Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
GINO
The urge to kiss Juliet is becoming unbearable.
I’ve had it for years, this urge, but have stopped myself every fucking time.
I can see it in her eyes, the wondering if my affection is real, and I want to tell her it is.
I want to tell her I want everything, including lying beside her at night and waking up to her in the morning, the touches and the kisses, and making her coffee just the way she likes it with sweetened, condensed milk.
I know she needs a break too. So I somewhat invaded her privacy, and after dinner I went into her phone to turn off her alarm.
She needs the rest more than anyone. Most nights I’ve been up past midnight, and so has she.
Then she’ll wake up at six in the morning.
So, this is my way of telling her what she has told me: you’ll hurt yourself if you keep doing that.
With her sleeping in, it’s my responsibility to make breakfast. It’s never been solely hers, but she enjoys it, so I let her.
I don’t want to mess up the system she’s got, so I make scrambled eggs with bacon, veggies, and cheese.
I pull out two tortillas to make a burrito and top it off with some chipotle sauce from the fridge.
Glancing at the clock, I notice it’s nearly ten in the morning, which means Juliet really needed the rest, but she will be waking up soon. Even in college, she didn’t sleep past eight.
I start her coffee; I’ve never made it before, but it’s a specific Vietnamese coffee called cà phê s?a ?á. It’s a sweet, iced coffee drink with sweetened condensed milk on the bottom and the coffee on top.
I grab a glass and add some ice and the sweetened condensed milk. Placing the phin filter on top of the glass, I add some of the coffee grounds and then pour the hot water over the coffee to allow it to drip into the glass below.
Once I’ve finished adding the hot water, I hear rushing footsteps, and a smile comes onto my face, knowing who it is.
Juliet runs into the kitchen and stops when she sees me. I turn and lean my back against the counter and cross my arms, smirking. She’s going to ream me out for this.
“Gino, I swear to God if you turned off my alarm—” She’s angry and panting, and I love it.
I just stare at her.
“Why are you smirking? I should be working right now. It’s ten in the morning. I have to review those city tax reports we found for the Russos and make breakfast. I need to get things together for when your sister comes over—” She’s spiraling because she thinks I’m mad.
Fuck it.
I walk to her, grab her face, and look into her eyes, seeing if she’ll hesitate.
She doesn’t, so I press my lips to hers—they’re soft and plump, and I can taste the cherry flavor of her lip balm.
I walk her back, so she is against the counter as I continue to kiss her, and she relaxes into me.
She moans against my mouth, and I pull away to see her face. The blush on her cheeks is adorable.
“Gino,” she whispers, looking at me with trepidation.
“Jules,” I whisper back.
“Why did you do that?” she asks softly.
“Because I wanted to,” I say matter-of-factly.
“But—”
“Did you not like it?”
Was I reading her wrong the last few weeks? I’ve noticed the longing looks and the brushing of our hands. Mostly by me, but she hasn’t pulled away from any of it.
“I-I—really liked it,” she softly laughs.
“Why are you questioning it then?” I ask.
“We’ve never—”
I cut her off. “If you say we’ve never kissed before, we both know you’re lying. Do you not remember the night of my dad’s funeral?”
“I didn’t think you remembered that,” she mumbles.
I look at her flatly. Is she fucking joking? Of course, I remember it; she made one of the worst days of my life better.
I place my hand on her chin and tip her head to look at me.
“Juliet, I remember every second of that night. I remember the scent of the lavender lotion you wore that day. I remember the birthmark you have on your right hip and—” I kiss her softly.
“I remember how fucking perfect your pussy felt around my cock.”
She blushes. “Gino, I—”
“What, Juliet? Don’t you dare say you thought I forgot that night because I have been replaying it almost every day since it happened.”
She turns her head away, biting her lip.
Grabbing her face again, I turn her back to me.
“I have wanted you for the last ten years, and the last two years since that night have been torture. Every moment we’ve had alone, I’ve wanted to ask you about that night.
If you remember, if you regret it. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask because I couldn’t live with myself if you told me you hated it. ”
“I didn’t hate it,” she whispers.
“Thank God for that. Please let me kiss you again, Bella.”
She nods her head, and I lean in.
Kissing her feels like coming home. The biggest regret I have in life when it comes to Juliet is not asking her about that night sooner. If I did, we would have been out of this push and pull we’ve been having for years. I pull back slightly, and she gives me a soft smile.
“What does that mean?” she whispers.
“What?” I reply.
“Bella? You call me that a lot.”
I smile. “It means ‘beautiful’ in Italian.” Her breath hitches when I say it. “And I mean it, Juliet, you are beautiful.”
“Gino, isn't this forbidden? I work for you.”
“Juliet, you’ve never worked for me; we’re partners in this. You’re my equal just like everyone here.”
“That’s not how it works.” She rolls her eyes.
“Jules, when this idea sprouted in college, everyone who signed on was always going to be considered equal to one another. Sure, my name carries the weight, but we are still a team. One that works together and relies on each other. And now Vanessa has joined us, so we can handle anything that comes our way.”
I sigh. “This will piss you off, so take it with a pinch of salt, but every time your paycheck is deposited into your account and you make a purchase, it comes out of mine. I had Drew change your autopay settings.”
“What the fuck? Are you serious? That’s an invasion of privacy,” she yells.
“You say tomayto, I say tomahto.”
She shoves me away and huffs.
She throws up her hands, turning back to me. “You’re impossible; you can’t just pay my bills like that.”
“I have, and I will continue to do so,” I say to her.
“Do you hear yourself? That’s possessive as hell,” she fires back.
“Maybe it’s a little possessive—”
“A little,” she scoffs. “Again, do you hear yourself? My dad warned me, you mafia men are all the same.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I ask.
“It means that no matter how hard you try, you are just like the rest of them. Controlling, impulsive, and ruthless.”
This is not how I expected this conversation to go. Did I catch her off guard with the paying her bills statement? Most definitely. My sister did mention I’d eventually piss her off, so I would need to grovel to get back on her good side. No time like the present, I guess.
“Bella—”
“Don’t call me that,” she snaps, crossing her arms around herself and stepping back.
“I know I shouldn’t be doing that, but I want to do that for you. I want you to be able to do things freely,” I say.
“You should have told me,” she whispers, cowering within herself. She’s headstrong and challenges me in the right way. But right now she isn’t; she’s hurt. I hate seeing her like this.
“Juliet, I’m sorry. You’re fiercely independent, and that’s something I’ve always admired about you. But I want to make sure you are cared for.”
“Did your father do this?” she whispers.
I don’t want to lie to her; my father did pay for things for her, but not to the extent I am.
“He did, somewhat. He paid for anything involving the house; he didn’t pay your bills like I have. The Amex card you have, my father, and now I have been paying the bill on,” I say.
“No wonder I never got a payment request from them. I just thought I paid the balance through auto pay before the billing cycle ended. But seriously, my car payment, Gino? Why?”
“You use your car for house-related things.” She gives me an I dare you to try and cover this up look.
“I didn’t want you to worry about a thing, but I know how important it is to you to keep your independence.
You feel betrayed. I get it. I know I should’ve told you, but you were barely speaking to me for the last two years outside of pleasantries and expectations of when we’re around other people,” I say.
She gives me a flat look. “Gino, I have been speaking to you.”
“Not really,” I sigh. “Sure, we still sometimes have the banter we used to, and you call me out on my bullshit, but that time in the garden a few months ago was the first time we had a proper conversation, and even then it still revolved around work. We used to talk about sports and the shitty dates you’d been on, but now nothing. ”
“People change—”
“People do change,” I cut her off. “But I thought after we slept together, you would have wanted to be with me. Was I wrong?”
She’s quiet for a moment and then whispers, “No.”
“What happened to us, Jules?”
I think back to the morning after, when she completely ignored me and didn’t say a word about it. She left before I woke up, and I didn’t know what to do. The last two years we have been coexisting, not living, and that changes today.
She looks past me, and her eyes widen slightly. “Did you make me coffee?”
I turn and see the coffee I made her on the counter. “Yeah, I thought it was the least I could do since I turned off your alarm.”
“When did you do that?” she says, walking past me to get her coffee.
“Last night, after everyone went home, you left it on the counter when you went to lock the door.”
She nods her head, turning towards me as she takes a sip of her coffee. “Thank you for the coffee, but I’m still mad at you.” I sigh, and she walks out of the kitchen.