Chapter 1 #6
His black hair is slicked back just a little.
And that piercing on his lip? God. Trashy. All of it.
I just know the lawyers hate seeing him walk through the door, because there's no way he's ever innocent.
"What the hell are you doing in my room?" I snap.
"If you came here to be a dick, you're wasting your time. I'm not that little kid anymore who cared about what you thought." I lie back down, pick up my book again.
That is it. End of conversation. Except it isn't.
I feel him walk closer again. The next second he's right above me, his shadow blocking out the light. He grabs the book from my hands.
"What are you reading? Can I see?" he asks.
I get up. Snatch the book right out of his hands.
He looks... disappointed. I almost feel bad for a second.
Then I remember who I'm dealing with. Gio.
"What do you want, Gio?"
He tilts his head. "Get ready. We're going out."
"Huh?"
"You heard me. And you're coming."
"From what universe do you think that's happening?" I shoot back, raising my eyebrows. "We don't hang out. That's not a thing. I don't want anything to do with you outside these stupid meetings. I thought you already knew that."
He doesn't answer right away. Just stares at me, then sucks the inside of his cheek like he's trying not to snap.
"Look, Ravioli," he says.
I flinch at the name but don't respond.
"The way you feel right now? That's exactly how I feel too.
I just gotta take you out. Just for tonight.
That's it." He shrugs. "It's my mom. She asked.
You know how she gets. I don't need to explain it to you.
She's gonna keep nagging me till I fucking die.
And I don't plan on dying any time soon. "
I fold my arms. Smile. "Still not my problem."
He rolls his eyes. "Come on. It's that new open-air club, the one that just launched a few weeks ago. We don't have to talk. Just come with me."
My laugh is dry. I close the book with a firm snap.
"Hard pass."
He steps closer.
"Well, if you don't come, I'll tell her we had sex. And you'll have her texting you for weekly hangouts. Dinners, walks, maybe even a movie night." He tilts his head. "She still likes you, you know. Thinks you're sweet. I can use that against you."
I stare at him. That asshole. Manipulative, and somehow still one step ahead. "You wouldn't," I mutter, looking him dead in the eyes.
"Don't make this hard. Just come with me."
I smile. He's desperate. And I'm enjoying every second of it. It's kinda funny. Kinda satisfying. Like the universe giving the little me a little justice. I smirk.
"If you really want it, beg a little."
He exhales hard. "I don't beg."
I stand up. "Then have fun going alone." I start heading for the door.
His body blocks me before I even take three steps. Chest to chest. He's taller, so now I'm standing in front of his throat, glaring up at him.
"Move," I say.
"Please," he says, and his voice actually drops a little. "Let me take you out tonight."
I grin. "Say my actual name."
He groans. "That's too far."
I tilt my head. "Then I'm walking."
He sighs, fake smile creeping in.
"Please, let me take you out tonight, Rava."
I nod like I just closed a deal. "Okay." I walk away from him. He's still staring at me. Frozen.
What a dumbass.
I snap my fingers in his face. "Wake up, idiot."
He blinks. Focus returns. "Right. Great." He claps his hands once like he's trying to reset the scene.
"Heading out now so I don't witness the vein on your dad's forehead pop when he sees me still breathing."
I don't look at him. But I smile. "Didn't know the hatred was mutual. I thought it was just him that couldn't stand you. He is pretty convinced you're the human version of a crime wave in designer clothes."
My eyes drop to his rings, the dark shirt, the scars on his knuckles, then back to his face. I give a slow, fake-thoughtful nod. "To be fair... he's not entirely wrong," I tell him.
Gio stops. Turns back. "Don't make this harder than it is," he says, clearly pissed.
What the fuck?
We stare at each other.
"I'll be waiting downstairs. Don't take forever, please."
…
What do people even wear to clubs?
God, this is embarrassing. I'm twenty-two and I still don't know how to dress for going out. And now I'm doing it in Italy, where everyone looks like they stepped out of a magazine.
Since I'm already being dragged out, I want to at least look... decent. Nice and presentable.
But nothing I own looks anything like Gio's clothes. His wardrobe screams I'm here to ruin your peace while mine still screams please don't look at me too long, this is humiliating.
I'm probably overthinking. He wouldn't think about what I'm wearing. He wouldn't care.
So why should I?
Actually... no. You know what? Not only am I not dressing nicely, I'm dressing on purpose badly.
Let everyone judge him for the people he hangs out with. Let them think, wow, Fontana brought... that? Perfect.
I pull on khaki pants and a plain white polo. Very "I'm here by force."
I adjust the chain on my wrist. That's the only thing about me that looks remotely alive.
Do I look out of place? Absolutely. Great.
Maybe that means we can leave earlier. I step outside.
There's a burgundy SF90 Stradale fucking Ferrari.
Of course it's his. Of course. Because Gio Fontana wouldn't be caught dead driving something normal.
God forbid he breathes the same air as the rest of us. I stop in front of it, cross my arms, and just stare. The audacity of this man. I bite the inside of my cheek.
"Seriously?" I snap. "You're taking a Ferrari to a club? You want to get robbed or shot first?"
He looks at me over the frames. "Ravioli," he says lazily. "Shut up and get in. You don't get many chances to ride this hard." I groan under my breath and get in.
Mostly because I'd rather die than give him the satisfaction of thinking I hesitated.
Inside smells like leather.
It is too... clean. Too polished. Weird.
Gio was never the wipe-down-your-car-every-morning kind of guy. Feels off. I snap my seatbelt hard.
I turn toward the window.
Not giving him the satisfaction of eye contact. He's already looking. I can feel it.
"What?" he says. "Don't trust me?"
I laugh once. "Of course I don't fucking trust you."
He lets out this quiet laugh that's more like mocking than laughing. I hate it.
"Cut the attitude," he says. "Watch and learn." He starts the car.
The sound? Holy fuck. Pure temptation on wheels.
Okay. Fine. It's hot and sexy. I'll admit that.
The driver though? Unbearable.
He drives slow... shockingly. Ugh. Now I can't even roast him properly. I glance at him for a second, and he immediately looks at me too. Instant eye contact. I turn my head fast.
He clears his throat, enjoying himself. "How's Canada?"
"Why do you care?"
"I don't."
Fuck you.
"Then don't ask," I mutter. "Do the world a favor."
He hums low. "Sounds perfect." He pauses.
"Oh, maybe buckle up properly. You should probably be ready for what's about to happen," he adds.
I turn to look at him. "What the hell are you—"
He turns down some random side street and before I can even ask, he fucking drifts. The whole car screams while the tires shred against the asphalt.
My hand shoots out, gripping the seat and the door. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!?!"
The Ferrari slides like it's dancing with death, and he just laughs. Laughs. We shoot straight into a tunnel. The sound triples. I feel like I'm in a blender.
"Gio!" I shout. "Are you—do you have a death wish?!?!"
He doesn't answer. One hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gear stick, like this is fucking yoga. His hair moves with the wind. His tattooed hand taps the steering wheel like he's bored.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
I grip the door handle tighter. I look at him fully panicked, and he has the audacity to look at me like I'm the crazy one.
When he finally slows down, I realize I'm half-hunched over, breathing like I just escaped a hostage situation.
My hand is shaking. My soul left the car. He glances at me. Smirks. "Relax. That was nothing."
My mouth hangs open. "NOTHING? You psycho! Do you have a brain injury or something?!"
He just shrugs. "Chill. You're just boring."
"Sorry for valuing my life?!" I snap. "Not all of us have a death fetish!"
He grins wider. "The only thing I'm hearing is: I'm boring, I love books, I probably eat paper for breakfast, I'm a little academic caterpillar."
I just stare at him. No words. My hand goes straight to my face. Then I rub my temples, hard.
"Oh my god," I mutter.
How am I supposed to survive this man. How do I make him shut up.
6) Gio On A Leash
Rava
We get to the entrance and can already hear the bass shaking the balcony. Capo Plaza is blasting at full volume, people leaning over the railings with drinks in their hands, shouting over the music.
Holy shit. The place is packed.
I turn to him. "One of us should go in first. I'm not walking in with you."
He smirks. "Couldn't agree more, love." He snatches my phone out of my hand before I can react.
I blink. "What the hell are you doing?"
He doesn't even look up. "Putting my number in your phone," he says. "For when it's time to leave. I'm not running around a club trying to find you."
Okay. That's actually logical. Annoying, but logical.
He hands it back and I take it quietly.
"Oh, I almost forgot."
I'm about to turn away when his hand suddenly grabs my arm and pulls me sideways.
I stumble straight into him. "What the hell—"
His arm drops over my shoulders and he leans his head against mine. Before I can even process what's happening, he actually takes a picture of us.
"Beautiful."
"What the hell was that for?"
"To jerk off to it tonight," he says instantly.
My eyes and my mouth go wide at the same time. Gio bursts out laughing next to me.
Is that a joke? If it is, then I'm stupid.
How am I already falling for his dumb lines? It's the first day. I was supposed to stop being a victim and now I've been clowned like three times already.