Chapter 15 Sora #2
“I just get the sense that everyone’s angry with me. Sandro and Raf haven’t said a word to me. Genevieve has been incredibly helpful, but I don’t get the feeling that she trusts me. Miko threw a knife at me the other day—”
“He what?” Gio demands, his pleasant calm suddenly intensifying.
Oops. “I mean, I don’t think he meant to throw it at me. I went looking for Leo in the garage. He said he thought I was Sandro.”
Gio’s shoulders drop an inch as he rolls his eyes.
“Those two are idiots together. I’m pretty sure Raf is the only reason Sandro has lived this long.
Don’t take it personally. To be honest, we’re all kind of feral in one way or another.
We don’t have a lot of feminine influence in our lives—unless you count Genevieve, who came into the picture less than a year ago.
And she spends most of her time distracting Raf. ”
“What happened to your mother?” I ask, the question tumbling from my lips before I realize how rude it might sound. “If you don’t mind my asking,” I tack on quickly. A lifetime of lessons on how to be civil, and already I seem to have lost track of an important one about prying.
But Gio doesn’t seem offended by the question. “She died giving birth to the twins, so we were mostly raised by nannies. And our father has always been more obsessed with power and control than being polite—in case you haven’t noticed.”
It takes considerable restraint not to give a snort of acknowledgment. The don’s actions spoke well enough for themselves before I ever set foot in this house, but witnessing it firsthand after a week, I most definitely know what Gio is talking about.
“The staff have always been good to us, but whenever the don thought we were being coddled, he fired the person for getting too emotionally involved. Said it would make us weak.”
“That sounds like a lonely upbringing,” I observe, and it explains a lot about their borderline hostile behavior.
The Chiaroscuro brothers have been trained to expect detachment and impermanence—especially when it comes to women.
But Gio seems… less like that. He keeps to himself, sure, but he doesn’t make me feel like I’m in his way.
In fact, he’s made a point of connecting with me today.
“So, how did you end up nice when all the rest of the Chiaroscuros seem to border on being sociopaths?” I joke, though the more I learn about their family dynamics, the more curious I become.
Gio gives a low chuckle, then his expression shifts, his shoulders dropping, his brows pressing together as the corners of his lips curve into a sad smile. The deep pain that fills his eyes makes my heart twist.
“I had a rare woman once,” he says softly. “She taught me a lot about becoming a man.”
“What happened to her?” I murmur, sensing his loss is still a festering wound.
“She was killed a long time ago,” he says, his eyes dropping to the leather-bound book in his hands. “But I never stopped loving her. She shaped the man I am today. I have her to thank for so many things.”
My chest squeezes at the sadness rolling off Gio in waves. I want nothing more than to reach out to him, but that would be inappropriate.
“I think you might be able to do the same for Leo,” he says suddenly, lifting his hazel gaze to meet mine once more. And the light in his eyes is kind and warm. “He might be an ass sometimes, but he cares more deeply than he would like to admit.”
Heat warms my cheeks as I wonder if he means Leo cares more about me or the world at large.
Either way, as much as I would like to believe him, I’m not so sure it’s true.
If anything, Leo seems to hate the world—and me most of all.
But I appreciate Gio’s support and the fact that he would grant me the same esteem he has for this woman he fell so deeply in love with.
“Thank you, Gio. Really. You’re the first person I’ve felt like I could talk to around here, and it means a lot.”
Gio chuckles as he reaches out to pat my shoulder. “I can’t promise it’ll get easier, but you’re family now. If you need something, let me know.”
A relieved laugh rushes from me, and I smile for what feels like the first time in months.
“What the hell is going on in here?”
All the tension that had left my body comes flooding back, and my shoulders bunch as I slowly turn to find Leo standing in the library doorway, his brown eyes molten and his expression thunderous.
“Gio and I were just talking, getting to know each other a little,” I say, anxiety bubbling up inside me because the explanation doesn’t seem to be calming Leo’s anger.
“Well, don’t,” he growls, his eyes shifting to Gio’s. “If you want a wife, Brother, get your own.”
“It wasn’t like th—”
“Go to our suite, Sora,” he commands, cutting me off. “I’ll deal with you once I’m done having a word with my little brother.”
Oh, God, what have I done?
I glance fearfully toward Gio, who gives me a curt nod, but that only escalates Leo.
“Go!” he snarls, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
Heart in my throat, I race from the room, my feet carrying me toward our wing of the house even as my mind screams that I should be getting the hell out of here.