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I felt a knot tighten in my stomach as I observed the exchange between my siblings and Larissa. Their prying questions and knowing glances set me on edge. I knew what they were thinking—that there was more to my relationship with Larissa than I had let on.

“Won’t your family miss you, Larissa? I recall you mentioned living in Russia. Where are they based now, again?” Dante asked, his piercing gaze fixed on me, waiting to see how I would react.

But before I could step in with a cover-up answer, Larissa smoothly intervened, placing a hand on my arm as she smiled at Dante.

“It's complicated, you know how it is,” she said with a casual shrug, her eyes meeting each of my siblings in turn. “Gio's been nothing but a gentleman to me. Just a friend helping me out when I needed it.”

“A friend,” Achille wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Or is it something… more complicated?” he used her own words on her.

“It’s just that,” Dante added in a polite tone. “You’re unusual company for Gio.”

“He’s usually not the kind to enjoy house guests,” Luca remarked.

“In fact,” Elena’s eyes widened. “I don’t think anyone’s stayed in his house for two months.”

“What my tactful siblings are trying to say,” Achille chimed in, arriving with a plate piled high with food, “is that he’s never brought a woman to family dinner before. So, either you're sleeping with him or you’re very important. Or both.”

I felt my blood turn cold as I turned to Achille and growled in warning. I fought the urge to loosen my collar. The room suddenly felt too warm, too crowded, and I was furious at Achille for bringing up the suggestion that we might be sleeping together.

“Achille,” I took a step toward him, to warn him off in private, but Larissa stepped right in between her. Her eyes, I noticed, were wide, and her cheeks flushed, but she smiled politely at the room.

“Giovanni's been kind enough to show me around the city,” Larissa's voice cut through the tension. “I'm just visiting, and he's been the perfect tour guide.”

The lies fell from her lips so naturally that, for a moment, even I believed them. She slid to my side, her shoulder brushing mine in solidarity.

“A tour guide,” Federico snorted. “Is that what they're calling it these days?”

Larissa's smile didn't falter. “Your brother and I are friends. Nothing more complicated than that.”

“If you say so,” he shrugged resignedly.

“Oh, stop bothering her now, will you?” Bea commented, trying to simmer down the tension.

“Yes, let’s eat, before Achille finishes it all up,” Elena said, eyeing her brother's plate warily.

Larissa giggled, and Achille shrugged, mouthing a what through a full mouth. The company broke out into corners, some going to refill plates, my sisters now teasing Achille on his appetite. I took this moment to grab Larissa by her arm and whispered to her, “Can I talk to you? Alone?”

“Of course,” Larissa gushed, picking up her glass of wine to follow me out. If eyes lingered at our movement, I didn’t care.

“They're wonderful,” Larissa said as we stepped into the hallway. “You're lucky to have such a close family.”

I didn’t acknowledge her statement as I led her toward the terrace doors overlooking the gardens. I led her to a secluded corner, away from the windows, where no one could see us.

“What's your angle?” I asked without wasting a word.

Larissa blinked, her expression shifting from relaxed to confused. “What?”

“With my family. The charm offensive. What's your game?”

Her confusion hardened into something colder. “My game,” she repeated. “You think I'm playing a game?”

“You covered for me in there. Made me sound like just a friend.”

“Would you have preferred I told them the truth? That you kept me against my will for months before deciding I wasn't actually a threat?” Her voice remained low, but the edge in it could have cut glass. “I was trying to help you, you ungrateful ass.”

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration building. “That's what I don't understand. Why help me? Why be so... real with my sisters? Why not use this opportunity to turn them against me and fight your way out?”

Larissa stared at me like I'd grown a second head. “Is that what you think of me? After all this time? That I'm just waiting for the right moment to stab you in the back?”

“It would make sense,” I insisted, even as I felt the ground crumbling beneath my argument. “I'm the enemy. Your brothers—”

“Must we bring my brothers into everything?” she snapped loudly.

“Is that how it’s always going to be, Giovanni?

Haven’t you understood that I’m not them?

” She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly looking smaller.

“Must I always think of playing a part that fits your narrative? I was just being myself, but clearly, I made a mistake.”

My throat tightened, guilt spreading through my chest. She wasn't playing a game. She'd simply been herself, and my family had responded to that authenticity in kind.

“I'm sorry,” I said, the words feeling inadequate. “I shouldn't have accused you.”

“No, you shouldn't have.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears in the dim light. “Not everything is a scheme, Giovanni. Sometimes people just... connect.”

I moved closer, drawn by the hurt in her voice. “You're right. I was wrong.”

“Again,” she added, but the corner of her mouth lifted slightly.

“Again,” I conceded, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Forgive me?”

Her eyes met mine, holding a depth I could drown in. “You keep asking for forgiveness and then doing things that need forgiving.”

“I'm trying to…be better,” I said softly.

She stepped closer, close enough for me to smell her perfume. She invaded my senses, making me feel worse for how I’d wronged her… again. “Try harder.”

I reached out for her as she shuddered with pain, my hands gently clasping her shoulders. The next thing I knew, her exhausted body leaned into mine, her face buried in my chest. When she looked up, her eyes were woeful, tired. “Is it so easy for you, Gio, to believe the worst in people?”

I struggled to find the right words, the guilt of doubting her gnawing at me.

“It's never been easy for me to trust,” I began, my voice soft. “But I’m sorry I made you the brunt of that. I’m sorry, Larissa. I truly am. I’ve just never had someone like you in my life.”

She reached up to cup my cheek gently, her touch sending a jolt of warmth through me. “Someone like me?”

I wrapped my arms around her, nuzzling my nose in her hair as I spoke. “Someone so pure. Someone who can see the good behind an act of evil. Someone who views the world in shades of grey, not just black and white.”

“You’re not evil,” she pulled back and wrapped her arms around my waist. “You’re not,” she said more insistently. “You’ve just got…”

“Trust issues?” I offered with a chuckle.

“Trust issues,” she smiled and dipped her chin, before looking back up. “But you’ve got to stop.”

“I know,” I murmured, my finger now reaching for her chin, caressing it. Larissa's gaze softened, her breath hitching as my touch lingered on her skin. The tension between us crackled in the air, stretched across our skin, drawing us closer.

Her gaze flickered down to my lips, then back up, a silent plea in her eyes. Her nearness was intoxicating, making me forget everything but her.

I needed to savor her, to feel alive in the way only she could make me feel.

I leaned down just as she reached up, and my lips teased hers, testing.

But then her fingers clenched my shirt, digging into my skin as I flicked my tongue across her lips.

She opened for me, and as I entered, I nipped her lower lip before my tongue grazed her teeth, slid over the roof of her mouth, and she moaned softly.

She thrust her hips into me, and I felt my blood and bones turn to molten lava, crawling toward my skin as every inch of me ached to feel every inch of her.

I was high. Higher than I’d ever been, all because of her.

She answered by pressing closer, her hands sliding to curl around my neck. My hands spanned her waist, feeling the warmth of her through the thin fabric of her dress. She made a small sound against my mouth, something between a sigh and a moan, and rationality began to slip away.

I backed her against the stone balustrade, my body caging hers as the kiss grew hungrier, more desperate.

Her fingers threaded through my hair, nails scraping lightly against my scalp in a way that sent electricity down my spine.

I trailed kisses along her jaw, down the column of her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips.

“Giovanni,” she breathed and the sound of my name in her voice was nearly undoing me.

Reality crashed back as I remembered where we were—on my brother's terrace, with my entire family just inside. I pulled back slightly, resting my forehead against hers as we both caught our breath.

“We should stop,” I said, the words painful to voice.

“Why?” Her eyes were dark, pupils dilated with desire. “You always do this—get me wound up and then pull away.”

I swallowed hard. “Because you deserve better than being taken against a stone railing in full view of the garden staff.”

What I didn’t say was, you’re also a virgin.

“I don’t want you to regret anything,” I added, softly.

She laughed, the sound slightly breathless. “Stop treating me like I’ll break,” her hands tightened in my shirt. “I know what I want, Giovanni. I'm twenty-five, not fifteen. The virgin thing isn't a big deal.”

My breath caught. “It is a big deal. To me.”

She studied my face, her expression softening. “Because you respect me, or because you're afraid?”

“Both,” I admitted. “I've taken enough from you already.”

“You haven't taken anything I haven't given,” she said quietly. “And I'm tired of you deciding what I can handle.”

I brushed my knuckles against her cheek, marveling at the softness of her skin and the determination in her eyes. “What do you want from me, Larissa?”

“I want you to finish what we’ve started,” she said, her voice steady despite the flush on her cheeks, “and not leave me hanging this time.”

The boldness of her request sent heat coursing through me. This was madness—she was the sister of men who would kill me if they knew I'd touched her, let alone taken her virginity. She was younger, innocent in ways I'd never been, and somehow still saw something in me worth wanting.

“Your brothers would have me gutted,” I said, a last, weak protest.

“Oh, they’re probably going to do that either way,” she said, in that sassy way of hers with a roll of her eyes. And then, she pulled me back into a searing kiss.