Chapter 57
Ican’t stop watching her. Same as last year, I stay out of sight in the shadows of the Dragovari Tower lobby New Year’s Eve gala, mesmerized by her like every other man here.
She’s at the edge of the dance floor, her head tipped back as she laughs at something Lexi says, gold lights from the glass chandeliers highlighting her cheekbones.
The difference between this year and last year is that last year, my assistant Una went MIA for most of the event and left me to my own devices.
Without someone forcing me into fake conversations and with Giovanna flitting around with Lexi and not Antonio, I could indulge my obsession and just drown in her details.
This year, Una won’t leave me the fuck alone.
“You’re crankier than usual today,” she says, and I think she might be trying for a joke, but she keeps maneuvering me into situations where I can’t see Giovanna over the person’s shoulder.
I’ve lost her again in the crowd, and as much as I like keeping her in my eye line, I can’t risk actually running into her.
Simone Ashford, one of Assemblyman Donovan’s lawyers, just pulled me into a chat, as Una flanks my right shoulder, tapping away on her phone.
She usually takes notes on these conversations for me.
I have a great memory for detail, but I have to actually be paying attention, and that’s just not something I can do when Giovanna is in the room.
Simone Ashford is all sharp edges, the kind of kingmaker that every politician dreams about having on his team.
Her long bob is shiny and cut like a razor, her hair colored the exact same shade of brown as her long nails.
She’s wearing a gold dress similar to the one that Giovanna wore to this event the year that I fisted her in the bathroom.
Simone is talking about an expansion project with the shipping terminals that I’ve been stalling because Vin is working on building his contacts with the Irish mob that runs the docks, but all I can think about is Giovanna’s face when she finally let me push all five fingers inside her.
How she looked with her legs spread wide, her period staining us both red with her blood.
“You should really speak with my intern. She’s been handling most of the groundwork.
Giovanna—”
The name detonates inside me, zip lining me back to the present moment.
Una stiffens beside me. My obsession with Gi is no secret from her; she’s seen the worst of it, and she knows it’s never good for work when my focus is on her.
Una interrupts her. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Demonio really needs to go speak with—”
“Nonsense. She’s right here.
Giovanna!” Simone smiles over my shoulder and waves her over.
And there she is. Giovanna. My sweet girl, walking toward me with a folder in her hands, looking like every sleepless night I’ve spent since I let her go.
My pulse kicks into a sprint.
Simone beams. “Giovanna’s been pulling double time on this.
She can walk you through every angle.”
I cut her down with a look and a voice sharp enough to draw blood.
“I don’t need anything from her.”
Simone blinks, startled, and Giovanna freezes, her fake smile on her face as her eyes flash angrily at me.
Una slides her hand into the crook of my elbow and gently tugs as she gives them a sheepish grin and shakes her head in commiseration.
“I’m sorry. Long day! But we’ll certainly make our way back around before the end of the night.
”
We won’t.
At least an hour passes before I can finally escape Una for a minute, taking a break from the relentless conversation in the back hallway by the bathrooms.
When I look up from my phone, Giovanna is standing in front of me, hands on her hips.
It’s all I can do to avoid smiling. Even when she’s angry with me, I’d rather be with her than do anything else.
“How dare you,” she hisses, her voice low and fiery.
“Don’t start with me, Gi.” The words feel like broken glass scraping my throat.
“You need to stop this bullshit. I’m not going anywhere.
You’re going to see me around, so learn how to be fucking civil.
You smile at men you want dead; you play nice with politicians you despise.
Why can’t you do the same with me?”
I laugh, bitter as poison.
“If you want to yell at someone, go find your little fuck toy boyfriend. Where is he tonight, anyway? Shouldn’t you be on his leash?
Or maybe he’s waiting to fuck you in one of the back rooms later—”
“He doesn’t fuck me at all.
” Gi looks like she regrets saying the words as soon as they are out of her mouth, but they stop me cold, the floor vanishing beneath me.
“What?” My heart slams against my ribs. “I saw your marks on him, Giovanna.”
Her laugh is humorless.
“Do you mean almost a year and a half ago when I broke a wine glass on his face? Otherwise, he has other… outlets.”
The rage floods me so fast my hands shake, and I have to close my eyes for an extra second to process what she’s telling me.
“He’s cheating on you? And you stay?
” My voice is cracking, feral.
“I missed one fucking birthday dinner and you throw away a connection that is written in the fucking stars, but this asshole fucks other women and you stay?”
She shrugs like none of it matters.
“I wasn’t sleeping with him. I can’t really expect him to wait around forever.
”
I want to tear my own skin off. “What the fuck, Gi? How long?”
“Honestly? The whole time, I think.”
“And he never tries or—”
“Occasionally. I always have a reason not to, and he doesn’t try very often.
”
I drag both hands through my hair, nearly ripping it out.
“Why do you stay? Why? If I’d known you were unhappy with him, I would’ve hunted you down, dragged you out of there years ago.
”
She gives a dry laugh. “We’re all adults here.
We’re both getting something out of it, just not sex.
Or love.” When she sees that I am freaking the fuck out, she pats my arm.
“It’s not your job to take care of me, Tommy.
”
“My only job is to take care of you.” My chest caves in with the truth.
“It always was. I got so obsessed with doing things one way—my way—that I stopped seeing you, stopped focusing on what was important, the whole reason I do anything. But I never stopped trying to protect you. Never.”
“Tommy—”
“Be with me. Please.” I step into her, my voice raw, desperate.
“I’m sorry for every way I fucked this up, but I swear to God, Gi, my heart never left you.
It never fucking left.”
She opens her mouth, maybe to argue, but I can’t take it.
I grab her wrists and slam them against the wall above her head as I slam my body into hers, crashing into her lips.
She rakes her nails down my arms and I groan, grabbing her face, her shoulders, her arms, her breasts—I can’t touch enough of her.
She reaches out a hand along the wall, feeling for the door handle to the bathroom.
“Tommy!”
Her voice is panicked, and I lean back as she frantically looks up and down the hallway.
We’re alone, but I follow her into the bathroom, and she locks the door.
We collide with one another, clawing at each other’s clothes, desperate.
She’s a lot thicker than she used to be, and I fucking love it, urgently exploring every inch of her body with my mouth, with my hands.
I drop to my knees and shove her dress up to her waist, ripping her panties off her.
Eating her feels like a feast after years of starving.
She feels the same because she’s coming on my face before I even push a finger inside of her, and I almost come right along with her.
“Fuck, Gi,” I groan, sucking all her wetness off her thighs and pussy.
Her hands are in my hair, tugging urgently.
“Tommy, please. Please, I need you inside—”
I lift her, slam her back against the wall, her legs locking around me.
Her eyes widen, and she puts her hands on my chest. “Wait, do you have a condom?”
“No.” I don’t fucking care if she has all the STIs, but…
. “Do you need me to wear one?”
“I just…your other women…”
“Women have gone down on me since you left, but I wore a condom every time, and I haven’t been inside anyone but you in my life.
”
“You wore a condom when you got a blow job?” she asks, confused.
“Giovanna…” I growl. “I don’t want to feel anyone on me but you.
Please, Gi…”
“Fuck me, Tommy.”
She gasps into my mouth as I dig my fingertips into her thick hips hard enough to bruise her bones and shove all the way inside her.
We both moan, and she practically cries my name into my neck as I fuck her hard and punishing.
“I know, sweet girl,” I groan into her hair, fucking her like I might die if I stop.
It’s messy, it’s ugly, it’s perfect. We both come apart within seconds, both of us shaking and shuddering, clinging to each other.
It’s just been too long for either of us to hold out for long.
I press my forehead to hers, still trembling, my hands gripping her tightly as my cock stays hard as I start to move inside her again.
“I’m not fucking done with you, sweet girl, I’ll never be done.
”
That’s when she breaks. Tears spill hot on my neck, her body shivering against me.
“I can’t, Tommy,” she sobs, her voice wrecked.
“We can’t. You have to be done with me. If anything happened to you because of me, I would— Fuck!
I’m saying too much. I’m sorry, Tommy. Please, I have to go.
”
I freeze as she pulls away from me, frantic.
“No. Don’t—”
But she’s already smoothing her dress down, wiping her face, checking her hair in the mirror.
She turns back to look at me, her eyes wide with regret.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers and disappears out the door.
I awkwardly stand there, throat burning, hands useless at my sides, the ghost of her still pressed against me.
**
The door to my suite in Dragovari Tower slams behind me, echoing like a gunshot in the hollow of my chest.
The only sound louder is the reverberations of her in my head.
The taste of her, the feel of her skin, her warm wet pussy gripping my dick as she came, the burn of her nails down my back.
The fucking fiery inferno of her words telling me to be done with her like it’s even fucking possible.
Like she’s not carved into my fucking DNA.
I grab the first thing within reach, a crystal glass, and it shatters against the wall before I even realize I’ve thrown it.
Shards explode, glittering in the lamplight.
The sound makes something uncoil in me, so I grab another glass, and another, hurling them until the minibar is stripped bare.
I rip open a bottle of whiskey and slug it back, the liquid pouring down my chest, then throw that, too.
Whiskey pours across the carpet like blood.
The rage is overwhelming. I rip the lamp from the table and smash it, bending the shade in half, bursting the bulb.
The room goes dark. I want to kill something, someone.
Antonio, for getting to lay down next to her every night.
Lorenzo, for coming between us. My father, for…
everything.
Tearing at the curtains, I rip them from the rods, fling them across the floor.
I kick the table until it splinters, drive my fists into the wall until it cracks, until my knuckles split and drip red.
The sting is nothing. Less than nothing.
I’m breathing like I’ve run a mile. My chest heaves; sweat slicks down my spine.
I stagger to the minibar cabinet, wrench it open, find an unopened bottle of whiskey inside.
I rip off the cap with my teeth and drink straight from it, gulping until my throat burns and my stomach churns.
It doesn’t matter. I drink anyway. Again.
Again. Again.
I collapse onto the wreckage of the couch, bottle clutched to my chest like a lifeline.
Something sharp digs into my thigh, but I don’t move.
I just keep the bottle pressed to my lips, drinking until my vision blurs.
Her face swims in front of me, soft and perfect, then shatters like the glass on the carpet.
I close my eyes and it’s worse—I hear her laugh, feel her body under mine, taste her tears.
I had her. She was here; she was in my arms. And now she’s gone.
I tip the bottle back, letting it sear me until I can’t breathe, hoping it will burn her out of me like acid.
But it doesn’t. Because I’m never fucking done with Giovanna.