Page 36 of His Bride

And through this, through all the vile words that left my mouth, for all the things he said to me, not one word from him wasfor Giana. Not even a hint of concern for her well-being or her in general. And that’s the reason I hate this man beyond any comprehension.

It’s not his arrogance or cowardice. It’s his lack of caring for his only daughter—the woman I’ve fallen completely and wholly in love with.

I hate him. It’s thick and dense, like acid that sticks while it burns, and the hotter, nastier, deeper the burn, the more my hate grows.

I step back and let the disdain show. “Go fuck yourself, you piece of shit. You’re nothing more than an incompetent man and a sorry excuse for a father.”

“I need your help, please!”

“No!” I snap then lean closer, gritting my teeth. “It’s enough that you managed to make your daughter our problem—myfucking problem. And I don’t care if Aurelio butchers your precious Cristiano into tiny little fucking pieces and feeds him to his dogs.”

“Caelian.” I hear Isaia behind me, but ignore him.

“I bet Aurelio will start with his tongue, then carve into him, like the finest sashimi. And when he’s all sliced, diced, flayed, and fileted?—”

“Caelian, you nee?—”

“—the Le Fonti fucker would probably rip out your boy’s still beating heart.” I scoff. “I bet if given the choice between your life, his, and your daughters, you’d eat his heart, then hers.”

“Brother, stop.”

“All of this, everything that’s happened to this family is because of you and your daughter. So, fuck you. We won’t be adopting another one of your goddamn messes!”

Silence swallows up all the air. A sudden shift in the atmosphere, and then I feel it. Feel her.

I turn to face her, the look of pain her expression slicing deeper than any blade could. She's heard every word, every venomous sentence.

“Giana,” I say, not sure which words will follow. But she merely stares at me, blue eyes iced with a cold glare. It’s like she can see straight through me at that moment, and it’s clear she hates everything she sees.

A tear forms in the corner of her eye, and she simply dabs it away with her finger and straightens her shoulders as she looks at her father.

“Give me twenty minutes to pack my things.” She turns around then pauses, glancing over her shoulder at me, her gaze a prism of broken pieces. “I beg you with everything that I am to not stop me from leaving.”

“Giana.” I try to reach for her, but she pulls away, and this time she looks at Nicoli.

“Please,” she murmurs.

There’s a moment of hesitation before he gives her the permission she seeks with a simple nod.

Chapter 9

GIANA

Ice pricks at my skin, and at the same time, the flame burns deep. And my stomach turns, pain twisting around my insides like barbed wire.

Caelian’s hurt me before, but this time’s different.

It’s deeper, an almost numbing ache that reaches far beyond tears and sobs of heartache. It’s debilitating and unfamiliar like I’m both stone and shattered glass.

The taste of heartbreak is bitter on my tongue, yet the sharpness keeps me alert.

There is a certain perverse strength in this suffering, a power in pain, waking a determination that’s this simmering, seething thing, and it’s fueling me to get out of this damn house as fast as I can.

“You’re not leaving.” Caelian appears at the door, leaning against the frame as I pack my things.

“I don’t need your permission,” I reply without looking at him.

“Oh, that’s right. Nicoli said you can leave, so now you think you’re free to go? Stop packing.”

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