26. Genoveva
Chapter 26
Genoveva
I nearly jump off the couch when the bedroom door flies open with a bang. Gianni bursts in, his face alight with wild excitement. I put down the book, to ask what’s wrong, but before I can react, he's across the room in two long strides, sweeping me off my feet.
The book falls straight out of my hands as I fight for balance, my hands now clutching at his shoulders.
"We've got 'em, Genoveva!" he whoops, spinning me around. His muscular arms crush me against his chest while we whirl, the room blurring into a dizzying kaleidoscope—my heart races, matching the frenetic energy radiating from every pore of his being.
"Gianni!" I gasp, clinging to his broad shoulders. "What's happened?"
He sits me down but keeps his hands on my waist, his fingers digging into my flesh with barely contained exuberance, and all I see is pure, unadulterated joy in his eyes.
"We've found them," he growls, his gravelly voice dropping to a near whisper. "Greco's family. Their hideout."
My breath catches in my throat at the mention of Greco - the man who murdered me. By now, I’m aware of how long and hard Gianno has tried to find a lead on him, and now, we might finally be close to exacting our revenge.
I’m about to celebrate when the predatory gleam in Gianni's eyes gives me pause. He said he found Greco’s family . So why are we so damn thrilled?
"Where is Greco?" I ask, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart.
A slow, dangerous smile spreads across Gianni's face, the thin scar on his chin stretching white. "I don’t know. But his family is in a little villa outside Tuscany. Isolated. Vulnerable. Wife, three kids."
His grip on my waist tightens, pulling me closer. I can feel the coiled tension in his body, like a spring ready to unwind with devastating force.
"We move tonight," he continues, his words thrumming with anticipation. "By dawn, Greco will know what it means to lose everything he holds dear."
The venom in his tone makes my stomach churn. This is the man I love, but at this moment, I barely recognize him. I take a step back, searching his face for answers.
"Gianni," I say, my voice firm despite the tremor in my hands, "what exactly are you planning?"
His eyes flash, a mix of surprise and irritation at my questioning. "What needs to be done. An eye for an eye."
I shake my head, my stomach twisting. "But why his family? They're innocent in this."
Gianni's jaw clenches, his voice hardening to steel. "Innocent? They've profited from our suffering, living in luxury while you..." He pauses, pain flickering across his face. "While you were dead because of Greco's actions."
He begins to pace, his movements tight and restless. "You died, Genoveva. He took you from me. And now, I'll take everything from him. He will feel the pain I felt. His wife will feel the pain you felt. His children will lose a future, the way Greco chose to steal our future."
I gasp, unable to feel anything but shock. This isn't justice he's after - it's revenge, pure and ugly. I watch him, my heart aching for the man I know is still in there, buried beneath layers of pain and rage.
"Gianni," I whisper, reaching for his hand. "This isn't you. This is Hades talking, not the man I love."
His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see a flicker of doubt. But then his gaze hardens again, resolve setting in like concrete. "No, my love. This is who I am now, and this is what I must do now to make things right."
I feel my knees shake, and my hands tremble with rage. How can I make him see that this path leads only to more darkness?
Disappointment surges through me, and I step forward, a finger on his chest. "Gianni, listen to yourself," I say through gritted teeth, my voice barely above a whisper. "You're talking about hurting innocent people, even children . Is that who you've become?"
I step closer. "We can't build our future on the suffering of others. It's not right, and deep down, YOU know that."
Gianni's fists clench at his sides, knuckles white with tension. His jaw works silently. He’s a proud man, but beyond that pride, I see an inkling of doubt beginning to form.
"You don't understand, Genoveva," he growls, but there's a hint of uncertainty beneath the anger. "This is how our world works. It's the only language they understand."
I reach out, gently touching his arm. "No, it's not. We can be better than that. We have to be."
His gaze meets mine, conflicted and stormy. "And what would you have me do?" he asks, voice low and rough. "Let them go unpunished?"
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "I want you to choose justice over vengeance. To be the man I know you can be, not the monster they expect. I want you to go after Greco himself and leave his family behind."
Gianni frowns, shaking his head.
I press on, my voice gaining strength as I appeal to the part of Gianni I know still exists beneath the hardened exterior. "Remember who you were before Hades, amore mio. The man who protected the weak, who valued honor above all else. That soul isn't lost, it's still here." I place my hand over his heart, feeling its rapid beat beneath my palm.
"You left a piece of yourself in the underworld, but not all of it. I see glimpses of the real you every day, fighting to break free from Hades' influence." My eyes search his, imploring. "Don't let vengeance consume what's left of your humanity."
Gianni's breath catches, his shoulders sagging slightly as if the weight of his intentions is finally settling upon him. "I... I don't know how to let this go, Genoveva," he admits, voice barely above a whisper. "The anger, it's all I have left sometimes."
I cup his face in my hands, my touch gentle but firm. "No, it's not. You have me. You have us. And you have the strength to choose a better path."
As I speak, I see the change in his eyes - a softening, a flicker of recognition. The storm of emotions begins to calm, replaced by a dawning realization.
"Christ," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "What was I thinking? Targeting children... that's not who I am. That's not who we are."
My heart leaps at his words, hope blossoming in my chest. "No, it's not," I agree softly. "We're better than that."
Gianni's eyes meet mine, filled with remorse and a vulnerability I rarely see. "I'm sorry, Genoveva. Truly. Hades... his influence runs deeper than I realized." His voice cracks slightly. "I need your help to fight this darkness."
I pull him close, feeling the tension leave his body as he wraps his arms around me. "You have it, always," I whisper fiercely. "We'll face this together."
Gianni steps closer, his eyes locking onto mine. The remorse and longing I see there make my heart ache. His hand reaches out, hesitating for a moment before gently cupping my cheek.
"Genoveva," he murmurs, his gravelly voice thick with emotion. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, but..."
I lean into his touch, feeling the familiar calluses on his palm. "Shh," I whisper, placing my finger on his lips. "We've been through too much to let this come between us."
The air between us grows steamier now. I can smell that cologne on his skin, the aftershave on his jawline, the crisp freshness on his laundry.
He smells like himself. This smell - I missed it the most in the underworld.
“Gianni,” I whisper, my hand now resting on his chest, my eyes lost in the depths of that smoldering look he’s giving me.
Without warning, he pulls me to him, his lips crashing onto mine with a fierce urgency. I respond immediately, my hands fisting in his shirt as I press myself against him. The kiss is all-consuming, desperate and hungry, as if we're trying to devour each other whole.
His hands roam my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I taste the bitterness of espresso on his tongue and the roughness of his lips against mine.
When his hands slip beneath my shirt, strong palms grazing my waist, I swear I taste the thrill I’m about to feel. His touch is electric, sending sparks racing across my skin, promising to make me feel alive.
"Genoveva," he growls, his voice husky with desire. "You're everything to me."
I arch into him, craving more contact. "Show me," I whisper, my breath hitching as his fingers trail higher.
Our lips meet again, but this time, it's different - slower, deeper, more intense. The kiss turns molten, stoking the flames of our desire. I lose myself in the sensation, the taste of him, the feel of his body against mine.
Suddenly, I'm moving backwards. Gianni guides me, his strong hands steady on my hips until my back hits the wall. He cages me in, one hand braced beside my head, the other still exploring beneath my shirt.
"Gianni," I gasp as he breaks the kiss to trail his lips down my neck. At the same time, his hands now reach the cups of my breasts, and he gently traces the outline of my bra, going agonizingly slow.
The world beyond us fades away. There's only this - his touch, his scent, the sound of our ragged breathing. I thread my fingers through his hair, holding him close as he nips at my pulse point.
My head spins, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Part of me wonders if we should slow down and talk more about what just happened. But a larger part doesn't want to think at all—just feel.
"Is this okay?" Gianni murmurs against my skin, ever mindful of my boundaries despite his obvious desire.
I nod, unable to form words, as his hand skims into my bra and flicks over my nipple, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "Yes," I finally manage. "Don't stop."
I gasp as Gianni's kisses trail lower and protest when his hand is out from beneath my shirt.
“Fiesty,” he laughs, observing my discontentment.
Gently, his hands slide down to grip my thighs. I stood up straighter, anticipating his next move with bated breath. When he drops to his knees, he looks up at me with a hunger that makes my knees weak.
"Hold onto me," he growls, his gravelly voice sending shivers down my spine. My fingers tighten in his hair. Another hand rests on his shoulder.
I barely have time to brace myself before he flicks his tongue across my slit. I throw my head back, my hips bucking involuntarily as muffled cries of pleasure escape my lips. His hands grip my thighs tighter, and he begins to flick his tongue over my clit, hot and insistent.
My head is now permanently against the wall as waves of pleasure crash over me. My legs tremble, threatening to give out, but Gianni's strong hands keep me upright as he grips my thighs with extreme pressure.
"God, Gianni," I pant, my hips rocking involuntarily against his face.
He responds by redoubling his efforts, his tongue working me into a frenzy. I feel alive and electrified, every nerve ending and singing with sensation. The tension builds, coiling tighter and tighter in my core.
When I think I can't take anymore, Gianni slams a hand on my stomach, bucking me against the wall, and instantly slides another finger inside me, curling it just right. The dual stimulation pushes me over the edge, making me go insane.
“Fuck, Gianni,” I moan and clench his hair tighter as my legs begin to shake. My back lurches off the wall, but Gianni pushes me back again with his hand on my abdomen. His tongue flicks harder, his finger rams faster. My body convulses, waves of ecstasy washing over me as I cry out his name.
As the aftershocks subside, I slump against the wall, breathing heavily. Gianni rises, pressing a tender kiss to my lips. Without warning, he lifts me, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.
"Bed. Now," he manages between kisses, while I fumble with the buttons of his shirt and he with the zip of my dress.
We move in a tangle of limbs and half-shed clothing, desire making us clumsy and urgent. By the time we hit the mattress, we're both naked, skin sliding against skin.
Gianni positions himself above me, his dark eyes locking with mine. I feel him at my entrance, hard and ready. He enters me slowly, deliberately, filling me inch by delicious inch. My breath catches in my throat.
"More," I whisper, my hands sliding down to grip his firm ass. I pull him closer, urging him deeper.
A low growl escapes his throat as he complies, burying himself to the hilt. For a moment, we're perfectly still, savoring the connection.
Then Gianni begins to move.
His thrusts start slow and measured but quickly build in intensity. I match his rhythm, my hips rising to meet each powerful stroke. The bed creaks beneath us, a counterpoint to our ragged breathing and muffled moans.
"God, Genoveva," Gianni pants, his gravelly voice thick with desire. "You feel so good."
I can't form words, lost in the sensations overwhelming me. Gianni's large hands grip my waist, holding me steady as he drives into me. The familiar sensation of pleasure begins to build low in my belly.
The fucking takes on an almost hypnotic quality. The world narrows to just us - the slap of skin on skin, the building pressure, the shared breaths. Gianni's eyes never leave mine. He lurches up, his cock hitting against the underside of my clit.
The tension mounts, a white-hot point of pleasure spreading through my body. My back arches involuntarily, my head pressing into the pillow as the sensation crests. With a cry, I shatter, waves of ecstasy washing over me.
Gianni follows moments later, his rhythm faltering as he finds his release. He collapses onto me, our bodies trembling with aftershocks.
As our breathing slowly returns to normal, Gianni rolls to his side, pulling me with him. I nestle into the crook of his arm, my head resting on his chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat soothes me, and I feel the tendrils of sleep beginning to tug at my consciousness.
"Ti amo, Genoveva," Gianni murmurs, his voice thick with exhaustion and emotion.
I trace lazy patterns on his skin, savoring the warmth of his body against mine. "I love you too," I whisper back, my eyes growing heavy.
Gianni's arms tighten around me, and I feel the press of his lips against my forehead. The gesture is tender and protective, and for a moment, I allow myself to forget about all that’s happened.
As I drift off, I can't shake the feeling that something is waiting for me in the depths of my subconscious. The thought of the underworld flickers at the edges of my mind, a dark reminder of what's missing in my life. As I fall asleep, I dream.
Hades stands above me, arms outstretched. “Come home, Genoveva,” his dangerous voice says, lulling me to sleep.
And for some strange reason, I feel at peace.