Chapter Three
Gia
I chew nervously on my nails as I watch the movers carry the last of the boxes out of the apartment, trying not to think of how I got to this point.
Christ, all it took was two glasses of wine and a few lousy chess moves to sign my freedom away to him. This is what I get for being reckless, but the man was wicked for making a deal with me when it was clear I wasn’t in my right mind.
I kissed him, or maybe he kissed me. It’s all a little fuzzy on who moved first.
What I do remember with clarity is the way his lips felt against mine and the sharp intake of his breath. And his scent, Christ, I could have spent all night with my head against his chest just breathing him in.
“God,” I cry out, dropping to a crouch and burying my hands in my hair, fighting back the urge to scream. I can’t freaking believe I kissed the man, only for him to pull back and create distance between us.
And now, how the hell am I going to face him?
I don’t look up when I hear a set of footsteps step into the shoe-box sized bedroom I’ve been living in for the last couple of months. Still, I recognize Sofia’s scent when she stops next to me. “Sooo…”
“What?” I ask, my voice muffled by my knees.
“Are we going to talk about why you’re moving in with Dante after you turned down my husband’s offer to buy you a condo?”
“I lost a bet!”
“You what?”
I slowly lift my head and meet my sister’s eyes, mouth set in a pout. "I drank a little too much last night and made a bet with Dante."
I can see Sofia’s effort to fight the smile threatening to break. “And what bet was that?”
“He wanted me to move in with him since his penthouse is closer to the theatre, but I told him I didn’t want any handouts, so he proposed a bet. If I beat him at chess--”
“Chess?” Sofia asks before throwing her head back in laughter. I watch morosely as she laughs at me, dabbing at tears at the corners of her eyes. “Are you kidding me?”
My eyes fall back to the floor with its worn, faded carpet that must’ve been a pretty blue at some point in its production but is now faded and gray. “He totally played me.”
“Like a fiddle,” she laughs. "How I would’ve loved to be a fly on the wall when you woke up this morning. I bet it was awkward, wasn’t it?”
I shake my head, “He was gone when I woke up.” Something I was both pleased and annoyed about.
I woke up with a hangover and a crystal-clear memory of everything that happened the night before.
How I'd nuzzled the man's neck like a touch-starved kitten and kissed his throat, body aching with need for him--kissing him and hoping he'd put out the fire burning inside of me.
My first kiss.
The memory of it all was enough to tempt me into living out the rest of my life in his guest room, but when I gathered enough courage to face him, he’d already left for work.
My bodyguard was waiting in the living room with a note from Dante reminding me that I’d agreed to move in with him.
He’d send movers to pick up my boxes from my apartment at noon.
I was pissed and embarrassed and had every intention of calling him to retract the bet, but when I dug into my purse to grab my phone, my fingers brushed against something else. An envelope. And then whatever thoughts I had of calling Dante flew out of the window.
Christ, even now, thinking about that envelope is enough to send my mood plummeting to the depths of hell.
“Gia, are you okay?”
Sofia must sense a shift in my mood because the smile on her face disappears as she kneels next to me, worry knitting her brows.
"Hey, if you don't want to live with Dante, you don't have to.
No one cares about some stupid bet," she whispers, cupping both of my cheeks when I try to look away.
"Come live with me and Matteo. You know the house is big and has tons of room. He won't mind."
“It’s not… I don’t mind living with Dante,” I say and realize that I don’t. I may be attracted to the man in ways I never have with anyone else in my life, but other than my sisters, there is no one I trust more. “His place is spacious and close to work.”
“Then what is it? Why do you suddenly look scared?”
I consider telling Sofia the thing that has been bothering me for a while now, but Christ, how do I tell my sister, who was kidnapped a few months ago, that I may or may not be in a similar kind of danger?
That I have a stalker!
For months now, I've been receiving letters.
It started when I traveled to Europe for a ballet tour.
I would find flowers and white envelopes in my dressing room, each letter signed with a hand-drawn rose rather than a name.
The letters were lengthy and filled with admiration from a fan.
They appeared right after every show, and at first, I was flattered.
But then something started to change, and the letters got intense and a little terrifying.
I didn't report them and decided I'd wait until I was back in New York and didn't have to deal with a crazed fan in a foreign country.
But the letters didn’t stop when I came back.
After every show, I would find flowers in my dressing room along with the letters in white envelopes, as intense as ever. I considered reporting it to the police, but the letters weren't threatening, just over the top.
A part of me thought I could ignore it. The crazed fan clearly knew where I worked, but that didn’t make him dangerous.
But then I received another letter and flowers at my apartment yesterday, right as I was leaving to attend Elena’s wedding party.
I knew right away who the flowers were from when the delivery guy handed them to me, along with another envelope.
I didn’t want to think much about it, so I just shoved the envelope into my purse and did my best to forget about it.
Still, it scares me that this person knows where I live.
I stare at Sofia’s wide eyes and consider telling her all this, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
Sofia has worked so hard to keep us all safe and happy.
After everything she’s been through—the arranged marriage, the danger, fighting our parents to protect us—she finally has peace with Matteo.
She deserves her hard-won happiness, and I won’t be the one to shatter it with my problems.
When someone raps on the open door, I look up to find my little sister, Bella, and our twin cousins standing just outside since the room is too tiny to hold us all.
“Everything is packed, and the van is ready to leave… Hey, why are you two kneeling on the floor?” Arianna asks, her brows knitting with concern as her eyes shift from Sofia to me. “Is everything okay? Gia?”
I nod, pushing down my own issues. I can't tell them about my stalker.
Everyone is still on edge after Sofia's then Elena's kidnapping. There is so much that has happened lately, and for the first time in a while, it feels like everything’s calming down. I don’t want to disturb this period of peace with news of my stalker.
Besides, he’ll probably leave me alone when he finds out I’m living with Dante Rossi. Everyone knows the Rossis are not to be toyed with. Plus, he’ll have a harder time sending me letters and flowers at Dante’s place.
Everything’s fine.
The stalker thing will disappear on its own. No need to worry about it.
“I’m just nervous,” I say, giving the girls what I hope comes off as a genuine smile. “Living with a guy I have a crush on makes me nervous. I’m not sure I’ll know how to act.”
Sofia doesn’t seem completely convinced as she doesn’t return my smile but the other girls bite on that little tidbit, as I knew they would.
“So, you admit you have a crush on Dante?”
“I knew it!”
“You were clearly lying when you said you were just friends.”
“Does he know?”
I laugh, getting to my feet and pulling Sofia up with me. There are questions in her eyes, but I am grateful when she doesn't voice them. Instead, she lets the girls tease me about my crush as we finally exit the tiny bedroom and then the apartment.
With the boxes on their way to Dante’s place, we decide to go out to eat since it’s Bella’s last night in the city before she has to return to her boarding school.
She had leave for just the weekend so she could attend Elena’s party.
It’s been hard on her with everything that’s happened while she’s been so far away.
The fear for her older sisters hit her harder because she felt so helpless, stuck at school, unable to be there for us.
She needed the weekend off as much as the rest of us did.
We eat and chat, talking about nothing and everything. The girls tease me about Dante, and I deflect with humor, but I’m careful not to reveal too much. I’ve never felt half the things I feel for him, and it scares me just how much I want to be with him.
Later, Sofia’s driver drops me off at Dante’s apartment, and when I go up, it’s empty. I figure he's still at work, so I head straight to my room, stopping at the door when I see the mountain of boxes flooding the room.
“Oh God,” I sigh, leaning against the door as I stare at my luggage, uncertain of where the hell I am going to begin.
I realize that I am too tired to even start thinking about it.
Technically, I don’t have to go to the theatre until tomorrow afternoon.
I can worry about what’s where tomorrow, but right now, I just need a warm, relaxing bath to end what has been an amazing weekend, but one full of exhausting changes.
I glance around the room, trying to remember which box I packed my towels in. Another look at the mountain of boxes is enough to convince me that I won’t be finding any tonight.
I step out of my room and look down the hall to the last door—Dante’s bedroom.
I chew on my bottom lip as I consider grabbing one of his towels, but I’m not sure how I feel about walking into the man’s bedroom without him around.
That would be some kind of invasion of privacy, right?
Still, a part of me can't resist the thought of being in his personal space. I’ve avoided his bedroom since he moved in—we toured the apartment together when he was looking, and I even helped him pick out furniture and décor.
But being in there now, in his private sanctuary, makes me imagine things I can’t have. Things I shouldn’t want.
He won’t mind.
I’ll just…poke around a little and if he comes home while I’m still in there, I’ll just tell him I was looking to borrow a towel. He’ll understand.
As I approach his room, my brows wing up when I realize the door is cracked open a bit. I freeze when I hear sounds coming from inside the room. I was certain the apartment was empty. Was he sleeping? Surely he heard me come in, right?
I inch closer to the door to peek in…and I gulp.
I slap a hand to my mouth in time to stop a gasp as I rake my eyes over the man lying naked on the wide king bed with one arm slung behind his head and the other hand wrapped around his swollen cock, eyes closed as he strokes himself slowly.
Oh.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
I should probably…leave.
The most logical thing to do is to slowly back away from the door, run to my room, and bury my head under the covers instead of just standing there, watching my "friend" masturbate. Christ, even thinking the word has heat climbing up my cheeks.
And yet, I can’t look away.
A warm knot settles in my stomach as I take him in, feeling breathless just looking at him.
Between those muscular thighs and under a perfectly defined V-line is a large cock, thick and veiny.
As is the rest of him. His skin is bronzed, and he’s so big.
My eyes scale over those thick, muscular arms and broad shoulders to his chest covered with long, dark lines of tattoos that cover both pecs.
I want to linger and study them, but I find my eyes dropping lower, over the lines of his abs and back to the hard length tightly clasped in his left hand.
It’s so big.
Logically, I know what a cock is supposed to look like. I came across several explicit pictures and videos online when I was a teen and curious, but none of that prepared me for…this. For him.
Or for the reaction that sparks in my body from watching Dante jerk off.
I swallow hard as I watch his hand move over his erection, biting into my lower lip when I feel slickness flood my panties. The muscles in his arms flex as he moves his hand, pre-cum bubbling over the top of his cock and slicking down that large hand.
My mouth waters, and…it makes no freaking sense, but I find myself wondering what he tastes like. What kind of noises would he make if I replaced that hand with my mouth and tongue?
My nipples grow tight, pressing against my top, aching with need for relief.
I place a hand over my chest in an attempt to rub the ache away, but it doesn't work.
The ache between my legs is no better, and it's tempting to slide a hand under my skirt and just rub the spot. No, that would be crazy. I don’t know anything about sex beyond what I have seen online.
I was always too shy to watch anything in its entirety, but now, I want to touch myself while secretly watching the man I have a crush on. What the hell is wrong with me?
Leave, Gia.
Walk away…
I squeeze my thighs together as the ache between them intensifies, pinching my nipples between my fingers as I watch him stroke his cock faster, his gasping breath filling the room. He speeds up, groaning as he thrusts into his hand, and my own breathing grows labored as I watch him.
He’s close to orgasming. I can tell with the way his hips lift off the bed and the way his hand moves faster, the veins in his forearm popping and his voice strangled when he calls, “Gia!”
My head whips up, and I freeze when I find those hazel eyes, a stormy brown with the hazel flecks almost gone…looking right at me.
Gia.
A groan rips from his chest, and his muscles seize. I watch, dumbfounded, as he throws his head back, hand clenching his spurting cock, shooting cum all over his palm and stomach. He groans raggedly as his hand slows its movement until he stills. Then, those half-shut eyes find mine once again.
“Gia.”
My legs move before my brain can process my actions, horrified by my body’s reaction to what I just saw. I’m mortified that I allowed myself to just stand there and watch him. I can’t move fast enough, and I don’t breathe until I’m in my room.
How the hell am I going to face Dante now?