Chapter 10 – Siena
SIENA
I open the door, and Giovanni steps in. His eyes are wild, darker than I’ve ever seen them, like something inside him is barely being held back.
“What’s wrong? I wasn’t expecting you.”
He doesn’t answer. Not with words.
Instead, he slams his lips to mine, his body pinning me against the wall. The kiss is frantic, desperate, demanding. His fingers dig into my upper arms, so tight it almost hurts, as if I’m the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.
And I don’t fight it. I know what it feels like to need something, need someone, to ground you when your insides are spiraling. If this is what he needs in this moment, I’ll give it to him.
I press back against him, matching his urgency. My hands slide up his chest, his heart hammering so hard it shakes beneath my palm. I can taste the tension on his tongue, the bitterness of something he’s not saying.
He pulls back just enough to press his forehead to mine, his breath ragged. His eyes burn into mine, but they’re unreadable. A storm. A mess of fury, pain, and want.
“Giovanni,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Talk to me. Please.”
His grip tightens before he forces himself to let go, his hands cupping my face instead. He kisses me again, slower this time, like he’s trying to shift from desperation to control but can’t quite make the leap.
“You don’t understand,” he rasps against my lips. “I need you. Right now. I just need you.”
My chest aches at the rawness in his tone. He’s always so composed, so sure, but right now? He’s breaking in my arms and doesn’t even realize it.
I thread my fingers into his hair, pulling him closer, letting him take what he needs from me. I don’t ask questions, though a hundred of them burn inside me. All I do is hold on and kiss him back, hoping it’s enough to quiet whatever demons are clawing at him.
But even as I melt against him, a flicker of fear gnaws at my ribs because whatever put that look in Giovanni DeLuca’s eyes is something big. Something dangerous.
And I’m not sure I want to know what it is.
His mouth crashes back onto mine, harder this time, hungrier. I don’t even try to keep up. I just let him devour me, let him steal every breath. His hands leave my face and drag down my body with a roughness that makes me shiver, fingers gripping my hips like he’s staking a claim.
I gasp as he lifts me effortlessly, my back still pressed to the wall. I wrap my legs around his waist on instinct, his body solid and unyielding against mine. His weight and strength should scare me. Instead, it makes me ache.
“Giovanni.” My voice is nothing but a broken whisper, but he growls low in his throat, like hearing his name pushes him closer to the edge.
His lips trail down my jaw, my throat, sucking, biting just enough to leave a sting. His desperation is in every touch, every kiss, and it sends heat flooding between my thighs.
We stumble toward the bedroom, never breaking apart, his hands sliding under my shirt, shoving it up and over my head before tossing it somewhere behind us. His gaze burns into me, his chest rising and falling with jagged breaths as his thumb grazes the lace of my bra.
“You don’t know what you do to me, Siena,” he mutters, his voice rough and wrecked. “You keep me from losing my fucking mind.”
Then he’s on me again, unclasping my bra with one practiced flick, his mouth immediately closing over my breast. I cry out, clutching at his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin.
Every brush of his tongue, every scrape of his teeth, feels like he’s trying to brand me, to bury himself so deep in me that I can’t escape.
Clothes disappear in a blur. His shirt pulled off, his belt yanked free, his pants shoved down. My jeans and panties are gone like they were never there.
And then it’s skin on skin, his body pinning me beneath him on the bed, hot and heavy and desperate.
“Look at me,” he demands, his voice a command I can’t refuse. His eyes lock on mine, blazing. “No walls. No lies. Just this. Just us.”
When he pushes into me, it’s raw and hard. It’s possession as much as it is pleasure. I gasp, arching into him, the stretch burning and blissful all at once. His grip on my hips is bruising, his thrusts deep and relentless, like he’s chasing something only I can give him.
Every sound that leaves me only drives him harder, his lips claiming mine between groans of my name. It’s not soft, not careful. It’s two people clinging to each other like the world outside doesn’t exist.
And in the chaos, I realize something terrifying. Giovanni isn’t just trying to ground himself. He’s trying to drown. In me. In us.
And God help me, I’m letting him.
The first time we had sex, it was every bit as rough and controlling, but this time it’s more. It’s desperation and need. There’s a connection happening in chaos.
“Fuck,” I moan as he drives into me relentlessly.
“Give it to me, sweetheart. Give me your release.”
He’s shaking above me, just as close as I am to falling over the edge.
His eyes bounce between mine, searching. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but I hope he finds it.
He circles his hips, and I cry out as my nails dig into his shoulders. I can’t fight it. My release hits me so hard and fast that I feel like I’m falling. Falling over the edge. Falling into the abyss. Falling for a man I’m just beginning to know.
“Siena, fuck,” he groans as he finds his own release, tightening his hold on me.
My chest is still heaving when he finally collapses beside me, his arm flung over his face like he’s trying to shield himself from the world.
My body hums, my skin slick and trembling, but it’s not just from the way he touched me.
It’s from the way he needed me. Like if he didn’t have this moment, he might’ve shattered into a thousand sharp, dangerous pieces.
For a long while, the only sound is our breathing, tangled and uneven. His hand finds mine, his fingers threading through like it’s second nature. The small gesture feels almost more intimate than everything that came before it.
“You wreck me, sweetheart,” Giovanni murmurs, his voice rough and low.
Heat blooms in my chest, sinful and sweet. I want to believe him, to let myself fall. But reality lurks just beneath the surface, reminding me who he is, what he’s part of.
Eventually, he sits up, dragging a hand through his messy dark hair.
He leans over the side of the bed and starts pulling on his clothes in that careless, confident way that only he could make look like a show.
His broad back is rigid, though, his movements sharper than usual, like he’s still wound tight from whatever he won’t tell me.
I pull the sheet higher over my chest and just watch him. The way his muscles flex. The faint tremor in his fingers as he fastens his belt.
Then he reaches for his shirt, tugging it on, and that’s when I see it. A smear of deep red along the fabric, stark against the pale cotton.
My breath catches.
“Giovanni,” I whisper, my voice trembling before I can stop it. “Is that blood?”
He freezes for half a second, shoulders squared, back to me. Then he slowly turns, his expression already shuttered, dark eyes unreadable.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, too calm. Too controlled.
But my heart is pounding, because I do worry. And the part of me that aches for him, that wants to believe this can be more, suddenly feels like I’m standing at the edge of a cliff, staring down into everything I swore I couldn’t survive.
My stomach twists as I stare at the dark stain on his shirt. I can’t just let it go. Not when it’s blood.
“Giovanni,” I say again, firmer this time. “Don’t brush me off. Tell me what happened.”
His jaw flexes as he finishes buttoning his shirt. He doesn’t look at me right away, and that silence slices through me worse than words ever could. Finally, his gaze lifts to mine, dark and unwavering.
“We had a deal, Siena.” His voice is low and steady. “We build this first, me and you. Us. Then I let you into what happens behind closed doors. That’s how this works.”
I clench the sheet tighter against me, my pulse pounding. “You expect me to just sit here, seeing blood on your shirt, and pretend it’s nothing?”
“Yes.” The word is blunt, clipped. “Because pretending isn’t what I’m asking from you. I’m asking for patience. Trust.” He steps closer, his presence swallowing the space between us. “I won’t lie to you. But I won’t rush this either. You agreed to that.”
Damn him. He’s right. I did agree. I told myself I could wait, that I could separate Giovanni the man from Giovanni the business. But now, staring at him like this, every instinct screams that I’ve stepped into something I’ll never walk away from unscathed.
Frustration wells in my chest, sharp and hot, but then he reaches for me. His big hands frame my face, grounding me in the way only he can. His forehead lowers until it’s pressed against mine, his breath ragged.
“I can’t lose this before it even starts,” he whispers. “Don’t make me push you away, Siena. I need you to trust me.”
My eyes sting, and I hate that he can make me crumble with so little. I hate that even as I burn with questions, I’m already leaning into him, clinging to the strength he offers.
“I’m here for you, Giovanni,” I murmur, my voice breaking. “Even if I don’t understand all of it yet. I’m here.”
His arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against him, like he’s trying to fuse us together. And for a long moment, that’s all there is. Just him holding on tight, and me letting myself believe that maybe I can handle being his.