My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 11

Gianna

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The room was too big. It was too quiet, and it smelled too much like expensive flowers and floor wax. I lay in the middle of the massive bed, feeling like a speck of dust in this giant, cold mansion. I pulled the silk sheets up to my chin, but they didn't feel warm.

They just felt empty.

I let out a shaky breath, and then the first sob broke through. I pressed my face into the pillow to muffle the sound. I hated myself for it. I hated how small I felt. I sniffled, my nose running, my eyes burning from the salt of my own tears.

I was supposed to be the strong one. I was the one who was going to get us out of here. But right now, with the moonlight hitting the floor, I just felt like that empty, stupid girl the voice talked about.

Stop it. Stop being so pathetic.

I pushed myself off the bed. My feet hit the cold floor, and I walked toward the walk-in closet. It was bigger than my old bedroom.

I reached the top shelf, under the sweater and pulled it out.

It was just a long, heavy wooden stick. To anyone else, it was just wood. To me, it was the only thing that kept me determined to be better. It was what I used when I was too slow, when I couldn't get the words right, when I needed to remember that I had to be better.

It was my punishment and my teacher.

I held it in both hands, feeling the smooth, hard grain of the wood. I walked over to the full-length mirror and looked at myself. My eyes were red and puffy. My hair was a mess. I looked exactly like what the voice said, a joke. A useless thing that couldn't even spell a ten-letter word.

I raised the stick, my heart hammering. I looked at my reflection and felt a wave of pure, hot anger.

“Why are you like this, Gianna? Why can't you just be normal?”

"Gianna?"

I gasped... that wasn't the voice in my head. It was my mother. She was right outside my door.

"Gianna, honey? Are you still awake?"

Panic surged through me. My stomach dropped. If she saw me like this, if she saw the stick, she would know. She would every lie, she would see everything I try so hard to hide from her.

"One second, Mom!" I croaked.

I shoved the stick back into its hiding spot, making sure it was completely covered. My hands were shaking so hard I almost dropped it. I smoothed my hair down and wiped my face with the back of my hand, scrubbing at the tear stains until my skin felt raw.

I rushed to the door, my heart thudding against my ribs. I took a deep breath, trying to force my face into something that looked like... fine.

I couldn't let her in. I couldn't let her see the mess inside my head. She didn't need that after the life she had. She needed someone strong. And I have to be that someone.

I opened the door just a little bit, "Hey, what are you doing here?" I asked. I forced a fake smile, but my heart was racing, "I was just about to go to sleep."

My mother didn't say anything at first. She just searched my face with her eyes. I felt like I was going to lose it. I wanted to turn around and hide under the covers. Then she narrowed her eyes and looked at my red nose, "Have you been crying?"

"No," I said, but my voice was shaky. My stomach felt like it dropped through the floor.

She sighed and walked right past me into the room. That was when I saw Jules trailing behind her, holding onto her shirt like she was scared of me. That little traitor. My mom closed the door and turned around, cupping my face with both her hands.

"Is it about this morning?" she asked softly.

I froze. Did she know? Did someone call her? Did she see my messy notebook? "I... what?"

"I'm sorry about breakfast," she said, and I realized she was talking about something totally different, "I know this is a huge change, Gianna. It’s just been us for so long. And the Capones... they’re a lot. But we have to follow the rules of this house now. It’s just basic decency. We need them, honey. We need this roof over our heads."

I pulled back from her touch, "Mom, you can't be serious. You can't trust them. You can't trust any man, especially not men like this, not even Salvatore. He’s being nice now, but how long does that last? Men like him always have a price."

She dragged me over to the bed and sat me down, holding my hand tight, "Gianna, stop. You don't understand."

"I understand plenty," I snapped, "I see the way they look at us. You’re trading our freedom for a fancy house. It’s a bad deal, Mom. It's only a matter of time before he turns on you."

"Salvatore is different," she said, and her voice was so confident it scared me. She looked me right in the eyes. "No one has ever loved me the way he does. And I know it’s real because it’s not about... it’s not physical for him. He hasn't even tried to touch me like that, never have and never will and he is fine with that. He just wants me here. He wants to take care of us."

"That makes it even weirder!" I said, shaking my head. "If he doesn't want that, then what does he want? People don't just give away millions of dollars and giant houses for nothing. He wants control. He wants to own us like we’re part of the furniture. You’re putting our whole lives in the hands of a man who kills people for a living."

"And what was our life before?" she asked, "Working odd jobs? Watching you struggle to pay for school? Watching Jules grow up in a tiny apartment where the heat didn't work? Salvatore gave us safety. He gave us a future. Is it so wrong to want to be protected? Is it so wrong to let someone carry the weight for a while?"

I stared at her, my chest feeling like it was about to burst. I can give her all those things too. Why can't she see that? I wanted to scream it. I was the one staying up until 4:00 AM staring at code until my eyes bled. I was the one fighting my own broken brain every single day just to get a degree that would pay us a real salary. I was building a future with my own two hands, line by line, number by number.

Why did the protection always have to come from a man? Why did it have to be a guy with a gun or a big bank account? I was right here. I was smart, and I was working, and I would have walked through fire to keep them warm.

It felt like a slap in the face, like all my hard work didn't count because I wasn't a man in a suit. I didn't want a protector, I wanted to be the protector. I wanted her to believe in me as much as she believed in someone like Salvatore.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt," I said, my voice small.

"I won't," she promised, leaning over to kiss my forehead. "And neither will you. Just try to be kind, okay? For me?"

"Okay, Mom," I whispered, "I’ll try. I’ll be good."

The tension left her shoulders all at once. She let out a long breath and opened her arms. I didn't hesitate. I leaned into her, burying my face in her neck. She smelled like the lavender soap we used to buy at the dollar store, a scent that felt like home no matter where we were.

"My sweet, brave girl," she murmured into my hair.

She pulled back and patted the mattress. "Come here, both of you. Lie down."

I crawled back onto the giant bed, and Jules scrambled up on the other side. My mother lay in the middle, spreading her arms wide. I tucked myself against her left side, resting my head on her shoulder, while Jules curled into her right.

The bed was huge, but we all huddled together in the very center, making ourselves a small island of safety. My mother wrapped her arms around us, pulling us in tight. She held us like we were still toddlers, like we weren't twenty-one and ten years old. One of her hands stroked my hair, her fingers gently untangling the knots, while her other arm held Jules close.

"I’ve got you," she whispered, "I’ve got both of you. Nothing is going to happen to you. I will make sure of it, even if it's the last thing I do on this earth."

She wasn't just talking to me and Jules, she was talking to the walls of the mansion, to the men downstairs, and to the world that had been so mean to us for so long. She was telling the universe that we were hers, and she would burn everything down before she let anyone hurt us again.

I felt her heart beating against my ear, fast and hard. I knew she meant it. My mother would give up her very soul just to keep us safe.

I forced myself to relax against her. I wanted her to feel like I was on her side. I looked up at her face and tried to sound light. "So, what about the wedding?"

She let out a little laugh, suddenly looking shy, like she was a young girl again. It was a look I didn't recognize. "What about it? It’s going to be something small. Just us. Something simple."

"I can't believe you’ll be Mrs. Capone in just two days," I said.

"I can't believe it either," she whispered, her eyes looking far away, like she was seeing a dream come true.

"I can!" Jules piped up. She was beaming, her face full of excitement. "And I’m so happy about it. I love it here! It’s like a palace!"

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