Page 124 of Unchained

She peers up at me, that glimmer in her dark eyes returning.

“Okay. I got it. When will you be back?” Dom mutters.

“I’ve got some things to figure out. I need to speak to Enzo. Then we can go from there.” She orders.

Can we do this? Keep this, whatever it is, between us, when we’re living nearly four hundred miles apart? It didn’t work for Ace and Harper. It fucking broke them.

When she left me for not even half a day, I missed her. I’m starting to resemble my love-sick brothers.

She slides her hand into mine, her nails digging into my skin. “Before I demolish this fucking house, do you want to see where I grew up? And I also need a shower before we ride home.”

I’m not sure I want to see this prison where he kept his kids. But she obviously wants me to; otherwise she wouldn’t have asked. “Yeah, baby. I’d like that.”

She tugs me forward, and I follow behind her up the grand staircase. Stopping after two steps, she slowly turns to face me with a devious grin. She has blood smeared over her face, a bruise already forming on her cheek, and she’s never looked more perfect. “I need you to use your strong arms, cowboy.”

I don’t miss a beat; I scoop her up and hold her against my chest. I’ll take any moment of vulnerability from her.

“Better?” I ask as I climb the rest of the stairs.

“Much. I don’t need to pretend with you that I’m not hurting, cause I am. My back is killing me.”

I grit my teeth, trying to swallow down the anger. His own daughter. His flesh and blood. How the fuck can anyone lay hands on their kids?

“I’ve got you, viper. You know that,” I tell her, pressing a kiss in her hair.

When I reach the top of the stairs, I pause. There must be at least ten closed white doors up here.

“Four doors down, on the right,” she says.

I count the doors as I pass, wondering what happened behind each of them over the years. I want to get her out of here, as far as damn possible, but instead I gave her the keys not just to return here, but to rule it. And I’m not sure how that sits with me.

She’s better than the Milano family. I know she is. And I’m right here, however she needs me to burn this place down and create something that's hers.

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

Gianna

Colt sits down on the edge of the bed, still holding me in his arms. I watch the way his jaw tenses as he scans the room.

It’s exactly how I left it when I moved out twelve years ago. White walls. White bed. White furniture. That way Dad could see any mess we’d made.

“This can’t be your childhood bedroom,” he says quietly.

“Don’t you think it’s cute?” I joke. Using my favorite new word. This was my life; no wonder I recoiled at the thought of anything sweet. It didn’t exist to me. That’s why I made my mansion into a gothic paradise, but I have to say, I am coming round to the country chic too.

He frowns. “You didn’t have a window?”

I chew on my lip; to be honest, I hadn’t ever considered that. This was my room, and it was all I knew.

“I guess Dad didn’t want me to escape in the middle of the night and run off to my boyfriend.”

Colt lets out a breath, rubbing his hands softly along my arm. “Yeah. Maybe, G.”

His eyes land on the bedside table, the picture in a gold frame, and he studies it. I can’t even look at it. I know exactly what it is.

“Is that all of you?” he asks.

“Yeah. Dom is on my left, Max on my right, and Fab beside him. Mom behind us.” I don’t even recognize my cracked voice.