𝐺𝐼𝑆𝐸𝐿𝐿𝐸

2 | 𝐺 𝑂 𝑂 𝐷 𝐺 𝐼 𝑅 𝐿

CHAPTER 2

"Perhaps understanding life is just as good as living it."

<3

I slowly walked back to my room above the garage after I knew I was out of sight from the tennis court. I played with my fingers as I thought about the first time Giovanni and I danced together. I was eight and he was thirteen. I was tall for my age back then and he needed to practice for his dance lessons.

Giovanni did not glance up once as he was concentrating on his feet, but I still look back on the memory with fondness. After he finished practicing, he thanked me and ran inside the house. I remember being sad at his sudden departure but then quickly smiled again when I saw him running back outside with something in his hand.

"This is for you. Thank you for helping me."

He had handed me a king-sized Kit-Kat bar.

For a long time I misread these simple acts of politeness. I thought I was special but really Giovanni, and the rest of the De Luca's were just brought up well: polite, well-mannered, and thoughtful. Unfortunately, when you have little life experience, it is easy to misinterpret these things.

Another soft autumn breeze went by and inhaled the sweet scent that accompanied it. Cool night air, musky and earthy because of all the leaves on the ground. I looked up towards the sky. You could barely see the stars but a few were visible. I was becoming entranced by the crescent moon when I ran into something.

The something ended up being a someone.

I looked at the person in front of me and felt my stomach reform the knots that had loosened on my walk back to the garage.

"Giselle," he said tightly, giving me a curt nod.

I looked at Vincent De Luca. This was the closest I had ever been to him.

"Sorry for bumping into you," I quickly apologized. He was still in his black suit from the party, his black hair a little ruffled from the wind. Vincent shoved his phone into his pocket.

"It's okay. You leave tomorrow morning, yes?" He looked down at me.

He knew I was going?

For a split second, I was genuinely taken aback that he knew I was leaving. Then it occured to me that my father had probably mentioned it to him on their daily trips into and out of the city.

I nodded and he quickly glanced at the movement before pulling out his phone again.

"Words, Giselle." He commanded softly.

"Yes."

He looked back up at me, a ghost of a smile in his eyes, "Good girl."

I gulped thickly and tried to breathe. In any and every interaction I had with Vincent, he, in some way, always brought up how quiet I was.