Chapter 15 Giulia
GIULIA
Forget seeing the girls before class this morning. I can’t face them. They’re going to know right away that something is wrong. That’s why I texted them from the car and told them I wasn’t feeling great.
That was the truth. I feel like hell today. Between hardly sleeping and whatever the hell that was in the car, all I want is to curl up in a ball somewhere and cry as I navigate the crowded sidewalk.
He doesn’t get it. I should have known. What does he care about what my family thinks? Or anybody, come to think of it? If he did, if he ever gave a single damn, his life would have gone differently. He would’ve made better choices instead of hurting everybody who ever came into contact with him.
And he said he would never hurt me. What a joke. The real joke is the way I believed him because I wanted to. And now he acts like I’m the one with a problem when I’m scared my family will never speak to me again if they find out what I did last night, while they were finishing their dinner.
What if this was his plan all along? Oh, great, like I need that thought right now, as I duck into the ladies’ room closest to the front door of the building where my first class is held.
There are already fresh, hot tears in my eyes by the time I reach the sinks running along one wall, where a couple of girls touch up their makeup and hair at the far end.
They both look sympathetic when they notice me, but they give me space.
That’s the right move. If anybody said a word to me that sounded even slightly kind or curious, I might break down sobbing.
I’m too fragile right now, on edge. The slightest nudge, and I’ll shatter like a snow globe hitting a hardwood floor.
I can barely look at my own reflection. The shame is too much.
What if this was all a lie from the beginning?
The longer I sit with the thought, the clearer and more painful it gets.
And the more obvious. Was he sleeping with me to get back at my family somehow?
He can’t gather his men to attack us anymore, since that power was stripped away when his dad basically disowned him.
So what does he do? He uses me as a weapon and gets his rocks off in the process. It’s a win-win. So what if I end up getting chewed up and spit out in the process?
My reflection blurs once the tears start to flow. I wipe them away angrily, disgusted with myself for letting him get to me like this. I made it so easy.
And he was so nice. He looked after me, took care of me, and covered for me.
He was gentle too. I don’t have much firsthand experience with guys, but I know enough to know he could have made my first time painful and awkward.
It was anything but. He has never forced me into anything.
Not even last night, even though I tried to accuse him this morning of setting me up. He never forced me.
I don’t know what to think. I only know I have to pull myself together, blinking back what’s left of the emotion that wants to leak from my eyes.
It’s kind of a good thing I was too tired and worried to bother with makeup this morning, since it would be running down my face now.
All I have to do is splash my cheeks to wash away the tears.
Wouldn’t it be nice if I could wash Alessandro away so easily?
When I walk into Sociology, Olivia flags me down. Waving me over frantically, she pats the chair next to hers in the lecture hall. “Are you okay?” she whispers once I drop into the seat, wishing class already started so I’d have a reason to keep silent.
“Yeah, I just couldn’t meet up with you guys this morning. That’s all.” I keep my head down, pulling out my laptop to take notes. Anything so long as she doesn’t look at my face, because I’m sure everything I’m feeling is written across it.
“No offense, but you look like hell,” she kindly informs me.
“Thanks.” I try to laugh, but it comes off strained and hollow. “I feel so confident now.”
“I’m just saying. Is everything all right with you?” For once, there’s no joking, no hinting at a late night spent partying or anything like that. She knows better, anyway, even if there is plenty about me she doesn’t know.
It’s a relief when class starts, and I don’t have to answer questions for a little while.
Still, all I’m doing is exchanging one problem for another, because now I can’t concentrate on anything but how much I wish that whole conversation had gone differently.
Now that the anger has faded, all that’s left is regret.
I said some things I shouldn’t have, and I definitely could have been kinder than I was.
Accusing him, being nasty, lashing out—it was all out of fear of losing my family’s love and respect, which is a considerable price to pay, but I was in this just as much as he was.
Every step I took, I took knowing the potential risks.
And I went ahead with my eyes wide open.
Should I text him? It doesn’t take long to rule out the idea. There’s too much room for misunderstanding in a text. If you can’t hear a person’s voice, you can misconstrue things. Too much has already been misconstrued.
The second class is over, and I know what I have to do.
“I’ll be back for lunch,” I promise Olivia, cramming my things into my bag, pulling out my phone to get an Uber.
The staff at the front desk of Alessandro’s building have seen me enough in the past couple of weeks that it won’t surprise them when I show up.
I only hope he’s there instead of, like, walking around or getting himself in trouble somewhere.
I really hope that’s not what he’s doing. I’m probably overthinking it. The fight couldn’t mean as much to him as it did to me. I mean, he seemed upset, but I can’t imagine his emotions are running as high as mine. I guess I’ll find out.
My nerves are shredded by the time my driver drops me off at the familiar corner.
Is this a mistake? Am I going to wish I had stayed at school?
I might as well find out, right? Somehow, I manage to fake confidence while crossing the art deco-inspired lobby, then step into the elevator and press the button for Alessandro’s floor.
What if he doesn’t want to see me?
What if he’s not even here?
Please, don’t tell me to get the hell out. That’s how low the bar is as I ring his doorbell, holding my breath. Hoping. The sound of his footsteps inside comes as a relief. At least this isn’t a complete waste of time.
But my heart seizes in fear when he opens the door, just the same. He’s scowling when he does, almost like he was expecting me. There’s no surprise visible on his face.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, since that’s the only thing that comes to mind. I need him to know that.
“For what?” he asks. If anything, his scowl deepens.
At first, my stupid ass thinks he’s telling me I have nothing to be sorry for.
I’m that hard-up. That’s how much I need his forgiveness.
When I realize what he’s really asking, my face flushes with embarrassment.
“For making you feel small and treating you like you don’t matter.
You do matter. And I know this is risky for you too.
I’m sorry if it came across as if I don’t care. I do care.”
He keeps me waiting for what feels like an eternity, but is probably around five seconds, before taking me by the waist with both hands and pulling me to him.
Our bodies crash together. My heart barely has the chance to swell with joy before his mouth is on mine, and he’s kicking the door shut, then pushing me up against it so he can take off my clothes while kissing me hard.
This is different. The same heat is there, the same desire that goes from zero to sixty in the time it takes to blink an eye, but there’s an intensity running underneath every touch, grope, caress.
All of a sudden, I’m wet and moaning into his mouth, feeling more powerless than ever against the force of what’s happening between us—the urgency, almost desperation.
I feel it in him, and soon I feel it in myself.
Like I need to have all of him on all of me as quickly as possible and for as long as possible.
The touch of his hands to my skin is heaven, like a gift when I was so afraid he wouldn’t want to see me, much less do this. “Bedroom,” I moan between kisses, fumbling with his belt, unzipping his slacks.
“Right here.” He steers me toward the sofa in the living room, not far from the windows overlooking the street on two sides. There’s no time to wonder if this is right or wrong when my body is on fire. I’m dripping, and I need to have him inside me. I need to feel him and hear him lose himself.
The backs of my legs hit the sofa, and I tumble backward with a breathless laugh that’s cut off when he leans over me and kisses me again and again, making me forget my own name by the time he’s finished. It’s that good, that consuming.
Together we get rid of my T-shirt, and he descends on my boobs, lowering my bra cups so he can take my nipples in his mouth.
Back and forth he goes while I roll my hips, grinding against him.
It feels so good. So right. The heat, the tension, it’s exhilarating.
Mind-blowing. “Just like that,” I moan when he sucks harder, arching my back, giving myself to him because I know how good this is going to be. It always is.
God, the sounds he makes. Like he’s starving for me, growling like a beast. One of his hands slides between my thighs and cups my pussy, rubbing in circles, massaging my clit through my thong. It’s electric, and all I can do is whimper my approval.
“Roll over,” he grunts, getting up all of a sudden, stripping off his black polo and lowering his pants in one quick motion.
While I’m getting up and kneeling for him, he reaches into his wallet and pulls out a condom, then tosses everything aside to unroll it down his rigid dick.
The sight of it makes my heart skip a beat, and I would swear my pussy is wetter than ever by the time I turn my back to him.
His hands. They’re everywhere, running up my legs from my ankles to my ass cheeks before delivering a sharp slap. “I should take your ass here and now for starting shit with me today.” His wide head parts my lips, running through my slit, making me push back against him when the hunger is too much.
I look at him over my shoulder, panting hard.
He narrows his eyes, gleaming with desire that makes my breath come even faster.
“But I was wrong too,” he admits, taking himself in one hand and using the other to hold my hips in place before he impales me with one quick, deep stroke that rocks me forward against the cushions.
I brace myself against the back of the couch, holding on tight.
“Fuck me,” I plead, and my soul sings when he takes me by the hips and pulls me against him to match every stroke.
Something wild explodes inside me, making me grunt and growl as he does, a little louder every time our bodies crash together, and the heat builds.
He is almost brutal, moving fast, using me, fucking me.
I love it. Every second of it.
“Fuck me harder,” I moan, wishing it would never end.
The tingling all through my body, and his animalistic grunts, consume me.
I take everything in me, everything I’ve ever held back, every disappointment, every ounce of yearning, and I give it to him.
I let it all out now, shouting it out until the room is filled with the sound of release even before I come.
And then I do before I know what’s happening. The intense heat in my core explodes, shattering me in the best way. “Yes! Oh, God! I’m coming.” Not like I need to tell him. Not like he can’t feel it.
“Giulia… Gules baby, yes. Fuck!” He pulls me back against him one more time before roaring loud enough to make my ears ring. I feel him swelling in me before he lets go, and it’s all so good. Finally, it feels like things are right again.
I’m completely drained by the time he pulls back, so I can sag against the cushions in a breathless heap. Once he gets rid of the condom, he comes back to where I’m trying to recover, spreading a throw blanket next to me so I can sit without ruining anything.
Then he drops down at my side, closing his eyes and releasing a deep breath. “I needed that.”
“I think we both did,” I admit.
He opens one eye to look at me. “It did seem like you enjoyed it.”
“That’s one way you could describe it.” I honestly can’t believe we are here like this after what happened this morning. So that’s what make-up sex is all about. Now I understand what the big deal is. It’s almost enough to make me consider fighting at least once a week.
But no, because the pain of fighting with him is something I can’t forget that easily. “I really am sorry about earlier.” I reach out to run a hand through his dark hair, brushing it off his forehead.
“I could’ve taken you seriously and listened a little better,” he admits. “You’re scared, and it makes sense.”
“But I don’t want to give this up.” God, no, especially not after what we just did. I’m supposed to go the rest of my life without feeling that kind of abandon? No, thank you.
“We’ll be more careful.” When he reaches out and cups my cheek, closing my eyes and leaning into his touch is the sweetest, most natural thing ever.
This is where I want to be. It terrifies me, the way he makes me feel and the way he makes me feel about myself.
But I’m still here. That has to mean something.
“So long as you don’t hate me,” I whisper before my throat goes tight.
“I don’t hate you, Giulia. Granted…” he adds with a rueful chuckle, “… there have been times I hate what you do to me. I don’t know what it is, but you make a man take risks.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“I’m not sure, to tell you the truth.” He’s grinning when he leans in to kiss me, and I accept it gratefully.
The touch of his lips says more than words ever could.