Chapter 19 Raven
RAVEN
My heart pounds as I slip out of Gio's bed. I pause, holding my breath as he shifts in his sleep, but thankfully, he doesn't wake. Grabbing the bag of clothes, I sneak out and dart across the hallway to my own apartment, wearing only Gio's oversized shirt.
My hands shake as I quickly unlock my door and jump inside before anyone can see me. Once inside, I lean against the door for a second, calming myself. After a few breaths, I stumble to my bedroom and sink onto the edge of my mattress.
My throat tightens as everything crashes over me at once—the dead men, the sex, my father's betrayal.
What the fuck did I just do?
I can still taste Gio on my lips. Between my legs, a deep soreness lingers—a reminder of what we did.
"Dammit." I squeeze my eyes shut. I should hate him. He killed my brother. He threatened me, stalked me, controlled me. But when he touches me—God, when he touches me—I don't care. I forget the danger, forget my own name. My body doesn't listen to logic.
My fingers find the small raven tattoo on my wrist, tracing the delicate lines. "What should I do, Mom?" I whisper into the darkness. "I'm so lost. Dad basically sold me out to the Russians. And Gio... he's everything you warned me about. But when I'm with him..."
Silence. I close my eyes, trying to imagine what she'd say. She'd probably tell me to follow my heart, but my heart is pulling me in a thousand different directions.
I stand and pace the room, Gio's shirt brushing against my thighs. His scent clings to the fabric, intoxicating, pulling me under.
"This is insane," I mutter, trying desperately to talk myself out of it. "He's a killer. A criminal. I can't possibly have feelings for him."
But I don't believe myself. Not after last night.
I rip off Gio's shirt and toss it in the hamper, quickly changing into my own clothes—black yoga pants and an oversized sweater. Even dressed, my skin still tingles where his hands touched me.
I need to do something. Anything to stop thinking about him.
There's only one thing that calms me when my mind won't shut up—work.
I grab my keys and slip out of my apartment, taking the back stairs down to the gallery. I flip on just enough light to work. The basement air is cool and dry, the familiar scent of paint and oil wrapping around me like a comforting blanket.
Here, I'm not a woman drowning in emotions. I'm not the daughter of a man who betrayed me. I'm just an artist, bringing beauty back to life.
As I work, time disappears. The world falls away, leaving only the steady movement of my brush. This is why I love restoration—taking something damaged and making it whole again.
If only I could do the same for myself.
Footsteps on the stairs snap me back. I tense, expecting Gio. But when I turn, it's Steven.
I glance at my phone.
Shit. Six hours have passed. It's almost opening time.
"Raven? Have you been down here all night?" Concern lines his face.
I shrug, not wanting to explain. "Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd get some work done."
Steven steps behind me, his hands landing on my shoulders.
"You work too hard," he says, leaning in to examine the painting. "But damn, you're good at what you do. This restoration is coming along beautifully."
I barely register his words. My focus is on his hands.
"Remove your fucking hands from her."
Steven jerks back instantly.
I turn to see Gio's massive frame filling the doorway. His jaw is tight, his green eyes dark with fury.
"I was just—" Steven starts.
"Just what?" Gio takes a step toward us. "Just putting your hands where they don't belong?"
Steven stumbles back, realizing the danger he's in. "Look, man, I didn't mean anything by it." He forces a laugh, trying to smooth over the situation.
Gio rubs his chin, voice dropping to something lethal. "If you ever get the desire to touch her again, you better reconsider. Because I'll take that as a sign you don't need those hands anymore. Got it?"
I exhale, not realizing I'd been holding my breath.
I won't lie, the possessiveness in Gio's voice is kind of hot. Before, I would have probably wanted to throw something at him, but now? Not so much.
Steven's face pales. "Yeah. Got it." He backs away, nearly tripping over his own feet. "I'll just… um… go open the gallery."
I watch him practically run up the stairs, the door slamming behind him.
Gio's eyes flick to mine. He's studying me, waiting to see how I'll react. Probably expecting a fight.
Instead, I turn back to the painting.
"He'll quit, you know," I say, focusing on the delicate brushstrokes, ignoring the way my body still hums from last night. "And then who would I get to help me sell and make money?"
Gio scoffs. "Good. Let him. I don't like him working here anyway. Hire a woman."
I roll my eyes. "Oh, one with big tits so you can watch her all day?"
Gio growls, stepping behind me, his hands settling firmly on my shoulders.
That touch feels right.
"One who I don't have to worry about touching you," he says, his fingers pressing lightly against my skin. "Because in case you haven't noticed, anyone who touches you answers to me."
My brush pauses mid-stroke. I set it down.
I turn to face him. "Is that so?"
A slow smile tugs at his lips.
"This Friday," he says, changing the subject. "My brother's wife is holding a music benefit for local kids. She plays the harp. They raise money for scholarships or some shit."
"Okay…?"
"You're coming with me."
My heart skips. "Um, like a date?"
Gio's eyes narrow. "What? Well, I'm protecting you, remember? Also, think of it as a good excuse to wear that black dress I bought you."
"Oh. Right. Okay then."
I try not to look disappointed.
Shit. I actually am disappointed.
Gio turns to leave but pauses at the bottom of the stairs. "There’s no one."
I blink. "What?"
"There's no one that would be able to take my attention away from you no matter what they look like. So you could have any woman work with you."
He then disappears up the stairs, leaving me blushing furiously in the basement.
I press my cool hands to my burning cheeks.
"Stupid," I mutter, but I'm not sure if I'm talking about him or myself.