Chapter 38 Raven
RAVEN
The sun hits my face, pulling me from sleep. I groan and roll over, every muscle in my body deliciously sore—a common theme now that I'm with Gio every day.
And thinking of him, images from last night flood back—his hands everywhere, his mouth everywhere, the way he took me over and over.
God, that kitchen counter.
My thighs clench at the memory—his hand gripping my hair, the primal way he growled about getting me pregnant, his cock driving into me without restraint. My body flushes hot, remembering how I came screaming his name, my fingernails scratching uselessly against the smooth countertop.
Then there was the second time—the way he pinned me to the bed, my wrists trapped in one of his large hands above my head. The weight of him holding me down, those green eyes locked on mine as he slammed into me. Both brutal and tender all at once.
So yeah, my soreness? Worth it.
I turn to find Gio, but his spot is empty, the sheets cool. He must have been up for a while. I stretch as I sit up and look around his bedroom.
Everything about this place screams wealth and power. I'm still not used to it. Even as I sit in this massive four-poster bed in his bedroom, with an en suite private bathroom bigger than my entire apartment, I still can't get used to it.
Shit, my apartment.
That's gone now, along with the gallery beneath it.
My throat tightens unexpectedly. This is like the fifth time it's happened, where I suddenly remember my losses.
My mom's gallery. Everything I worked to restore, gone in a blaze of smoke and Russian revenge.
I mean, when I stop to think about it, it's all too crazy—which is probably why I don't.
A few months ago, I was restoring paintings in Florence, living a quiet, simple life. Now, I'm in the mansion of a mobster who's… well, protected me, kept me safe, and dealt with anyone who tried to hurt me.
And the craziest part? I don't regret a moment of it.
Gio turned everything upside down. The controlled, careful life I built—he tore through it like a hurricane. Left me raw and exposed. Made me feel things I never thought possible.
My fingers absently trace over the raven tattoo on my wrist. What would mom think of all this? Of me falling for a dangerous man who kills for me without hesitation?
She'd think I'm crazy for sure, but I love him, so if that's crazy, lock me up.
Actually, maybe the only thing I find crazy—yet I seem to want more than I realize—is Gio's talk about putting a baby in me while he's fucking me against kitchen counters.
Babies.
My heart races at the thought. I haven't been taking my pill since he made me throw them away, yet I haven't insisted on protection either. I sometimes feel reckless, caught up in the heat of Gio's intensity, the way he looks at me like I'm everything he's ever wanted.
Part thrill, part terror. I'm not ready to be a mother. Am I? And while Gio seems so certain now, what happens when the novelty wears off? When I'm no longer the mysterious woman connected to his brother's shooter?
Men leave. Men aren't always there. My father proved that over and over.
I stare out the window, watching a bird fly past. Maybe I should be a little smarter about this. Get to the pharmacy and refill my prescription. Just to have options. Just so I'm not carried away completely by this current that is Giovanni Bonventi.
Even as I think it, I know it's probably too late. We've had so much unprotected sex in the last few days alone. My period is due soon. If I'm going to get pregnant, I probably already am.
I just lose all control when he touches me. No one has ever worshipped me the way Gio does. Made me feel both protected and desired. Safe and dangerous all at once.
I climb out of bed and catch my reflection in the floor-length mirror. Dark hair a mess, lips still swollen from his kisses, tiny bruises across my collarbone and inner thighs—marks of his possession.
I look like I've been put through the wringer, but damn, do I feel alive. More myself than I've ever been.
Am I insane, though? Has trauma warped my judgment? Or is this who I've always been beneath the carefully orchestrated surface—someone who craves the edge, the intensity, the raw honesty of a man who makes no apologies for what he is?
I'm so lost in thought I don't hear him until he speaks.
"What's on your mind?"
I turn to find Gio leaning against the doorframe, wearing nothing but low-hanging sweatpants. His muscled chest is covered in tattoos, his dark hair still damp from a shower. His green eyes miss nothing, tracking over my face, reading my thoughts as easily as if they were written on my skin.
I look at Gio. "Oh, nothing. I just... hey, do you mind if I borrow a car? Head downtown for a bit today?"
Gio crosses his arms, his muscles flexing with the movement. "For what?"
I hesitate for a moment, trying to think of something, but my mind won't let me lie to the man I love. "To go to the pharmacy."
Shit. It just came out. I couldn't even stop it.
Gio's jaw tightens, his eyes darkening as he stares at me. "Tell me you're not about to go and try to fix something that isn't broken."
My heart pounds against my ribs. The intensity of his gaze makes my skin flush hot and cold at once. I feel like he sees right through me.
"It's just... no. I, umm," I sigh, rubbing my forehead. "Okay, look. I love you. I do. I don't want to go anywhere. And yeah, sure, you talking about babies is nice, and if I remove the scared part, it sounds perfect—to give you children and raise a family."
"The scared part?" Gio asks, taking a step closer.
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling cold despite the warm morning air drifting through the windows.
"Yeah, you know, actually having them. Being a mom.
And," I hesitate, the words not wanting to come out, "I don't have good male role models in my life.
Once the novelty of me wears off, and I'm not some new shiny object, everything I've seen from said shit role models tells me you'll leave. "
The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Not because they aren't true—they are—but because of the way Gio's face changes.
Gio uncrosses his arms and approaches me. He stops just inches from me, close enough that I can smell the soap scent on his skin.
"You let me in, Raven," he says, his voice low and rough. "So stop pretending like you don't fucking belong to me forever."
I smile despite myself, the warmth of his words washing over me. "Yeah, but—"
Gio interrupts me, cupping my face in his large hands. His thumbs brush over my cheekbones.
"You're mine and I'm yours," he says firmly. "You're my future. And if I put my child in you, then that's exactly where it's meant to be. The only way we part is in death."
I take in what he says, seeing the seriousness in his eyes. The absolute conviction that's there. This man has done so much for me in every possible way. And yet, a small part of me is still unsure. Still afraid to believe that something this intense, this all-consuming, could be permanent.
"Give me your hand," he says suddenly.
I place my hand in his without hesitation, feeling the warmth of his skin. He leads me out of the bedroom and through the house, down a corridor I haven't explored yet. We emerge onto a terrace overlooking a garden that takes my breath away.
A Mediterranean-style landscape extends before us, complete with olive trees and cypress creating natural borders around beds of lavender and rosemary.
A stone path winds through it all, leading to a small fountain at the center.
The morning sunlight catches on the water, sending prisms of light dancing across the stone.
"It's beautiful," I whisper, genuinely awed by the scene.
Gio squeezes my hand. "I was going to wait until I had something more planned, but making you feel at ease and safe with me is my only plan, so..."
He stops speaking, and I turn to find him dropping down to one knee. My heart jumps into my throat as he pulls a small black velvet box from his pocket. When he opens it, I gasp. The diamond inside is enormous, set in platinum, flanked by smaller sapphires that seem to dance in the morning light.
"Ravenna Carvello," he says, his voice steady and sure, "will you marry me?"
The world seems to stop. I stare at the ring, at Gio's face, unable to process what's happening.
"I..." My voice catches, and I realize I'm crying from the overwhelming feeling exploding inside me. "Gio, are you sure? I mean, we haven't known each other that long and—"
"Time doesn't matter," he interrupts, his eyes burning with intensity. "Love does. I will always protect you, provide for you, support you, and keep you safe. I will burn down the world for you if I have to."
He pauses, a hint of vulnerability crossing his face. "But I need you to trust me, Raven. Trust that I'm not like your father or any other men in your life. Trust that when I say forever, I mean it, and the only way I will not be yours is if I no longer walk this earth."
My heart pounds so hard I can barely hear over the rush of blood in my ears.
Every instinct for self-preservation tells me this is too fast, too soon.
But my heart—my heart knows better. My heart recognizes its match in this man who has seen my darkness and embraced it, who offers me not just protection but partnership.
"Yes," I say quietly, then louder, "Yes, I'll marry you, Gio."
His face transforms with a smile as he slips the ring onto my finger—it fits perfectly, of course it does—and rises to his feet in one smooth motion.
Before I can say anything else, he pulls me to him, his mouth crashing down on mine. The kiss is possessive, claiming, a physical manifestation of the vow we've just made. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and I moan against him.
When we break apart, he presses his forehead to mine. "No more talk of pharmacies," he says, his voice rough. "No more doubts. No more thinking we're temporary, no more talk of shiny objects. You're mine now, officially. And if we make a baby, we make a baby."
I look at the ring glittering on my finger, then back at Gio's face—this man who has upended my entire existence, who has shown me a depth of passion I never knew was possible. The last of my doubts dissolve like morning mist.
"I love you," I say simply, because in the end, that's what matters most.
"I love you, too," he replies, the words naturally flowing off his tongue. "Forever."
Standing in the garden, with his ring on my finger and the promise of a future I never dared imagine, I finally understand what it means to be claimed—not as possession, but as treasure. As something precious and irreplaceable.
And I claim him right back.