Chapter 22
Gianna
My eyes slowly blink open, and I roll to my side, pulling the blanket over my body.
My still sleepy eyes clear when I don't see Finn by my side.
I jolt up in panic. I look around the room, and he's not here.
My heart begins to race, and when I hear the clanging of metal pans against each other, I relax.
He's probably in the kitchen, Gianna, relax.
Last night's sleep was the best I've had in a long time, and it's obvious why—because Finn was by my side last night.
I run my hand through my hair. I can't believe I told Finn the truth.
It was just starting to become a heavy burden for me to carry, and not only that, I hated that I had to lie to him.
But what I couldn't believe the most was how easily Finn forgave.
I expected him to lash out. I expected him to want nothing to do with me, but instead, he embraced me. I've been wrong about Finn all this while. He's so different, too different that it makes it scary.
"I guess deep down... I knew. I just wanted to keep you by my side.
" He wanted me to stay by his side. His words echo in my mind.
I swallow and try not to read too much into it.
I slip off the bed, my nightwear flowing around me.
I changed into something comfortable last night, not because I was trying to seduce Finn. Who am I kidding? I was.
I check the burner. What am I thinking? That Vito would call or text after I told him I could take care of myself? I sigh and drop the phone, making my way towards the soft noise coming from the kitchen. The smell of pancakes and bacon forces its way through my nostrils, and my stomach churns.
My legs carry me to the kitchen, and I see Finn in a brown sweatshirt and pants.
He's dishing the meal onto plates. He raises his head when he notices me, and those green eyes make my legs grow weak, and it doesn't help when his lips break into a full smile.
My heart races, not from fear or panic, but from something about Finn.
He's a handsome man; even in college, girls were always after him.
"Morning," he says, his eyes returning to the plate as he finishes plating the food. "Good morning," I reply, my legs moving before my head. I reach the kitchen counter and sit in the chair.
"Hungry?" Finn asks, setting the plate before me. My mouth waters as the scent fills my nostrils. I pick up the scent of freshly brewed coffee. My head turns to the coffee machine, and the sight makes me so happy.
I don't even wait for Finn to join me. I stab the fork into the pancakes, slicing them with the fork. I put the slice in my mouth, and a moan escapes my lips. They're perfect. "I didn't think you'd remember how to make these," I say between bites.
I watch as Finn pushes his plate of food aside and strolls to my side with two cups of coffee in hand, taking a seat. "How could I forget? I made these for you too many times in college," he answers, taking a sip of his coffee.
I smile, the memory slipping into my mind like a warm breeze, those quiet mornings when I taught him to mix the batter to achieve a fluffy pancake.
He'd always mess it up the first time, and I'd laugh until my stomach hurt, wiping flour off his nose.
Those times were the happiest and most normal my life has ever been.
A strange slice of joy in the chaos we were born into.
I look away from him, forcing my attention back to my plate. We eat in silence. He's deep in thought, too. I can tell from the way his fingers tap gently against his mug, the way he barely chews before swallowing.
I almost gave in yesterday when Finn suggested we run away. It's something I've always fantasized about my whole life.
But I could never bring myself to do it because I was scared. This time, Sofia's words ring in my head. "You need to face your battle; running isn't an option, sweetie." She was right. I'm not going to run, not because I'm not scared. God knows I'm terrified, but I have to face my battles.
I started the wheel of this when I decided to talk to Finn on that dating app, and I'm going to see this through.
I finish my food, and it feels like I just received the strength of ten men.
"Thank you," I turn to Finn, and he wipes my lower lip with his thumb.
I feel that familiar shiver run down my spine.
I don't think I can get used to his touch.
"You've got something on your lips," he says and looks away like he didn't just set my soul on fire. He stands, collecting the plates and walking them to the sink. I watch his back, broad, strong, steady as he rinses them off.
"Get ready, we'll be heading out soon," he says, back still facing the sink. I raise my brow.
"Where are we going?" I ask, not liking the fact that his back is turned to me like he's trying to hide something in his expression.
"We have to meet someone," he answers, the sound of the running water muffling the tension in his voice.
"Can you be any clearer?" I snap. I don't like being kept in the dark.
Finn turns to me and smiles. "Just get ready."
"Who's this someone? Will they be able to help us?" I ask, because that's the only thing I can think of. "Yeah," Finn says and I feel a bit relieved, but something about his answer still keeps me on edge.
The tires of Finn's BMW 3-Series screech against the gravel as he parks his car. A greenhouse? I take a look at it and back at our luggage before I unbuckle my seatbelt. I kind of enjoyed the peace of the safe house, but staying there forever isn't an option.
Finn unbuckles his seat belt. "Let's go," he says and steps out of the car. I step out too, and we close the doors simultaneously.
Finn walks to my side and grabs my hand, tugging me slightly towards the greenhouse entrance.
I follow him quietly, enjoying the warmth of his hand in mine.
The scent of plants and damp earth hits me the moment we step inside.
I pause and take it all in. Shafts of golden light filter through the glass panels above, bouncing off the leaves.
We walk further in. Moisture clings to the air, laced with the smell of blooming jasmine, fresh soil and something citrusy I can't place. The path beneath our feet is narrow, laid with moss-covered stones, leading between beds of vegetables and flowers growing in organized chaos.
I run my hand over a leaf as we pass. It's beautiful here, and it makes me wonder who exactly we'll be meeting. I steal a glance at Finn, but he's focused ahead. He raises his watch to his eyes.
"Is this person late?" I ask, hoping he at least tells me something, any detail will suffice as long as it quenches this curiosity in me. "I guess so," he answers, still looking ahead. The tension in the air is high, too high. Who are we meeting, and how will they help us?
I glance at Finn. He's wearing a black shirt and pants. "Why are all your clothes so dark?" I blurt out. "What do you have against colored clothes?"
Finn's brows furrow before a small smirk tugs at his lips. "How do you know I don't have colored clothes?" he asks with a raised brow. Busted. I fold my lips in my mouth and tilt my head to the side.
He raises his brows. I groan. "Fine, I went through your closet. Happy?" Finn chuckles, and that sound makes my heart warm. Since breakfast, he's been on edge. He's about to speak when I hear that voice, the voice I could recognize even from a distance.
"Gianna," Vito calls, his voice sending a cold chill down my spine as he appears from the direction Finn has been looking at. He looks sturdy as ever, his black suit is pressed to perfection, his hair perfectly styled, and his hands are in his pockets as he inches closer.
I swallow, my eyes flickering to Finn. He's not surprised. Then it hits me. Vito is the mystery person we're supposed to meet. What is Finn thinking? How will Vito help?
"You don't look excited to see me," Vito says, his eyes flickering to my hand in Finn's before landing on my face.
Finn lets go of my hand, and I feel an ache in my chest. "You kept your word," Vito says to Finn. Finn's jaw is clenched as he stares daggers at Vito, but Vito only smirks.
"I didn't think you were going to show up either," Finn bites back, his tone laced with venom.
"It's a matter concerning my dear sister," Vito's eyes flicker from Finn to me and settle back on Finn. I almost gag at the words 'dear sister.' Since when did he care so deeply about me, and more baffling—when did Finn contact Vito?
"Finn," I call, but he ignores me. His focus is on Vito. What is he planning on doing?
"Declan knows she's the mole, and he wants her dead. You need to pull her out and end this game."
"Finn!" I yell, but he doesn't budge. He doesn't even look my way.
Vito narrows his gaze at him, and I'm sure my stare can drill into his face. "Are you listening!" Finn raises his voice. "Declan wants war. I don't want it. So, you have to pull Gianna out."
"No!" I yell, this time louder. They won't act like I'm not standing right here as they decide my fate. Not again. "You don't speak for me, Finn."
"You heard the Irish boy, Gianna. Game's over," Vito says. His voice is flat, but his eyes don't leave mine. There's something underneath it, something tight and unspoken, but I'm too furious to care what it is. He's not who I'm concerned about.
I turn to face Finn. "What do you think will happen if you return without me? Declan will have your head," I try to speak some sense into him. "I'm not going anywhere," I say, meaning every single word.
Finn has stood for me, vouched for me, and protected me. Even right now, he's doing just that. I can't let him risk his life. What kind of person would that make me? And most importantly, I couldn't bear the thought of something bad happening to him.
Finn looks down at me, his eyes softening for a fleeting second, but I can also see the resolve in them. The kind that says he's made up his mind.
Vito steps in like a storm, close enough that I can feel the heat of him. "Let's go, Gianna," he says, his voice clipped and cold. "Every minute we stand here is another minute Declan has to send men through that door. I'm not losing you in this building."
"Let go of me, Vito. I'm not going anywhere," I struggle in his grasp to free my hand, but it only tightens. Panic surges through me. "I know what Declan is capable of. He's going to kill him."
"I care about keeping you alive, Gianna. That's all I care about right now." Vito moves between me and Finn, cutting off my line of sight. "Everything else—you, him, whatever this is—we handle it at home. Not here. Not with Declan's men probably twenty minutes out."
Each step he pulls me feels like a thread unraveling. My heart stutters in my chest as I twist in his hold to keep my eyes on Finn. No, no, no, no. This isn't the plan. How will Finn face this alone? I struggle to release my hand.
"Let her go," Finn's voice cuts through my tantrum. He reaches out, grabbing Vito's arm and yanking it off me with such force it nearly throws Vito off balance.
If looks could kill, Finn would probably be dead now. Vito is fuming. His jaw is clenched, and I can tell he's a second away from unleashing hell.
"She doesn't want to go with you," Finn replies, placing himself firmly between us.
"I'm not going with you, Vito," I assert. "You never cared, so stop pretending to be a good brother now." Vito stares at me for a beat, eyes blazing, but he says nothing.
Finn's hand finds mine and tugs me behind him, shielding me like he always does.
We walk out of the greenhouse, the heavy scent of the earth and leaves clinging to my skin like the weight of everything I'm leaving behind.
I glance over my shoulder one last time, catching the way Vito stands frozen, rage rippling off him like heat waves.
Finn opens the car door without a word, and I slip inside, pulse thudding in my ears, watching as he moves to the driver's side. He slides into his seat, jaw tight, and glances at me. "Wear your seatbelt." That's all he says before driving away.