25. Ginevra
25
GINEVRA
T he car ride home stretches in silence, thick with unspoken words. Soft music plays from the speakers, yet it does nothing to calm my racing heart. My throat feels heavy with unspoken words, and I struggle to control my heavy breathing.
My fingers press a button on the window, making the tinted glass slide down. A gentle breeze blows over my face as the car drives down the familiar road, but it does nothing to make me feel better.
We both sit silently at the backseat of Dario’s Lamborghini, and I can feel the heat of Dario’s anger simmering beside me, still charged from what happened at the boutique. It’s not directed at me, but it still makes my stomach churn with anxiety...
And something else.
There’s a strange comfort in knowing he’s upset on my behalf. I can’t quite grasp why that makes my heart flutter, but it does.
Dario hasn’t said a word for several minutes, only shifting his attention between his phone screen and the bottle of water in the cup holder beside him. My fingers twitch on my lap as I look outside, trying to ignore his presence beside me.
The tall buildings and bustling city streets blur past the car window as we drive past them, the mid-afternoon sun casting long shadows across the road.
But after a long minute, I steal a glance at him. His jaw is set tight, and his eyes are now fixed on the road. Part of me wants to thank him, to say something...anything, but the words are stuck in my throat. We sit in the silence that is wrapped around us like a heavy cloak, heavy and awkward.
I look outside the window again as we approach the familiar, quiet, luxurious neighborhood of Dario’s house. When we get married, it’ll become my house, too, whether I like it or not. When I think of home, his large duplex is what will appear in my head.
The almost identical houses, large and extravagant, with their immaculately groomed lawns, blur past my eyes. The car slows down as we approach the gates of Dario’s house. Most houses here don’t have gates, but it doesn’t shock me that Dario is private to that degree.
The gates are opened by the security guards, and we slowly pull in. When we finally pull into the driveway, the air feels electric, charged with awkwardness and a mix of something new and uncertain.
The car engine stops, and I push the car door open almost immediately. The bright sun hits my skin as I step down and head toward the front door with Dario’s heavy footsteps behind me.
The tension floats in the air between us. I climb up the stairs with him right on my tail. I feel the heat of his stare warming my body, and a strong sense of Deja vu hits me. When I get to my bedroom door, I notice he’s stopped and is now watching me.
I don’t turn to look at him, scared of what I’ll do if I saw his face.
“Um...I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah. Later.” I hear his gruff response behind me as I twist the doorknob and enter the walls of my room, the only place I’m safe from his heated looks and the intensity of his presence.
But not safe from thoughts of him. I’m never safe from that.
It’s a weekend, and Rosa had told me earlier that Dario was taking this particular weekend off. It’s not supposed to be a strange thing, but Dario works every single day. It’s something I hope will change as time goes on.
Once inside my room, I feel an overwhelming urge to cool down. I head toward the bathroom and turn on the shower knob, letting the water warm up while I strip off my clothes.
The steam fills the bathroom, wrapping around me like a comforting cocoon. Except it’s not comforting. It reminds me of every heated touch and kiss I’ve shared with Dario.
As I stand under the cascading water, I let my thoughts drift. I replay Dario’s rage as he defended me earlier, how his voice had practically vibrated with anger when he confronted Camille.
There’s something intoxicating about knowing he cares so fiercely, even if our situation is complicated. Something runs down my spine at his unabashed protectiveness, at the passion in his voice. It makes my stomach flip and warmth flood through me. My heartbeat quickens.
I scrub my scalp a little too harshly as I wash my hair, the scent of shampoo mixing with the steam. Thoughts of him continue to race through my head, and the feeling of heat floods through my body.
I switch the shower to cold, and a certain restlessness fills me as the water slides down my skin. When I’m completely rinsed off, I grab my towel and slowly dry off my hair and body. With slightly shaky hands, I wrap the towel around my chest before stepping out of the shower.
I catch my reflection in the mirror as I walk past. It shows the aftermath of the day—red cheeks from the heat of the water, eyes still wide with lingering excitement.
When I get to my bedroom, I change into a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top. I decide to try and take a nap, hoping to escape the whirlwind of emotions swirling in my mind. With the towel still wrapped around my head, I crawl into bed, pulling the covers around me, but sleep doesn’t come. Instead, I toss and turn, my mind racing with thoughts of Dario. The way he looked at me, the tension in the air when we were close...all the times he’s touched me, kissed me...
A groan escapes my lips as I sit up and tug the wet towel from my head before flinging it across the room in frustration. I try to push all thoughts of him away, but his warmth lingers like a ghost in the room.
I should have said something to him. I should have thanked him for defending me. Rosa’s words filter back into my head, and I remember my resolve to be nicer to him. Not thanking someone for defending you and buying out an entire store for you isn’t nice, now is it?
After what feels like an eternity, I finally gather the courage to get up. My heart beats faster as I approach my bedroom door, each step filled with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. Maybe I should just go back and force myself to sleep. But I’m already twisting the doorknob and pulling it open.
A breath gets caught in my throat as I find Dario standing behind the door, his hand poised to knock. For a moment, we just stand there staring at each other, the air around us thickening. The tension between us isn’t awkward anymore... It’s electric, chilling even.
His raw gaze pierces into mine, and I can barely breathe. The rational part of me, the one that remembers that Dario is supposed to be my enemy, screams at me to run away, to run as far and as fast as I possibly can from him. But the wild, carnal side that resides deep within my soul screams at me to move forward, to reach for him.
The moment stretches, the air heavy with unspoken words and pent-up desire. I watch Dario’s eyes darken as they drink me in, trailing from my face down to my chest and to my exposed legs. My body burns, feeling completely naked under his gaze.
I take him in, too, from his dark, tousled hair to the casual white shirt and faded jeans he’s changed into. My throat runs dry at the way his muscles ripple beneath his shirt, reminding me of what else lies underneath.
Then, as if something snaps, we both move simultaneously. One second, he’s watching me with heated eyes, the next, he has grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his arms, pressing me against his hard chest and locking his lips to mine.
My lips part beneath his, and the sound he lets out is rough and demanding, sending sparks flying through me.
The weight of everything—the anger, the desire, the unspoken feelings—crashes down on us. My fingers grasp the front of his shirt as his tongue plunges into my mouth. His hands circle my neck, his fingers lifting my chin and tilting my head to kiss me harder with more hunger.
A moan rips out of my throat as one hand slides down my neck to my breast, squeezing it roughly and cupping the soft flesh through the thin fabric of my shirt. My fingers travel to his hair, tugging on the strands as he pushes me against the open doorframe.
“Dario,” I moan as his thumb slips under the fabric of my top through my armpit and caresses the exposed side of my breast.
“Please...”
He groans in reply before lowering his lips to my chest, down the valley between my breasts, and sucking gently. He makes a low sound that is muffled against my skin as his two hands slide under my tank top to grab my waist. The rough texture of his fingertips against my bare stomach sends waves of pleasure throughout my body.
He takes one clothed nipple between his teeth, biting softly. My breath hitches as I close my eyes, feeling the wetness of his tongue through the thin fabric. But I want more.
Grabbing his head, I kiss him again, sliding one hand over his crotch to squeeze.
“Oh, Ginny,” he growls, his voice a low, rough hiss against my lips.
My fingers trace a slow, teasing path up over the waistband of his pants, skimming past his navel before sliding over the firm ridges of his abs. I pull his bottom lip between my teeth, nibbling and flicking my tongue against it, savoring the warmth of him until a deep, guttural groan escapes his throat, and he jerks away, eyes dark and hungry.
We’re both panting, our breath mingling in the heated space between us as I meet his gaze—intense, smoldering with barely restrained desire.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my lips brushing his, the words trembling on the edge of them.
His hand trails down, possessive and deliberate, until it grips one cheek of my ass, squeezing firmly. His mouth curves into a wicked smile. “I haven’t even given you a real reason to thank me yet, Princess,” he murmurs, his voice full of promise. “But by the time I’m finished with you…you’ll have one.”