Chapter 9 Giovanna
Giovanna
Political maneuvering and networking may be hard, but getting the perfect outfit for any occasion is easy, thanks to my tailor, Ann, and her team.
I bring Tommy to meet her at her shop in midtown, the opaque glass walls glittering with reflections of Fifth Avenue traffic.
“Ann, we need a Brioni suit. Black vicuna. Three-button will look best on his build. Wide notched lapel, nice tailored fit, no vest, silk tie. Classic and intimidating. We’re making an impression.
”
Ann nods briskly, snapping her fingers and barking at her assistants in German, all of whom are batting their eyes at Tommy.
“Classic and intimidating, huh?” he asks, a twinkle in his eye, and I blush.
The way he’s looking at me isn’t new. It’s the way he always looks when he thinks I’m not watching.
But now, he doesn’t look away when I catch him.
Ann is scribbling on a notepad. “Miss, the vicuna will double the cost, making your total $18,286.”
“Great. Put it on my account. We’re on a deadline.
”
When I turn back to Tommy, he slides his hands down my arms, grinning.
He hasn’t stopped touching me since the coffee shop, and I’m losing my fucking mind over it.
“I thought you said this guy would be wearing a $5000 suit.”
“Which is why you will be wearing an $18,000 suit. As soon as you walk in, he’ll be in check.
”
Ann swats Tommy’s arm. “Remove the shirt.”
Without hesitation, he grabs the collar at the back of his neck and peels off his t-shirt.
I have to stop myself from gaping, as always.
Ann’s assistants do not make the same effort.
Lean and tall, his shoulders and chest are solid and defined by deep cuts of muscle that heave with each breath.
His sleeve tattoos intertwine with scars that ridge along his olive skin over veined muscle.
His torso narrows into a taut waist, his abs sculpted into a deep V that dips below his jeans like an arrow pointing to heaven.
He lifts his arms for Ann’s tape measure but never looks away from me.
The corner of his mouth lifts in that smug, knowing smirk that makes my pulse race.
“So how do I begin this meeting?”
I shake my head to clear my brain.
Focus. “Uh, since it’s at his office, arrive exactly on time.
”
“Why?”
“It sends the message that you are very busy, but also punctual—good things for a student and a lawyer.”
I brush a piece of thread off the jacket when Ann places it on him.
He seems distracted by me touching him, so I pull back and continue.
“When you walk in, he should stand up, offer to shake your hand, and invite you to take a seat. If he doesn’t do those things, you know something’s up.
”
Tommy nods slowly, the way he does when he’s mentally etching every word in stone.
“Either way, you set the tone of the meeting: efficient, pleasant. But do not let him fuck with you. If he says something aggressive, shut him down.
“How?” Tommy steps his legs apart as one of the younger tailors crouches down to measure his inseam and makes a fist and raises his eyebrow questioningly.
I laugh. “Verbally. You know how to be in charge, Tommy. Just take charge.”
“Even though I’m not.” Tommy doesn’t even notice the tailors.
“You are if you say you are.” I can’t help staring at the outline of his cock and where it hits his thigh under his jeans, and of course he catches me.
When I hold his gaze, my heart pounding, a smoldering intensity passes over his face.
“I’m in charge if I say I am, huh,” his voice dips, husky.
Ann steps to my side and whispers, “He needs to remove his pants.”
My pulse hammers, but I smirk to cover it.
“Take your pants off, Tommy.”
I don’t expect him to agree so easily.
When he steps out of his jeans, his hard cock outlined by the fabric of his boxer briefs, the smirk falls off my face.
Holy fuck.
He’s fucking huge. I’ve always heard he was big, and I’ve seen the evidence of that here and there over the years, but he is…
massive. My pussy hurts just looking at him.
“Where were we?” I ask, my mind completely blank.
Ann slips the jacket off him and replaces it with a crisp white shirt, then hands him the pants to step into.
When he’s done zipping up, he looks to me for approval, his shirt hanging open enough to reveal ridges of muscle.
“Is this okay?”
Okay? Almost every man I know wears a suit, but holy shit, Tommy in a suit is so devastating I can barely breathe.
“Ann, change out these buttons for the four-hole charcoal gray ones and make sure to leave the buttons off the sleeves for the cufflinks. Give him the sterling silver knots, the one with the Brioni B logo on the toggle.”
He’s watching me, his gaze steadily intensifying.
I’m drawn to him like gravity, my fingertips grazing his chest as I button his shirt for him.
Heat pours off him in waves, and his heart is pounding in his chest, but you would never tell by looking at him.
“Subtle elegance,” I manage, smoothing the fabric.
“I don’t want you to look like a waiter.
Or an FBI agent.”
“So you like the suit?” His voice is low, husky.
The suit, him—yes, I like it all, maybe a little too much.
A lump forms in my throat, and I start to step back, pulling my hands away from his chest, but he grips my wrists and holds me in place.
I try to force a laugh. “It’s more important that you like it.
”
“I’ll like it better when you take it off me.
” He’s staring at my mouth, and I can barely breathe.
I swallow hard, my throat dry. If we were alone, I would tear that suit off him.
But we’re not, so I try to redirect.
“If he is aggressive, threaten him with something he values,” I almost stammer, but I tap into my upbringing to find that cool, calm camouflage that serves me so well.
“Money, reputation, power.”
“A woman.”
I shake my head, forcing composure.
“Not usually. Women are disposable to most of these guys. They usually have a few on the side anyway, so losing one isn’t a hardship.
”
“It’s the only thing that would convince me to do something I didn’t want to do.
” He leans in, his mouth inches from mine.
“One woman. My woman. Now and forever.”
Wait—what?
Forever? The words slam into me like a punch.
My stomach lurches, and my head spins, the floor tilting under me.
Is this real? Or is it Antonio all over again and almost every guy I’ve dated since I was 14, whispering forever just to get inside me?
Two weeks ago he was hooking up with my best friend, and now he’s talking to me about forever?
Did he lie about fucking her, too?
Rage flares up, surging through my blood.
God fucking damn it. I cannot fucking believe Tommy is pulling this shit.
Ann taps his shoulder, distracting him long enough for me to jerk away from him.
I don’t know if I’m more angry at him for thinking I’d be stupid enough to fall for that shit, or angry at myself for all but dropping to my knees in a puddle of drool when he took his clothes off.
Tommy is watching me, assessing me, feeling the shift in my mood.
“What else do I need to know?”
“Just tell him what you want and make him do it,” I snap.
“You know, like you treat women.”
“What?” Tommy’s voice comes out low and threatening.
I cross my arms, hip cocked defiantly. “From what I hear, you order a woman around, and she either does it or not. I’m guessing most of the time she does it, but I wouldn’t know.
”
“Does that bother you?” He’s frowning, and Ann has to pull on his arm hard to get him to move.
“That you give orders in bed? Why would it?” I’m flustered, and the fact that I’m flustered makes me even more flustered.
Fuck!
“That I’m not giving you orders.” His voice drops an octave, and I glare at him.
“Do you want me to be bothered, Tommy? Is that why you blew me off on New Year’s Eve and fucked my best friend?
”
Tommy clenches his jaw, and the younger tailors freeze and look at Ann, who waves them back to work.
“I told you I didn’t fuck Lexi,” he growls.
I scoff. “Lying is not something I recommend when you’re trying to manipulate someone.
You never know what facts they hold, and bluffing will just get you in trouble.
”
He shakes Ann off and closes the distance between us in two steps, grabbing my shoulders and pinning me against the wall.
“Take your own advice. You can’t possibly know what I do in bed because I’ve never taken anyone to bed that you know, including Lexi.
And that is not a lie, Giovanna.”
I roll my eyes, even though my pulse has just skyrocketed, taking my blood pressure with it, making it hard for me to see straight.
“That’s not what Lexi says—”
He narrows his eyes at me.
“You believe Lexi over me?”
I waver. I don’t think he’s lied to me before, but men lie.
My father lies. Antonio lies. And now after two weeks of ignoring me, years of shutting down my advances, Tommy is suddenly giving me this forever bullshit and trying to fuck me?
“Giovanna!” Tommy’s voice is so loud and harsh that even Ann jumps.
I start to shake, feeling like I’m about to burst into tears, and I don’t know why.
“It doesn’t matter. Ann can take care of you from here.
Good luck at your interview, Tommy.”
I try to pull free, needing air, needing distance before I unravel completely, but he won’t let me go.
Ann clears her throat. “Excuse me, but I need the shirt and pants, sir.”
With his gaze locked on mine, he roughly drags his hands down my arms to my wrists, forcing my hands to his chest.
“Take it off me.”
It’s an order, a command that triggers a pulse in my pussy.
My stomach jumps into my chest as the energy between us practically crackles.
“Do not test me, Giovanna,” he growls. “You may think you know how I handle people who don’t do what I ask, but you don’t.
And you won’t like it.”
His eyes are fiery black coals, and my father’s warnings echo in my head.
I’m shaking with a combination of rage and fear, half that rage aimed at myself.
Because I want him. Even if he’s fucking with me, playing me, thinks I’m going to fall for some stupid love con bullshit, I fucking want him to be the one to teach me, to hurt me, to make me come.
I don’t want forever. But I need him right now.
I try to steady my fingers as I slowly undo each button, glaring up at him until I reach the bottom buttons.
I drop my gaze down to his waist, can’t stop myself from trailing my nails lightly underneath the shirt, along the ridges of his chiseled abs.
Just below his waistband, the black ink of his tattoos drips and winds across his muscles, and I trace them gently.
A shudder runs through him, and I look up to find him watching me, his eyelids growing heavy.
I pause at his waistband, and he gives a harsh nod.
Undoing the hook and bar then unzipping his pants, his hard cock twitches when my fingers brush over it.
The pants pool at his feet, and Ann grabs them as he steps out.
His bare chest is heaving with short, jagged breaths, and the way his muscular thighs and hard ridge of his cock look in his boxer briefs has me breathing erratically, too.
Everything about this man is beautiful, even the wicked way he’s practically baring his teeth at me.
Slowly, he lowers his head, mouth hovering above mine, and growls, “Everybody out.”