Chapter 30
30
GIANNA
The past few days have been blissful—the best days of my life—and today is extra, extra blissful. My toes tap against the foot of the car in glee, and I lift my head from the warm sanctuary of Michael’s shoulder to peer out the window, too restless to stay still.
“That excited?” Michael chuckles, rubbing his thumb over my fingers where my hand is still tucked possessively in the crook of his arm.
“Yes!” I practically squeal, twisting to face him. “I can’t believe you actually bought a hospital for me.” I glance down at the deed in my hand for the hundredth time, half-expecting it to vanish like some cruel mirage. How can this be real? How can everything change so drastically, so quickly?
Just two months ago, I was convinced my life was over—doomed to an existence of cleaning other people’s houses, serving drinks in seedy bars, and remaining on the run with no chance of ever settling down. And yet, here I am today, married to a billionaire who seems to love spending his money on me no matter how extravagant it is.
“Believe it, love, because it’s real.” Michael’s eyes glow down at me, burning with something so fierce, so intense, it makes my breath hitch.
Did I ever think his eyes were cold? God, I was wrong, so wrong.
They’re like twin infernos—blue flames that threaten to incinerate me with how bright and hot they glow.
I should be afraid, but I’m not. I’m drawn to that fire.
I grin at him before my gaze drops down to the deed again. Carefully, I untuck my hand from his and trace my fingertips over my name written neatly on the paper.
Gianna Tulipa Hart. That’s who I am now. Mrs. Hart. I love it.
The car dips slightly as it slows, the gentle pull of motion making me blink back to the present. My legs jiggle with barely contained excitement as we turn and pull up into a reserved parking spot in front of a four-story building.
“Maximo’s already talking with his men. They’ll start work on renovating the entire building tomorrow. By the time they’re done, it will be as good as new.”
Marco kills the engine, then steps out to give us privacy just as two cars pull up on either side of ours. But I don’t bother looking at the men inside—they’re Michael’s men, or as he likes to say now, ‘our’ men.
I’ve never been part of an ‘our’ before. And I really, really like it.
“It’s fine. It’s beautiful.” And I mean it. Not in the way new mothers insist their wrinkly, potato-skinned babies are beautiful, but in a real, genuine way. Yes, the building’s white paint is peeling and stained, some of the windows are broken, patched over with tarpaulin, and there’s no sign anywhere to indicate the name of the hospital.
But it’s mine. Mine .
Not just in thought, not just in dreams—but in name. He could have easily written his own name on the deed and simply asked me to run the place or just work there, but it’s in my name. That’s the part that’s really blowing my mind. Old building or not, it couldn’t have come cheap.
I fold the deed neatly into my purse, then turn to face my husband. “Have I thanked you?”
“You already did, but I wouldn’t mind you thanking me some more… like you did this morning,” he taunts, running a hand down my face. His fingers twitch like he wants to play with my hair, but he’s respecting my wishes to look professional today.
Although only the medical director knows the building is mine, I still want to project a polished and elegant persona to the rest of the staff. After all, I’ll be working alongside them soon as Michael’s wife, and I need their respect.
I tilt my head teasingly. “I would kiss you, but I’ll only end up smudging my lipstick all over your mouth, and cherry red isn’t quite your color.”
His eyes darken as they drop to my lips. He leans in, voice dipping into a growl. “Try me. Fucking kiss me, Gianna.”
I’m about to, already closing the distance, lids drooping—when a light knock sounds on the window. I glance out to see Lorenzo waiting, pointedly tapping his watch.
“I don’t care about keeping the schedule, kiss me ,” Michael insists.
“Well, I care.” I sit up and unlock my door. “I want to make a good first impression.”
“And you will. Anyone who doesn’t think so—or looks at you the wrong way—will lose their eyes.” My husband’s voice turns savage.
“Michael!” I half-laugh, glancing at him in disbelief, expecting to see humor dancing in his eyes, but my laughter dies when I realize— holy hell —he isn’t joking. “Baby, you can’t go around plucking my staff’s eyes out, no matter how they look at me.”
“We’ll see.” His answer is maddeningly noncommittal, though the corners of his lips twitch ever so slightly. I roll my eyes and reach for the door handle, but his hand stops me. “You’re not opening your door yourself. Hold on.”
He gets out on his side, and I take a moment to admire the way his tall, lithe frame moves as he rounds the hood of the car. Damn. The man looks absolutely mouthwatering.
“What a gentleman,” I murmur softly as he helps me out. “Thank you.”
“Always.” He winks, placing a possessive hand on the small of my back.
His men form a protective formation behind us, and as we approach the hospital entrance, all trace of playfulness vanishes from Michael’s face, his eyes scanning the perimeter with a sharp, hawkish intensity.
Inside, Pete Langhorne, the hospital director, is already waiting for us in the lobby. Alone. I exhale quietly in relief. I had expected a full staff introduction today and had been battling nerves all morning.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hart, welcome to Loretto Hospital.” Pete’s smile starts strained, then suddenly stretches unnaturally wide. A sidelong glance confirms my suspicion: Michael is impaling the poor man with his stare.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“It’s our pleasure to be here. You have a charming building.” I step forward, deliberately drawing his attention away from my intimidating husband towards me instead.
His shoulders relax a fraction. “I know it’s worse for the wear, but it’s our hospital. I hope you like it.”
“Oh, I do,” I assure him earnestly.
Michael doesn’t waste time. After a few pleasantries, he orders the man to give us a full tour.
The moment Pete's back is to us, I pinch Michael’s arm lightly. “Stop being mean to him,” I whisper.
He looks at me with genuine surprise. “I’m not being mean. This is how I interact with people.”
Now it’s my turn to be surprised. “Seriously?”
He nods, completely unbothered.
I frown, searching my memory. Was he ever like that with me?
…If he was, I can’t recall it now. But the realization that I experience a different Michael than the rest of the world sends a secret thrill through me.
The tour begins, and it doesn’t take long for Pete to figure out that I’m the nicer one. He directs most of his explanations to me, looking at me every now and then for approval. I nod accordingly, giving him appropriate responses as we navigate all four floors.
Each of the floors is shared by two separate departments.
The ground floor houses the Emergency Wing (right) and the Pediatrics Center (left).
The first floor has General Medicine on the one side and the Pharmacy Department on the other.
The second floor is split between OB/GYN and the Maternity Ward.
The third floor is reserved for the ICU and Cancer Department.
The top floor serves as the executive level, where non-medical staff offices are located, including the director’s.
Once we reach Pete’s office, he sort of just hovers behind us as we walk in. “What do you think ma’am?”
I turn to him with a warm smile. “I think it’s all wonderful. I can’t wait to start working here. And please, call me Gia.” It would be weird to have the medical director addressing me formally when he’ll technically be my superior.
Before he can respond, Michael waves him off. “Leave us alone, Peter.”
Pete visibly gulps, and I jump in quickly to soften the blow. “My husband and I need to have a private discussion, and we’d appreciate using your office for a moment—if you don’t mind.”
The man nods—probably grateful to escape—and hurries out.
As soon as the door clicks shut, I whirl on Michael, crossing my arms. “I know you know his name is Pete, Michael.”
He shrugs with magnificent indifference, settling into the director’s chair like a king on his throne. “I don’t care enough to call him his correct name.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re adorable when you’re pissed at me, but I didn’t send him away just to talk about him. I have more pressing matters at hand.”
I scoff. “And what pressing matters would those be, huh?”
He leans back and beckons me over with a single crooked finger.
Like a moth drawn to a flame, I’m unable to resist walking towards him, even though I mouth off at him the whole way. “When we see him again, you’re going to call him by his actual name. And for the love of God, stop scaring the poor man.”
Michael’s lips curve slightly. “It’s not my fault he’s a little coward.” Spinning the chair around, he parts his legs, waiting for me to step between them. The second I do, his arm snakes around my waist, pulling me in. “Now, I haven’t been feeling too well, nurse Gianna. I need you to take care of me.”
I stare at him, fighting hard to swallow my smile. “Oh, have you now? I don’t know, patient… I don’t have my license yet. Shouldn’t you call someone with more experience? I can get my boss if you’d like. He’s very good at his job.”
His eyes turn to little blue slits as he narrows his gaze on me. “That’s unnecessary. What I need treated falls well within your expertise.” He exerts pressure on my waist, and I tumble into his arms.
I pretend to consider. “Well, if you insist… I suppose there’s no harm in trying to help you. After all, you’ve been very good to me these past few days. What exactly did you say you have again?”
“An acute case of blue balls–” He breaks off when I burst out laughing. “Now, is that professional behavior? Laughing at your patient?”
“No, sorry,” I giggle, shaking my head. “It’s just… I’m afraid your condition can’t be that acute, as I happen to know firsthand your wife already helped you out with that particular problem just this morning. So unless something’s terribly wrong, I highly doubt you’re suffering from epididymal hypertension.”
“She did,” he agrees, his fingers tracing maddening patterns on my hip. “But she’s so devastatingly gorgeous that I never get enough. As soon as I come down from an orgasm, my cock goes semi-erect in anticipation of our next interaction. It’s a vicious, unending cycle.”
We’re playing, but his words get to my head, making me dizzy and hot. I lean down and kiss him lightly. “That sounds painful. I suppose I could put you out of your misery.”
“Yes, you certainly can.” Michael doesn’t wait for me to take charge—he deepens the kiss, taking my tongue into his mouth to suck, and I groan, clutching the back of his neck. His hand travels up my spine, and I shiver as he smoothly lowers the zipper of my dress.
I chose this dress for a reason. I wanted to project femininity and elegance today, sure, but I also liked the way the pretty navy blue color matched his eyes. And now, Michael is peeling it off me like it’s his personal gift to unwrap.
I shift back, breaking our kiss to yank his shirt open, desperate to feel the solid heat of his chest.
He suckles my neck as I work the buttons. I’ve done this so many times now, I could probably strip him blindfolded—I’ve got his shirt off in seconds, just as he tugs my dress over my head.
I lean into his bare chest, dragging my teeth across his nipple piercing, and he groans, low and guttural. His hands sink into my hair, his cock growing more insistent beneath me.
“You know,” I murmur against his skin, “I think I have the same condition as you. My husband is so insanely gorgeous, it drives me crazy every time he goes to work, knowing other women will see him.”
Impossibly, my words make his cock go even harder, the hard length twitching beneath me. He likes that. “Really? Tell me more.”
“Well… he has these breathtaking ocean-blue eyes that shift shades like mercury depending on his mood. I love every shade, but I especially love when they turn dark blue because it means he wants me and can’t wait to have me. Just like they’re turning now.”
“Gianna, love—” He cuts himself off with a kiss, palm covering my breast.
Then, suddenly, the room spins dizzily. Only when he’s pushing my back against the sturdy wooden desk do I realize he’s rotated the chair.
He leans over me, holding my gaze as he nibbles the underside of my breasts, expertly undoing my bra with one hand. The garment falls weightlessly from my chest, and then his mouth is closing over a nipple, his teeth grazing and teasing the hardened flesh until my panties are soaked and I’m moaning, writhing beneath him.
He sucks and licks, first one breast, then the other, over and over, while one hand toys with my clit through my panties.
Sweat beads on my forehead and trickles down my spine as I pant for air. “Michael, please.”
My hands slip between us to tug uncoordinatedly at his belt, but he pulls back, watching me struggle with a satisfied gleam in his eye.
“Needy little thing.”
I glare. “Shut up and help me.”
He chuckles, but obliges, helping me unbuckle his belt and undo his pants. He shifts just enough to drag them down his hips, and I wait in anticipation for him to take off his underwear too—but he makes no moves to do so.
“ Michael, ” I whine, frustration clawing at me.
“You want my cock? Then take it out with your own hands, Gianna,” he says coolly.
And so, with hands shaking from sheer need—like a junkie unwrapping her next hit—I slip my fingers into his underwear and free his massive erection. Christ. He’s turned me into a full-blown sex addict, and I no longer have the will or desire to deny it.
Biting my bottom lip, I stroke him, my thumb rolling over his beautiful piercing, and my core clenches at the memory of just how wickedly good that metal feels inside me. I try to tease him like he always teases me, but I’m nowhere near as patient and collected as he is. Within seconds, I’m shifting my panties to the side at the crotch and positioning him against my entrance.
I moan, drool pooling in my mouth as I glide his wide head through my folds, shivering when the cool metal barbell kisses my clit. I do it again. And again. And again. My core gushing wetness as it contracts each time.
Fuck. I could come like this.
“Get on my fucking cock already, Gia,” Michael growls, his composure finally cracking as he wraps his arm around my back, lifting me effortlessly until I’m straddling him.
Chest heaving, I lick my lips and brace one hand on his tattooed shoulder while guiding him inside me with the other.
It’s our first time in this position—face-to-face, with me on top—and he feels impossibly huge. I clench my teeth, gripping his shoulder harder as I slowly work him into my sex, trying to take him deeper, sweat dripping down my spine.
“Fuck, you’re so big… so biggg— ” My head falls back on a low drawn-out moan as he keeps stretching me, filling me, pushing deeper than I thought possible.
“You’re doing good, baby girl. Taking me so well.” His voice is a husky drawl, thick with praise. “That’s it, love… yessss.” He grabs my hip tightly as I finally take him to the hilt, our pelvises kissing. He presses his forehead against mine, lips seeking mine.
And then he kisses me.
Deeply. Hungrily. Like he hasn’t kissed me in months. Like he didn’t fuck me senseless just this morning. Like he’s been starving for me for years.
And I drink it all in greedily, moaning against his lips, stuffed so full with him I can feel him everywhere.
When he breaks the kiss, I’m gasping for air, but he doesn’t even give me a second to recover before he begins moving me on his cock. My hands reach out blindly behind me, slapping against the edge of the desk for support as I ride him slowly, a tsunami of pleasure barreling through me.
His hands roam my body languidly, tracing every inch like he has all the time in the world. He cups my tits, using his thumb to play with my already oversensitive nipples, then slides down my belly, dipping into my navel seductively, thrusting in and out in the same rhythm as his cock.
Then he goes lower.
Oh.
I jolt, sucking in a sharp breath as his fingers circle over my clit, stoking my pleasure higher and higher with each precise stroke until I’m delirious, lost in sensation.
I grind down harder, trying to move faster on him—my climax is soooo close—but his hand clamps around my waist, holding me steady. I moan, long and desperate, pleasure mixing with frustration and a tiny bit of pain from how he’s drawing it out.
“Michael, please?—"
Then he presses down on my clit, and it’s like triggering a detonator. My head snaps back so violently, my neck protests as I explode, screaming his name while sweet tears stream down my cheeks.
Michael snarls against my skin, and his rhythm turns wild, his pace breaking from steady control into raw, erratic thrusts.
And somehow, knowing he’s about to climax sends another surge of pleasure soaring through me.
Then he’s cumming, his balls slapping against my ass as his cock pulses inside me.
His hot semen triggers aftershocks that ripple through me, and I convulse around him, our cries of pleasure mixing.
Finally spent, I collapse against his shoulder, my heart racing a mile a minute, body hot and slick with sweat.
With a blissful sigh, I place my palm on his chest, loving the way his heart matches the frantic staccato of mine.