Chapter 13 #2
“We’re pretending to date, actually. For one week.
” I release a long exhale. “It’s just… I’m not making any progress with my own line or even with my short-term career goals.
I feel stuck. You know how I hate relying on other people, but Giovanni offered his tailoring services for my debut line at no cost. Obviously, it’s impossible to pass up.
But, in exchange for the services, I have to help placate his parents.
They’ve been worried he’s miserable in New York, and he’s been lying to them, and…
It’s just a hard pill to swallow, because I wish I didn’t have to owe someone just to successfully bring my own designs to life.
Between Lamont, Giovanni, and…” I hesitate, thinking of my father, but not really wanting to get into all of that with Esme.
“And other people, I feel like they take what they need and then dismiss me.”
“Ah, so that’s why we’re hiding in this bathroom.”
“Yeah. I guess reality hit me. The end of the pinnacle of my career so far. The uncertainty clouding my future. The nerves surrounding him.”
Esme nods. “Here’s what I think. It’s normal to have all of those feelings. Your crash-out is completely valid. But it sounds like the long-term impact this could have on your career is a great thing. I think it’s a smart choice, honestly.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’ll be fine, Tess. It’s only a week of pretending.”
She makes it sound so easy. Maybe Esme’s right, and I’m overthinking this. I hold out my arms. “I think I’m ready for that hug now.”
Esme wraps me up in her arms, somehow lifting my six-feet-tall body a few inches off the ground. My feet dangle, and it feels kind of nice to be held as a tall—
Her knees buckle and she drops me, causing me to tumble to the tile. She starts cracking up as I mentally add the incoming bruise on my ass to the ongoing tally of wounds I’ve acquired in Italy.
Her cackles are interrupted by loud knocking on the bathroom door.
“Tèssa? Are you okay? I saw you go in there, and you looked upset, and I just heard a big noise…”
Dear Lord.
“Damn, why is he shouting?” Esme asks, placing one of her hands over her ears.
The corners of my lips tick up. “This is, like, a normal volume for him. I actually think he’s trying to be subtle.”
His voice comes clearer through the door now, almost like he positioned his lips right outside the narrow crack to the side of the knob.
“Is it the size of the small space? Answer me,” he orders.
“Yeah, I’m going to need you to comply with his demands. That man sounds one minute away from calling the police. I can’t go to an Italian prison. I don’t have the time.” Esme stands up and dusts herself off before reaching down and pulling me up.
I unlock the door and side-step to give Giovanni some room.
As soon as it makes a click sound, he flings it open, almost smacking Esme in the face.
He scans my body as if he’ll find visible injuries.
Once he’s seemingly satisfied that all my extremities are intact, he shoves both of his hands in his pockets.
The concern in his eyes feels real, and it has the same effect it did yesterday in the elevator. The tension starts to uncurl, sliding off me in waves under his gaze.
“So, I’m gonna get outta here. But see you at the club tonight!” Esme squeaks, appearing from behind the door before walking out of the bathroom.
The worry leaves Giovanni’s face entirely, and amusement takes over. He raises an eyebrow. “The club, hm? Am I invited?”
I can’t tell if he’s messing with me, because obviously he’s invited. Lamont’s assistant planned a celebratory night out, and she adores Giovanni. Everyone seems to adore Giovanni.
I tilt my head. “What, you didn’t get the memo?”
“Oh, I know about the club. But I thought my girlfriend would at least ask me to ride over with her.”
Girlfriend. I cough, suddenly hit with the urge to turn around and splash cool water on my face. His eyes spark with delight, as they always do when he gets me worked up like this.
“First of all, I technically don’t clock in as your pretend girlfriend until midnight.”
Giovanni scoffs. “Okay, Rapunzel.”
I suck in an exasperated breath. “It’s Cinderella.”
He pats his pocket, looking for something, but comes up short. Throwing his hands in the air, Giovanni sighs. “Same thing. Just remember, we have to leave for Brescia early tomorrow morning.”
Italy Giovanni is doing a great impression of New York Giovanni. It’s almost nostalgic, him getting all frustrated again. I find myself relaxing into our normal state of bickering.
I roll my eyes. “If you’re worried about me being late, you don’t have to be. Runners are basically human roosters. I wake the sun up.”
A sly smile grows on his face, and we merely blink at each other for a few moments.
“Enjoy your night, Tessa,” he says in a low voice.
“I plan on it.” My eyes narrow with suspicion, but I glue on a fake smile regardless as he pivots and walks out.
As soon as he’s gone, I feel the tension start to snake its way back up my spine, my muscles going taut. It mystifies me how the man I’ve come to dislike serves as a balm for my frayed nerves lately.
I give my head a little shake and remind myself that I don’t need a man to feel secure.
But as I stride out the door and round the corner, I catch a glimpse of Giovanni talking with a crew member, and I have to fight the sudden, unexplainable desire to ask him to ride with me to the club.