business," I snapped.

I stood up abruptly, knocking my chair back against the floor, and marched out of the restaurant.

I walked straight to the car in the parking lot, my chest heaving with a mixture of rage and mounting dread.

Moments later, the restaurant doors swung open. Roman stepped out, moving toward the vehicle with an aura that screamed unbothered.

I yanked the passenger door open, slid inside, and slammed it shut. The engine roared to life as Roman pulled out of the lot.

I immediately turned my face toward the window, pretending to be fascinated by the passing Las Vegas streets.

Beneath my thighs, I jammed my hands down hard, pressing them against the leather seat so he wouldn’t see them shaking.

“I’m sorry, Gianna," Roman said smoothly, breaking the heavy silence.

The apology made me snap. I burst out instantly, like I had been waiting the entire time for him to say something just so I could unleash my anger.

"Dario and I are perfectly fine, Roman! We do not need your opinion on our relationship," I yelled, my voice tight in the enclosed space.

"Everything is well between us. If having us in your home is an issue, we will leave!"

Roman didn't yell back. Instead, he slowed the car at a red light and turned to face me fully.

"If everything is so perfect, why are you screaming to convince yourself?" he asked softly. He leaned closer across the center console, pinning me with his gaze.

"And why do you look and sound so touch-deprived?"

My breath caught. "What does that even mean?!"

"I don’t know," he said, shifting back slightly.

"You don’t know?!" I scoffed, my pulse racing out of control.

"I mean," Roman murmured, "when was the last time you were actually touched properly?"

"What does that have to do with this?" I asked, trying to look offended, but panic was clawing at my throat.

"Just answer the damn question, Gianna," he said. His voice was completely cold now, heavy with a dark authority that made me feel like he would choke me if I dared to refuse him.

I froze, trapped against the passenger seat. I swallowed hard, trying to assemble a defense. "I... Yesterday."

"With Dario?" he asked, an eyebrow lifting.

"Yes! Who else?" I shot back

Roman suddenly lifted his hands into the air, a dry, knowing look on his face.

"What?" I demanded, glaring at him.

"Nothing," he replied carelessly, lowering his hands back to the steering wheel as the light turned green.

"Then stop asking me questions if you do not know what to say next!" I countered, desperately trying to flip the script on him.

"Are you not a priest? You've been celibate your whole life. What do you even know about these things?"

The moment those words left my mouth, Roman became entirely mute. He didn't say a single word.

The silence inside the car grew so heavy and freezing cold that the vehicle literally felt like a graveyard. I held my breath, wishing I could take the words back.

Finally, after blocks of torturous silence, his deep voice rumbled. "I can take her out of the picture for you, if you want."

I blinked, completely caught off guard. "Who?"

"Franca."

My heart stopped. "No! No, she’s my best friend, for fuck's sake!" I gasped out.

"Oh, wow," he muttered, a dark chuckle escaping his lips.

"Why would you even think I want that?" I asked, looking at him like he was a monster.

"Because you love Dario," Roman said simply, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "And I want you to live happily."

"He’s your brother," I whispered, the weight of his darkness finally sinking in.

"And if he loves Franca, you would just take her out of the picture for me? Completely ignoring his feelings?"

"Yes," he replied. 

He spoke so casually, like we were talking about the weather and not my best friend. A cold shiver ran down my spine.

Neither of us said a single word after that as silence stretched all the way until we finally reached the house.

The moment the car stopped, I didn't even wait for him. I scrambled out of the passenger seat, stumbling slightly on the driveway as I ran quickly toward the front door.

I needed to get inside and get away from him. Who did he think he was to just say terrifying things like that?

I burst through the front door of the mansion, my lungs burning and my mind spinning from Roman’s words. I just needed to get to a safe space, away from him.

"Gianna, wait," Roman's voice called out from right behind me, his heavy footsteps echoing right at my back.

But the moment I stepped into the living room, the world stopped spinning entirely.

My bag slipped from my hands, crashing heavily onto the floor. My throat closed up, choking back the scream that instantly rose inside me.

Roman froze right behind my shoulder, his presence towering over me as we both stared at the nightmare in front of us.

There, right in the center of the living room, was Dario. He hadn't even bothered to take her upstairs to a bedroom, showing a complete disregard for secrecy.

He was down on his knees, his face buried deeply between a woman's wide-open legs. 

His hands were gripping her thighs, his fingers working inside her, fingering the living life out of her while his mouth devoured her desperately.

When I said I knew Dario, I meant it. I knew every single fucking thing about him because I had stalked his every move for years.

I was literally a crazy lover, obsessed with every detail of his life. 

And I could swear by God Himself that Dario despised giving a woman that specific kind of intimacy.

He hadn't even offered it to me last night. Yet here he was, shattering his own rules, devouring her like a man dying of thirst.

The woman threw her head back, letting out a loud, breathless moan that echoed through the living room.

As her face turned toward the doorway, the light hit her features perfectly.

I stared at her until the room lost all reality.

The woman with her legs wide open for my fiancé was Franca Moretti. My best friend.