Chapter 27
The warm scent of garlic and herbs permeated Dimitri’s penthouse, wrapping around Giselle like a comforting embrace. The soft clink of dishes and the low hum of music playing through the sound system made the vast space feel intimate, safe.
She curled her legs up on the plush leather sofa, letting her head lean back against the cushion. Across the room, Dimitri was in the kitchen, plating the pasta he had made from scratch, his broad shoulders moving with effortless precision.
It should have been a perfect evening. But then her phone rang. She exhaled slowly, her pulse steady, but her patience was already frayed. She could just let it go to voicemail. She could pretend she hadn’t seen it. But she was tired of pretending.
She stood up and answered the call. “Hello?”
“Giselle!” her mother’s voice was sharp with exasperation. “Why haven’t you been answering? We’ve been calling you all day.”
Giselle pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’ve been busy.”
“Well, we need you,” her father cut in, his voice gruff with irritation. “Your mother’s credit card bill is overdue, and we can’t afford the late fees. You need to cover it.”
Of course they did.
“And I need some cash, too,” her father added. “Just a little. Nothing big. Just enough to get through the week.”
Giselle closed her eyes, gripping the phone tightly. Her body was screaming for her to give them the same answer she always had. Okay, fine. I’ll take care of it. Just this once.
But she wasn’t that woman anymore.
She inhaled slowly. “Hmm, what should I do? Should I use my money to bail Craig out of jail, so he doesn’t have to spend the night in a cell?”
A sharp silence crackled on the line.
“Or,” she continued, voice smooth but laced with steel, “should I spend it on Mom’s credit card bill? Or on Dad’s beer money?”
More silence.
For the first time in her life, they didn’t have an immediate answer.
They hesitated.
And that told her everything she needed to know.
Giselle nodded to herself, lips pressed into a thin line. Then she hung up.
She sat there, staring at her phone, feeling something heavy lift off her chest.
A strong arm lifted her up and she was set down on a hard lap, muscular arms pulling her against a broad chest. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
Dimitri.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just held her. Tight. Unwavering. Solid.
After a long beat, he murmured against her hair, “You’re mine now, mia cara.”
The warmth in his voice, the confident claim, sent a strange, shivery feeling down her spine. Laughter bubbled up before she could stop it. She turned in his arms, tilting her head to look at him.
“I’m going to need a lot of therapy to move on from all of this,” she admitted, her voice half-dry, half-exhausted. “My mother is probably going to have to get a job to pay for her shopping addiction and my father…? I have no idea how he’s going to break free from his alcoholism.”
Dimitri smirked, but there was something serious behind his dark eyes. “I’ll pay for your therapy.”
She chuckled. “Absolutely not. Some weirdo pays me a ridiculous salary to find bad guys in his corporation.” She stretched and kissed his jawline.
His hands slid up her arms, grounding her. “I’ll pay off your mother’s credit card bill and help your father through recovery, if you want that. If it’ll help you.”
The offer touched something deep in her chest. It was tempting.
Ever so tempting. But no. That wasn’t what she needed.
She shook her head, curling her fingers into the front of his shirt.
“No. Thank you for the offer, but just like Craig, they need to accept the consequences of their addiction. It will be better if they have to crawl their way out of their problems.” She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder.
“And I need to start healing myself. I need to be strong. And that starts now.”
Dimitri studied her, his gaze slow and measured, and then he nodded.
“But,” she added, more softly, “I love you for offering.”
His lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “I love you for saying no.”
She blinked. “You do?”
“Mmh.” He pulled her closer, lowering his head until his lips brushed her ear. “Means you’re finally fighting for yourself.”
Her breath hitched. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t fighting for them. She was fighting for her. And she wasn’t doing it alone.