Chapter 4 – Siena #2
Giovanni gives the smallest nod, his expression unreadable, then stubs out his cigarette. “Good. That’s all I needed to hear.” His voice drops to a growl. “Now get the fuck out.”
Anthony’s gaze flicks to me one last time. Apologetic? Curious? I can’t tell. He mutters something under his breath and shuts the door quickly behind him, leaving me and Giovanni in a haze of silence thick enough to choke on.
I grip his shirt tighter against me. “What was that about?”
He finally looks at me, and damn him, he smirks like nothing just happened. Like my heart isn’t racing with suspicion. “Business. Nothing you need to worry about, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. The word is a knife wrapped in velvet. I should hate it, but instead it makes my chest ache.
I take a shaky breath. “I’ll just wait here for my dad. He can’t be much longer.”
Something dark and sharp flashes across Giovanni’s face, but it’s gone before I can place it.
He sets his glass down and steps closer, his presence overwhelming.
“Let me make a call.” He grabs his phone and presses it to his ear.
He speaks quietly, but enough that I hear my father’s name.
He hangs up and looks at me with no expression on his face. “He already left.”
Of course, he’d abandon me. Again.
Still, I narrow my eyes. “He wouldn’t just leave me here.”
Giovanni brushes his knuckles down my arm, sending a shiver straight through me. “You don’t deserve to be left standing around like some afterthought, Siena. Let me take you home.”
My heart twists. Part of me screams not to trust him. Not to let myself get pulled deeper into whatever shadows swirl around this man and his family. But the way he says my name and the way his gaze pins me like I’m the only thing in the room that matters has me teetering on the edge of surrender.
I finally nod, though every part of me screams that it’s a mistake. “Fine. Take me home.”
The smile he gives me isn’t smug, though it should be. It’s softer. Relieved, almost. And that’s what unnerves me most. Giovanni DeLuca shouldn’t look like he cares. Not about me.
He doesn’t rush me. Just waits while I slip his shirt over my head, buttoning it as best I can.
It’s far too big, hanging down to mid-thigh, but at least I don’t feel so exposed.
He pulls his pants back on and slips on the vest he was wearing.
He picks up his jacket but he doesn’t put it on, he drapes it over my shoulders.
Warmth, masculine and woodsy, envelopes me instantly, and I hate the way my body melts into it.
The walk through the casino is a blur. The music, the laughter, the lights all fade against the heavy weight of Giovanni’s hand at the small of my back. It’s guiding, commanding. Protective. Possessive. And I hate that I don’t shrug it off.
Outside, the cool October air smacks me in the face, sobering me. A sleek black car waits at the curb. Of course it does. Giovanni opens the door and gestures for me to get in like he’s some kind of gentleman, but I see the devil in his grin. Always lurking. Always hungry.
I slide into the leather seat and fold my arms, trying to keep some distance. He slips behind the wheel, the faint glow of the dashboard lighting up the sharp angles of his face.
“Seatbelt,” he orders, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.
I arch a brow. “Do you always boss women around?”
He smirks, pulling onto the street. “Only when I want to keep them alive.”
The response shouldn’t send heat crawling up my neck, but it does. I fumble with the buckle, more flustered than I want to admit.
The city rushes past, neon signs and streetlights blurring together. My pulse won’t slow, and it’s not just from the lingering intimacy between us. My doubts gnaw at me.
“You lied, didn’t you?” I whisper, staring out the window.
His knuckles tighten on the wheel, but his voice is calm. “About what?”
“My dad. You said he left, but that doesn’t sound like him. For all his faults, and there are plenty, he wouldn’t just ditch me in a casino. Not tonight.”
Silence stretches, thick and suffocating. Finally, Giovanni exhales, low and rough. “Your father isn’t a man you can count on. You know that better than anyone.”
I snap my gaze to him, my chest aching at the truth in his words. “That doesn’t mean you get to decide what I should believe.”
His jaw ticks, his profile carved in steel under the passing streetlights. “I’m not trying to decide for you, Siena. I’m trying to protect you. Even if you don’t want me to.”
Protect me. The words shouldn’t sound like a vow. But they do.
And that’s the problem.
Because I want to believe him. I want to lean into the safety he offers like it’s something real, something lasting. But I know better. Giovanni DeLuca lives in a world of shadows and blood, and if I step into it, I may never find my way back out.
The ride feels too short and impossibly long all at once.
My pulse hasn’t slowed since the second I stepped into his car.
Giovanni doesn’t say much after that last blow of truth, and I don’t push him.
The silence is thick, but it’s not empty.
It’s full of unspoken things, sharp with tension I don’t want to name.
When he pulls up to my building, the low rumble of the engine vibrates in my bones. I stare at the familiar steps leading to my door and feel suddenly small. Exposed. Like I’m about to walk back into my regular life, but a piece of me is still sitting in the shadows of his casino.
Giovanni kills the engine and turns to me. In the dark, his eyes glint, hungry and unreadable. “Home safe,” he murmurs. “Just like I promised.”
Something in me bristles. “I didn’t ask you to promise me anything.”
He smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “No, but I did anyway. Get used to it, sweetheart.”
My throat tightens. He makes it sound like this isn’t over. Like tonight wasn’t just a reckless mistake I’ll regret in the morning. “Don’t,” I whisper, more to myself than him. “Don’t make this something it’s not.”
For a long moment, he just studies me, the weight of his gaze pressing into my skin. Then he leans in, close enough that his scent of smoke, whiskey, heat wraps around me like a trap. He brushes his thumb across my jaw, rough but careful.
“You think this was nothing?” His voice is low, dangerous. Intimate. “Trust me, Siena. It was something.”
My lips part, but no words come out. I can’t speak when he’s this close, when my body betrays me by leaning toward him instead of away.
He pulls back before I can cave, before I can beg him to kiss me again, and unlocks the doors. “Go inside before I forget I’m supposed to be a gentleman.”
I scramble for the handle, needing the space, needing air, but his words follow me out of the car and all the way up my front steps. I pause at the door, turning back. He’s still there, engine off, watching me with that same devil’s grin.
I slip inside quickly, pressing my back to the door, heart hammering. My apartment feels too quiet, too empty. And even though I know better, one truth hits me harder than all the rest?—
I already want to see him again.