19. Giuliano
19
GIULIANO
I 'd made my decision.
Choices like these used to be simple. Keep the asset isolated. Maintain control. Don't blur the fucking lines.
But there I was in the kitchen before dawn, about to break my own rules. Because somehow, watching her eat alone in her room had become another kind of torture. Because maybe Enzo had a point about trust—not that I'd admit that to his face.
Because I wanted her at my table. Simple as that.
The kitchen staff scattered as I entered; good instincts, all of them. Even Geoffrey waited by the door, careful to keep his distance this morning.
"Sir? The usual arrangements?"
I stared at the empty chair. Her chair. It shouldn't feel this significant, bringing her to breakfast. Just another calculated risk. Just another way to bind her closer to us. To me.
"Changes today." The words came out like gravel. "Set an extra place."
His face stayed carefully blank. Smart man. But the silence in the kitchen shifted, loaded with unasked questions.
Let them wonder. I was doing enough of that for everyone.
I'd ordered the lock disabled on her door last night, giving her free access to this section of the compound. Watching her on the feed this morning, the way she'd paused at her open doorway, testing this new freedom like she wasn't quite sure it was real... Well, some decisions you can't take back. Not that I wanted to
"Look who's gone soft," Enzo said, walking in. He headed straight for the coffee like he always did.
"Don't start." My jaw clenched. Too early for his shit.
"What?" He leaned against the counter, watching me over his cup. "You're the one changing the rules."
Trust. Freedom. Whatever the hell we were calling it. Like that's all this was about. Like every time I gave her an inch, it didn't feel like losing control of something I never really had.
"We still need to be careful," I said instead, watching Vincenzo slip in.
"Finally letting our bird spread her wings?" His quiet amusement hit too close to home. "Or just tired of eating alone?"
I was about to tell Vincenzo exactly where he could shove his commentary when movement caught my eye.
Pearl. Standing in the doorway like she was waiting for permission. She'd dressed for breakfast—really dressed for it. A cream-colored dress that hugged her curves just right, hitting that sweet spot between innocent and dangerous. The kind of outfit that made you forget she was a prisoner until you remembered that's exactly why it hit so hard.
The room went dead silent. And I knew without looking that every man in the room was watching her. Wanting her. The possessive surge in my blood surprised me with its intensity.
"I..." She gestured vaguely at the hallway behind her. "I can come back later."
"Stay." The word came out harsher than I'd wished. I forced my voice softer. "Please."
Her eyes found mine, searching for the trap. Always so careful, our Pearl. Always testing the boundaries. I held her gaze, letting her see whatever she needed to in order to trust this moment.
Finally, she nodded. One small step toward the table. Then another.
Enzo pulled out her chair—of course he did—catching my eye over her head with that knowing smirk of his. Bastard was enjoying this way too much.
She sat carefully, like she was still learning her place here. Don't know why that got under my skin so much. Maybe because after everything we'd done, she was still here. Still trying. Still making me want things I had no business wanting.
I took my own seat, hyper-aware of her presence across the table. Close enough to touch if I let myself. Close enough to see how her fingers curved around the coffee cup like she was holding something precious.
"Sugar?" I managed, keeping my voice steady.
"Black is fine." Her voice soft but steady. Like in the library, right before I'd?—
No. Focus.
Breakfast proceeded with surprising normalcy. Vincenzo discussing security rotations. Rocco complaining about supply chain issues. Angelo's quiet comments about training schedules. But underneath it all ran an electric current of awareness.
I watched her slowly relax as the meal progressed. How she actually smiled at one of Rocco's terrible jokes. The way she unconsciously leaned toward Enzo when he spoke, then caught herself and straightened.
The way she carefully didn't look at me at all.
"You actually eat that stuff?" Rocco nodded at her plate, breaking the silence. Trust him to go straight for food.
"What's wrong with eggs?" Pearl asked.
"Nothing, if you like them turned to rubber." He leaned forward. "Let me make you breakfast tomorrow. Show you what real food tastes like."
"You volunteering to cook?" Angelo didn't look up from his paper. "Must be serious."
"Hey, my cooking got us through that clusterfuck last summer."
"Your cooking nearly got us killed last summer," Enzo corrected, grinning when Pearl's eyebrows shot up.
"That wasn't the cooking, that was—" Rocco caught himself, glancing at Pearl.
"That was what?" she asked, and something in her voice made me pay attention.
"Nothing interesting," I cut in, but Vincenzo was already smirking.
"Let's just say some of us learned the hard way not to mix business with Rocco's experimental phase in the kitchen."
Pearl's laugh caught us all off guard. Not her usual careful chuckle, but something real. Unguarded.
"Okay, now you have to tell me."
"No, they really don't," I said, but I was already losing this battle. Could see it in how they were all looking at her like they'd forgotten she wasn't supposed to be part of this.
"More coffee?" I offered, needing to break whatever spell had fallen over the table.
She startled slightly, then nodded. As I refilled her cup, our fingers brushed. Just for a moment. But it was enough to send fire racing through my veins.
This was getting dangerous. Every smile she gave, even the smallest ones, made me forget what she was supposed to be. Made me forget about plans and leverage and everything else that used to matter. Made me want to be the one drawing those smiles out of her.
"Thank you." She met my eyes properly for the first time that morning. "For this."
I could have said something cold. Something to maintain distance. Instead: "You're welcome here. Always."
Her eyes widened slightly, and fuck if that didn't take me right back to the library. To that moment before I'd kissed her. To all the things I still wanted. Then Angelo shifted beside her, and the moment broke.
Right. Because this wasn't just about me anymore. Maybe it never had been.
I watched her leave after breakfast, each step graceful despite her obvious uncertainty. Watched how every man in the room tracked her movement. Watched how she glanced back, just once, before disappearing down the hallway.
"Well." Vincenzo's voice drew me back to reality. "That was interesting."
Interesting. Like a bomb waiting to explode wasn't interesting. Like the way she was quietly dismantling everything I thought I knew about control wasn't interesting.
The others filed out. I could still hear her laugh, see that unguarded smile. Feel how everything had shifted in the space of one fucking breakfast.
And I was already in too deep to care.