Chapter 91 My Gianna Is Back

Chapter 91 My Gianna Is Back
Dmitry

Gianna doesn't spare me another glance. She just keeps shaking her head, tears spilling down her cheeks as though she can't stop them, and every single one lands like a knife to my chest. I've seen her cry before. I've held her through panic attacks, nightmares, grief, and heartbreak. This is different.

This time, I'm the reason.

The realization settles deep in my bones, crushing the last bit of denial I had left. I keep trying to convince myself that everything I did was to protect her, that Tamer was the only version of me she trusted enough to confide in, but none of those excuses matter anymore. No amount of love changes the fact that I lied to her. I blurred every boundary she thought existed between her private life and mine, all because I couldn't bear the thought of letting either version of her go.

"Gianna..." My voice breaks around her name. I take a cautious step forward, keeping my hands low where she can see them. "Please forgive me."

She flinches before I've even reached her, not because I've touched her but because she's afraid I will. The movement knocks the air from my lungs harder than any punch ever could, I stop immediately, but it isn't enough.

She backs away again, her breathing uneven, her arms wrapping tightly around herself as though she's trying to hold herself together before she completely falls apart.

"I have to go." Her words tumble over one another, rushed and fractured by sobs she can no longer contain. "I... I can't stay here. I need to get away from you. I need..." She squeezes her eyes shut for a second before forcing herself to look at me again. "I need to think without you standing in front of me."

Every instinct inside me screams to stop her, to hold her, to beg, and to explain. Instead, I stand there frozen, because I've finally understood something.

If I touch her now, it won't comfort her, it will only make this worse.

She wipes furiously at her face with the sleeve of her hoodie before turning toward the door.

"Gianna, please..." I whisper, knowing she's already gone long before she takes the first step.

She doesn't answer, she doesn't even look back. The study door flies open, then slams shut with enough force to rattle the shelves lining the walls.

Silence crashes over the room, I stare at the closed door, willing it to open again, willing her to come back and tell me this is a nightmare neither of us has to live through. It doesn't.

My knees finally give out beneath me, I hit the hardwood floor so hard pain shoots through my legs, but I barely register it. I drag both hands through my hair, my chest tightening until every breath feels like I'm inhaling shards of glass.

"Gianna!" I shout, my voice echoing through the house.

There’s no answer, the only thing that comes back is the sound of my own ragged breathing. I bow my head, my forehead resting against the floor as the weight of everything I've done crashes down on me all at once.

Suddenly I’m taken back to five years ago when I left her, back then there was a plan. Maybe not solid but it was in place, now? I felt like a fucking idiot with no idea on how to fix the mess I've made.

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Two days.
It has been two fucking days since I last saw Gianna.
Two days since she walked out of my study looking at me like I was someone she'd never known. Two days since I watched the woman I love walk away because of a lie I should've confessed months ago. Every hour without her feels like someone reached into my chest and ripped my heart out, leaving behind nothing but an ache that refuses to dull.
Donny told me she left the house that same night, she hasn't come back and I haven't gone looking for her either.
Not because I don't know where she is, not because I don't want to but because I don't have the right.

I've picked my phone up a hundred times over the last forty-eight hours. I've typed out apologies until the words stopped meaning anything, only to delete every single one before hitting send. I know she'd ignore me. Worse, she'd probably read them and feel pressured to answer when all she'd asked for was space.

For the first time in my life, I'm giving her exactly what she asked for, and it feels like the cruelest punishment imaginable.

Sleep has become a stranger. Every time I shut my eyes, I see her standing in the doorway of my study with tears streaming down her face. I hear her asking me who Kitten was, asking me how long I'd been lying, and every answer I gave only shattered her a little more. I keep replaying that moment, wondering what would've happened if I'd told her the truth the night I realised who she was. Maybe she'd have hated me then too, but at least she would've hated an honest man, instead, she fell in love with a liar.

A knock sounds against the office door before it opens a crack, Donny steps inside cautiously, studying me for a moment before speaking. "Boss?"

"What?"

"You haven't eaten since yesterday."

"I'm not hungry."

He sighs, closing the door behind him. "With all due respect, that's bullshit."

I don't even bother arguing, the untouched tray beside me proves his point well enough.

He walks over, picks up the cold cup of coffee that's been sitting on my desk since this morning, and grimaces before setting it back down.

"You look like hell."

"I feel worse."

He leans against the edge of the desk, folding his arms. "Have you heard from her?"

I shake my head.’

"Have you tried calling?"

Another shake.

He studies me for a long moment before speaking again. "That doesn't sound like you."

"I am not like me."

"What's stopping you?"

I let out a humourless laugh and rub my face. "She looked scared of me, Donny."

The words taste like acid. "Not angry." I swallow hard. "Fucking scared."

Donny's expression softens, but he doesn't interrupt.

"I've spent my entire life making sure nobody ever had the power to hurt her." I stare blankly at the papers scattered across my desk. "Turns out I became the person she needed protecting from."

The silence that follows is suffocating.

Donny drags a chair out from the opposite side of my desk and lowers himself into it, resting his forearms on his knees. He studies me for a long moment before speaking, choosing his words with far more care than usual.

"You know," he says quietly, "I've worked for you long enough to know when you're making excuses and when you're telling the truth."

I let out a dry laugh. "And which one am I doing now?"

"The second one."

I look up at him, Donny has never been one to mince words and if he says I’m making excuses then I am. 

"I know you, boss. I've seen the things you've done for that girl. I've watched you cross countries for her, bleed for her, lose sleep because she had a nightmare. None of that was fake."

"No." My fingers curl into fists. "But the foundation was."

He shakes his head. " I don’t know what happened but I am certain you had her safety in mind and your feelings were genuine."

"The feelings don't matter if they're built on lies."

"They matter to you."

"They don't matter to Gianna."

Donny exhales slowly. "Can you blame her?"

"No." The answer comes so quickly neither of us is surprised by it. "I would've reacted the same way."

He nods once. "Then stop playing the victim and start making plans to bring the young lady back.”

"I can’t do that, I just have to wait."

Donny looks at me with a frown, "You really think she'll come back on her own?"

"I don't know." The admission feels strangely freeing. "I don't know if she'll ever want to see me again."

Before either of us can say another word, three soft knocks echo through the study, neither of us moves but I can feel my heart stutter painfully against my ribs.

Donny notices the change in my expression immediately. "Boss..."
I don't answer him, my eyes remain fixed on the door. That knock, I'd know it anywhere.

Every evening she'd stand outside this room and knock exactly like that before asking if I was too busy for a break. Sometimes she'd bring coffee. Sometimes she'd steal mine. Other times she'd simply curl up on the sofa with a book while I worked, happy just to exist in the same room as me.

My Gianna is back.

Hope surges through me before I have the chance to kill it, I rise so quickly my chair topples backwards.
"Come in," I call, my voice rough with anticipation.