Chapter 4
Finn
I close the door behind me as I leave Declan's office, and a wave of emotion consumes me. I am shocked, relieved, and angry. Gianna has always had that effect on me, twisting my insides even without trying.
I take out my phone and dial. It rings once, twice.
"What do you need, Mr. Costello?" Bernard, my butler's, voice comes through.
"I need room five on the 12th floor cleaned and ready in the next five minutes," I say. "We will have a guest staying there. Make sure it has everything she will need."
I end the call without waiting for a response. I take the elevator, barely noticing the soft jazz playing. It can't drown out the noise in my head. Gianna has taken permanent residence there.
After everything that happened at the chapel. After she gave herself to me. After she whispered that she was mine. And now she is here, standing in my home like a wounded animal seeking shelter, but still keeping me at arm's length.
I had thought after that night we had an understanding. I had thought I knew where we stood. Apparently, I was wrong.
The elevator door slides open, and I step out, undoing the top few buttons of my shirt before rolling up my sleeves. I walk down the hall and stop outside my waiting room, watching as Gianna paces.
I remain for a minute, watching her, and that night and every other moment we have shared flash across my mind. The way she runs hot then cold. The way she lets me in, then pushes me away.
I feel something for Gianna. Something I don't quite understand. I can't possibly be in love with her.
I shake my head. That isn't it. But what I do know is I never want to let her out of my sight.
I signal Alex to leave, and he nods and heads to the elevator. As I step into the waiting room, Gianna stops pacing.
"Finn," she says, and I don't realize how much I have missed her voice — and this only makes me angrier.
"Follow me," I say, and she hesitates. I run my fingers through my hair, still struggling to hold my temper.
"Where are we going?" she asks, but I close the space between us and grab her hand.
"Follow me."
"Let go!" She shouts, wriggling her wrist in my grip. I set her hand free and throw her over my shoulder instead.
"What are you doing? Put me down!" She struggles against my shoulder, but I say nothing as I carry her out of the room and into the elevator.
She keeps squirming as I press the elevator button to the 12th floor.
"Drop me, Finn. Let go of me. What are you doing?
" She keeps repeating those words as I collect the key card to her room from the guard and open the door.
"Let go!" she yells again as I close the door behind us before gently dropping her. She swipes her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ears, her face flushed with anger and her breathing heavy.
"Are you out of your mind?" she yells, running her finger through her hair to fix its unruliness.
I scoff, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Out of my mind? Gianna, you slept with me. You told me you were mine. And then you show up here acting like I'm supposed to just accept whatever version of yourself you're willing to give me today."
Gianna's chest rises and falls as she gazes into my eyes, but the moment doesn't last. "I had to," she looks away, walking further into the room.
"You always have a reason to push me away. There's always a fucking reason. What was it this time, Gianna?" I ask, not knowing why I am this worked up over her.
"I couldn't risk Vito finding out! He was already suspicious. I had to be careful. I didn't want him to think I had betrayed him."
I scoff, finding her unbelievable. "That's it. That's your excuse. God, Gianna. There's always something. Even in college, you'd let me get close then disappear for weeks. You don't care about anybody but yourself."
"What about you, Finn? This is our lives. This has always been who we are. We are complicated — everything about us is. No matter how we try to lie to ourselves, we can't escape the truth."
"Fuck, Gianna. You just always have the answers, don't you? You talk about how you want to be free. How escaping your family is all you want, but do you know what I think? I think you're lying to yourself."
"Stop, Finn."
"I think you're scared. I think you like the fucking comfort your family name brings you. I think you're a coward, Gianna. You say you want freedom, but you won't fight for it. You won't fight for us."
"Stop. Just stop, Finn. Stop this act." Hurt flashes across her face, and I regret what I've said.
"Stop acting like we mean something when you keep proving we don't! You run when things get hard. You always have."
I close the distance between us, and she instinctively steps back. I don't give her the space she wants. "You're right," I say. "Maybe we don't mean anything to each other."
I take another step forward. She backs away again until her back hits the closet behind her. Her breath catches, chest rising and falling like she is trying to keep control but failing.
I can feel the warmth of her skin, and for a second, the silence between us says everything words can't.
Her familiar scent fills my nostrils. A delicate blend of warm vanilla and fresh jasmine. We are so close that I can make out the outline of her lips. She looks up at me with those hazel eyes, and flashes from that night at the chapel cloud my mind.
The sound of her moans, the way her fingers had dug into my muscles, the softness of her skin against my touch.
I lean closer, and she becomes flushed. This time, it isn't because she is angry.
"We don't mean anything to each other, and yet I remember how you told me to fuck you that night. How you screamed my name. And here you are, Gianna, in my home, asking me to protect you."
I whisper into her ear, and she lets out a breath.
My eyes move to her neck, and I trace my finger across her neckline. She grows rigid under my touch, and the anger I feel slowly disappears, replaced by something else. Want, desire. I want to feel the taste of her lips. I want her to moan and call my name like that night.
I lean in, my lips hovering over hers, when she places her hand on my chest to create distance. "Stop," she breathes, walking toward the door. She opens it, but I am already moving. Already too close.
I close the door shut with one hand. She spins around, startled. My hand hits the door beside her head with a dull thud, caging her in.
She inhales sharply, annoyed, maybe, or even affected. I can't tell which anymore. "What are you doing?" she breathes, searching my eyes.
"Tell me you don't think about that night," I say, voice low, throat tight. "Look me in the eyes and lie."
She shoves me again, but I don't budge. I lean in until our lips are a breath apart. I can feel her body vibrating with tension, rage, restraint, and want. I don't touch her, not yet. I let the silence settle between us.
"Don't," Gianna warns, her voice too rough. I reach for her waist, slowly. She slaps my hand away and tries to duck under my arm, but I catch her. She twists, nails digging into my shoulder. I hold her tighter, our breathing ragged. She slaps at my chest and pushes against me again.
We struggle — hands, arms, limbs in a brief chaotic contact — until I have her flush against me.
Our faces are close again. Her lips part. She is breathing hard, eyes wild. She grabs a fistful of my shirt. For a second, I think she is going to push me away again. Instead, she just stands there, trembling.
"Stop it, Finn," she breathes hard, and I look away from her, taking a deep breath.
I have to leave. I take a step back, and she puts her hand up. "Don't come any closer," she says, biting her bottom lip — and that simple act makes me want to abandon whatever gentleman is left in me.
I take her hand and place the room's key card in her palm. "This is where you'll be staying. Don't let anyone in unless it's me."
She looks from the key card to my eyes, then around the room. "Declan is allowing me to stay?" she asks, surprise and relief swimming in her voice.
"Yeah, you don't have to worry about Vito."
"Did he say why he's allowing me to stay?" she asks again. I sigh.
"I convinced him because I wanted you to stay."
Gianna blinks and says nothing, and my eyes go to her lips again. I swallow hard and look away. I reach behind her and open the door. "If you need anything, call me," I say, stepping out of her room.
She nods, avoiding my eyes. I begin to walk away when she stops me. "I need my phone and my suitcase."
"Alex will bring them up to you," I answer, and she closes the door.
Instead of returning to work, I enter my room next to hers and rest my head on the door as I close it shut. Thoughts of Gianna keep slipping into my mind. It is always Gianna. Always her.
"What are you doing, Finn? What is wrong with you?" I scold myself before peeling off the door.
I take my phone out and text Alex to take her things to her before collapsing on my bed. I undo more of my shirt's buttons because I feel hot. The sun has disappeared from the sky, and the night breeze slides through my windows, but I still feel hot.
"Fuck," I whisper and get out of bed.
The water is cold as it slides down my head to the rest of my body, and I close my eyes, letting it soothe my tensed muscles — but even a cold shower can't stop my thoughts of Gianna.