Chapter 8 Raven
RAVEN
Aloud crash followed by a thud jerks me from sleep. I bolt upright and look around for a moment, wondering if I actually heard something or if it was just a dream.
The sun coming in through the windows is momentarily blinding, and I rub my eyes. Then I hear another thud, followed by some muffled voices outside my door.
I stumble off the couch, paint flakes falling from my clothes as I move.
Shit, I need to stop falling asleep in my work clothes. I turn back to make sure there's no paint smeared all over the couch. Thankfully, there's none.
The noise outside grows louder. Jesus, what time is it? What the hell is going on out there?
I approach the door, tiredness making me forget about my peephole. I grab the handle and yank it open—my stomach drops.
Boxes. Everywhere. Stacked against the walls, scattered across the floor.
And in the middle of it all stands Gio, directing men who are carrying things into James's old apartment.
His presence fills the narrow space, muscles rippling beneath his fitted black t-shirt as he points to where he wants things placed.
"What the hell is this?" My voice comes out hoarse from sleep.
Gio turns, a slight smile spreading across his face. "Good morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?"
"Don't 'sweetheart' me. What are you doing here?"
"Moving in." He gestures to the apartment across from mine. "Your neighbor was kind enough to sublet."
The words shock my system like a bucket of ice water. "You're WHAT?"
He steps closer to me, and I fight the urge to slam the door in his face. "I told you, Raven. You're under my protection. This is the best way to ensure your safety."
"Oh really? By stalking me?" I say, a bit louder than I intended, fury overriding my initial shock. "This is insane. You can't just—"
"There you go again, telling me what I can and can't do," he says, interrupting me. "I can, and I am."
"JESUS! I don't need protection!" The words explode from me. "Especially not from you!"
One of his men pauses, watching our exchange. Gio dismisses him with a sharp nod.
"You have no idea what you need protection from." His voice drops lower, dangerous. "And until I figure it out, or get what I'm after, I'm here."
"So you're just going to make my life hell? Go around intimidating my customers and now," I say, pointing to James's door, "my neighbors, too?"
Gio looks at the apartment door and then back at me. "Relax," he says and then takes a step closer to me, almost in my doorframe. "I made him a generous offer. You wouldn't even believe how much I'm paying for this. If anything, I did him a favor."
I feel his heat radiating from his body, and despite my anger, my traitorous skin prickles with awareness. I take a step back, crossing my arms for protection. "Can you do me a favor and get the fuck out of here? I don't need to be watched 24/7."
His green eyes darken as they look me up and down. "No. And you do," he says simply.
The casualness in his tone makes me snap. I slam the door in his face, grab the nearest throw pillow, and scream into it until my throat burns. This can't be happening. It has to be some kind of nightmare.
I sink onto the couch, my mind racing. How am I supposed to live like this? With him right across the hall, watching my every move?
Screw it. I've got plans today.
I hop in the shower, and as the hot water pours over my head, I relive my previous interaction with Gio, the note my brother left—everything.
And suddenly, despite my anger and fear, does a tiny part of me feel that damn relieved feeling again?
I take some shampoo and scrub my scalp, maybe a little too hard, as if I can wash these betraying thoughts away.
Focus on what you can control, Raven, I think to myself.
If Gio thinks he can control me, he's in for one hell of a surprise. I may be stuck with him as a neighbor for now, but I'll be damned if I let him dictate my life.
After my shower, I dress quickly in a black sleeveless dress that falls just above my knees and a pair of strappy heels. I do my makeup and give myself one last look in the mirror.
I grab my purse and head out, deliberately avoiding even a glance in Gio's direction as I pass the chaos of his move-in. I can feel his eyes on me, burning a hole in my back, but I don't give him the satisfaction of acknowledgment.
The summer air hits my face as I exit onto the street, and I breathe deeply, finally feeling some form of freedom.
I check my phone—just enough time to make it to Sufra's Bistro, where I'm meeting Marcus, an old friend I haven't seen in years.
We used to date briefly, and when he learned I was back in Chicago, I thought seeing a familiar face would do me some good. Plus, he's still pretty cute.
The restaurant's patio is busy when I arrive, but I spot Marcus immediately. He stands as I approach, pulling me into a warm hug. "Well, look who finally decided to grace Chicago with her presence again. Italy's been good to you. You look amazing!"
"You don't look so bad yourself," I say, settling into my chair. The waiter appears with a bottle of prosecco.
"I thought it would be fitting given your recent return."
"Yes, it's great," I say as the waiter pours our glasses.
I take a sip, and the taste mixed with the warm sun on my skin makes me think of the small cafe I used to visit in Florence. God, how I wish I was back there.
But I let myself relax. Marcus's easy laughter and familiar face help, just as I hoped they would.
"So, tell me," Marcus leans forward, "what's new in the world of Raven Carvello? Still saving priceless masterpieces?"
I laugh. I knew I could count on Marcus not to bring up my brother. That's all anyone I've run into since returning has instantly asked.
"You could say that. I'm looking over the gallery now, and that's a bit of a challenge. But nothing I can't handle."
Marcus reaches across the table, his hand covering mine. "The Raven I knew was always able to figure things out. I know you're going to thrive here. God, it's really good to see you."
The compliment warms me, and I feel a bit shy as Marcus gazes into my eyes. I glance around, suddenly feeling vulnerable, and that's when I see it—a sleek black Rolls-Royce pulling up to the curb.
My chest tightens, and my heart feels like it's going to explode in my chest.
No. Not here. Not now.
Gio emerges from the car like a wolf from its den. His eyes lock onto me immediately, and he strides toward us without losing eye contact.
Marcus follows my gaze. "Friend of yours?"
"No."
"Who is he?" Marcus asks.
Before I can answer, Gio is at our table. His presence seems to suck all the oxygen from around us.
"Raven." His voice is low, with a hint of anger. "We need to go."
I straighten my spine, meeting his gaze. "Uh, no. I'm having lunch with a friend. I'll see you later, I suppose."
His jaw tightens. "This isn't a request. We're leaving. Now."
I laugh and take a sip of my prosecco. "I wasn't aware I needed your permission to have lunch with a friend."
Marcus stands, confused but protective. "Hey, man, I don't know who you are, but—"
Gio's gaze snaps to him, and Marcus falters. "Sit the fuck down," Gio commands. "This doesn't concern you."
I snap, looking up at him. "Go. Away."
Gio looks back at me. "Car. Now."
"No. You don't get to order me around."
Gio places both hands on the table, leaning down until his face is inches from mine. "Don't make me cause a scene."
"You're already causing one," I hiss, noticing others starting to watch us.
"Walk to my car, or I'll carry you there myself."
I stare at him, and while I don't know much about him, I know that look in his eyes. He'll do it. He'll create a spectacle right here on Michigan Avenue.
"I'm so sorry, Marcus," I say, standing. "I'll call you later."
I storm past Gio toward the Rolls-Royce. His driver opens the door, and I slide inside, my hands shaking with rage.
Gio follows, his presence filling the backseat. "Drive," he commands, and the car pulls away from the curb.
I try to tell myself it was the right thing to do. For me, and for Marcus. I don't need him dragged into this mess, let alone whatever Gio would do to him.
But my rage doesn't falter.
"How dare you—" I start.
"How dare I?" he cuts me off. "You leave without a word, meet some unknown man—"
"He's a friend from college!"
"I don't care if he's the fucking Pope," Gio snarls. "You don't go anywhere without telling me first from now on."
"What am I, your damn prisoner?"
"No." His hand shoots out, gripping my chin. "You're mine to protect. And you'll learn to accept that, one way or another."
I smack his hand away. "Don't fucking touch me."
The silence in the car is suffocating. I stare out the window, watching the Chicago streets blur past, refusing to look at him, my hands clenched into fists to stop my frustration from showing.
"Since you clearly can't be trusted to make smart decisions," Gio says, his voice cutting through the tension, "we're going to establish some ground rules."
I bark out a laugh. "Rules? I don't even know y—"
"Rule number one," he interrupts, as if I hadn't spoken. "No leaving without telling me where you're going."
"Absolutely not."
"Rule two." His voice becomes more firm. "When I'm not around, you check in every few hours via text."
The leather seat creaks as I turn to face him. "Are you delusional?"
"Rule three." His green eyes lock onto mine, intense and unyielding. "I'm taking over gallery security. I or my men will be there full-time."
"Like hell you are! That's my—"
He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small device. "And rule four. This Apple AirTag stays in your purse at all times."
My stomach churns at the sight of the innocent-looking tracking device. "You want to tag me like I'm some kind of animal? Why don't you just put a collar around my damn neck and—"
"I could if that's your sort of thing."
"Oh, screw you."
"Look, I just want to keep you alive," he says sternly. "Until I figure you out and what I can get from you. Then you're free to do whatever the hell you want for all I care. So, until I'm satisfied—these aren't suggestions, Raven. They're requirements."
"Requirements?" I roll my eyes. "I don't care what you want. You killed my brother, remember? And now you think you can control my life?"
"Let's not forget your brother tried to kill my brother first, remember?" His voice drops dangerously low. "And someone put him up to it. Until I find out exactly who, these are the rules."
The car pulls up to the gallery, and I've never been so grateful to see those familiar doors. Before the driver can get out, I grab the handle.
"Okay, here's my rule," I spit out. "Go fuck yourself."
Gio's hand wraps around my arm as I start to exit. "The tag, Raven."
I twist away from his grip, my skin crawling from where he touched me, and step out onto the sidewalk. I turn to look at him still sitting in the car. "Stick it up your ass."
I storm toward the side elevator, jabbing the button repeatedly as if it will make it arrive faster. I can feel Gio's presence behind me, gathering like a storm cloud.
The elevator dings, and I step inside, turning to face him as the doors close.
His expression is thunderous, a mix of anger and something else—frustration, maybe even concern.
But I don't care. All I know is that I need to get away from him, to breathe, to think.
As the elevator rises, I lean against the wall, thinking. I know this isn't over.
But he can go to hell with his rules and his tracking devices. I'm not his possession to monitor.
When the elevator doors slide open, I rush out, my heels hitting the ground angrily as I walk.
I fumble with my keys, shoving them into the lock with more force than necessary.
I fling the door open, ready to slam it shut when something catches my eye—a small, blinking red light in the top corner of the ceiling.
"What the hell?" I say, confused, and then it hits me. "What the actual fuck?" I yell and stumble back out into the hallway colliding into a solid wall of muscle. Gio. He's there, of course he's there, probably followed me up. His green eyes bore into mine, unreadable and intense.
"Did you put that in there?" I demand, jabbing a finger toward my apartment. "A camera?"
Gio doesn't flinch. He doesn't even blink. "Yes."
Again, with his so damn calm, matter-of-fact tone. It just makes me see red.
"What are you, some freaking voyeur?" Heat floods my cheeks. "Is there one in the bathroom too? Huh? You want to watch me pee? That your thing, you—"
"Enough," Gio growls.
I stumble back as Gio advances, my legs hitting a chair. My knees buckle, and I fall into it, my heart racing. A strange, burning sensation rushes through my body, and I can't place what it is.
Gio stands over me, his presence overwhelming. "It's just for the living room. Covers the main doors. Just in case someone comes for you, I want to know about it before they put a bullet in your head," he says, then pauses for a moment.
A bullet in my head?
"And no, nothing in the bathroom or bedroom," he continues and bends down. "Trust me, if I want to see a woman naked, I don't need cameras. You're just a job, a task to get what I'm after. Don't go flattering yourself, thinking I give a shit what happens to you beyond finding out what I'm after."
His words sting more than they should. I tell myself I don't care what this man thinks of me, but something in my chest tightens.
Gio grabs my purse from where I dropped it and shoves the AirTag inside. He tosses it onto the chair beside me, the leather hitting my thigh.
"I don't care if you hate me," he growls, "but you'll follow my rules, or whoever you need protection from will be the least of your damn worries."
Before I can respond, he turns and slams the door shut behind him. I sit there, frozen, my breath coming in short gasps, my body still betraying me with this strange weakness.
I close my eyes, willing sleep to come, even though it's the middle of the day. Maybe when I wake up, this will all have been a bad dream.
But I know better. This is my new reality, whether I like it or not. And somehow, I need to find a way to navigate it without losing myself in the process.