Last night after our kiss, I’d returned to the party to drink myself into a stupor when I’d come across my bastard of a father and Rocco Scuderi, talking about Gianna and his plans for her to marry some old geezer who was known for his hard hand with women. I hadn’t said anything then because I knew Father. If he thought I wanted Gianna because I desired her, liked her or wanted to protect her from a worse fate, he’d never agree to set me up with her.
