by L. K. Shaw
“Thank you,” I say.
He tilts his head. “For what?”
“For caring about me. For not judging me.”
Giovanni gazes down at me, his expression one that brings those feelings rushing forward again. “You’re the easiest person in the world to care for. And I’d never judge you. You’re perfect just the way you are.”
I swallow the lump growing in my throat and clear it. “Let me grab my purse, and I’ll be ready.”
He nods, and I escape into the kitchen. For a moment, I stand there, needing to breathe before I can face Gio again. Being in love is scary. It comes with so many things I have to be ready for. Because I want this forever. Does he? Caring for someone isn’t the same as loving them. He’s never said the words. Neither have you, a tiny voice scolds.
Chapter 24
Giovanni
* * *
Pierce, Jacob, and I slide into the back of the town car, and Aurelio closes the door. I glance around, trying not to be obvious that I’m taking it in. It’s surreal being on this side of the glass divider.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never once sat in the backseat just to see what it feels like?” Jacob asks.
My cheeks actually heat. I guess I hadn’t hid my interest well enough. “I was always worried about getting caught,” I confess sheepishly.
He chuckles, and even Pierce cracks a tiny grin. Jacob reaches into the dry bar and pulls out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He pours two fingers into the first one and passes it to me before filling his own.
“Cheers,” he says and clinks it against mine.
I glance in Pierce’s direction. I’m sure I’ve seen him with a glass in his hand at some point.
“I don’t drink before a meeting,” is all he says.
Keeping my questions to myself, I turn back to Jacob who’s sipping his. “What exactly is the plan?” I ask him.
“Petrosyan has agreed to meet to discuss his arrangement with Wójcik. I’ll lay out our demands and the consequences for ignoring them. It’s then up to him to decide what choice he’ll make,” he explains.
“And if he makes the wrong choice?”
“Then we show him the error of his ways.” This comes from Pierce with a growl.
“Any word on the Irish and how they’re handling the Polish?”
“Donnelly is keeping tight-lipped. He accepted the initial plan, but his strategies are only known to those close to him. He doesn’t share information with anyone outside his immediate circle, which certainly rules us out,” Jacob says with a hint of amusement. “I’m sure Cormac and his sons know, but they respect, and probably fear, the elder Donnelly enough that they’re not saying anything either. If they need anything from us, they only have to ask. Although, the stubborn bastard would probably rather die first.”
The remainder of the ride is quiet. Jacob and I finish our drinks while his cousin sits back in his seat. An emotionless mask slips over his face that only gets more blank the closer we get to our destination. It’s an eerie sight, because I would have said he didn’t exhibit any expression on a normal day. But this is the face of a cold-blooded killer.
Pierce is one of the most feared men in the entire organization, as well as outside it. Stories have circulated about him and the death he brings to those who cross him. He’s Jacob’s quasi bodyguard and enforcer for a reason. I, for one, am glad he’s on our side.
Finally, we arrive in front of the restaurant on a busy street. Crowds of people walk the streets. Apparently, the Armenians aren’t taking any chances. They want witnesses. As if they’ll save him if shit goes south. Jacob doesn’t seem concerned.
The back door opens and he steps out first into the blazing hot afternoon sun. He pauses a moment, glancing around while he buttons his suit jacket with a leisurely pace and then tugs down his shirt sleeves. Finally, he moves away from the vehicle a few paces, and Pierce follows behind. He takes two steps to the side, and it’s my turn.
I mimic Jacob’s movements, no doubt a poor imitation, even with the damn cast finally off. I’d found a cheap pair of cufflinks at some big box store that looked a little like his. It had taken me an hour to figure out how they worked.
The three of us scan the area and wait, while two other men exit the town car behind ours. Once assembled, the five of us enter through the front door. Inside, it’s cool, the scent of pepper and cinnamon permeating the air around us. The interior is crowded with patrons scattered at various tables. I have no idea who we’re looking for, but I assume Jacob does, because he immediately heads for a table near the middle of the restaurant.
Seated at it is two suit-clad men who glance up at our arrival. The one who appears to be the elder of the two rises.
“Mr. Ricci, I’m sorry to hear about your father’s death. He was well-respected in our business,” the man greets Jacob with a handshake.
“Thank you. He is missed.”
“Please,” he gestures to the chair opposite his. “Have a seat and tell me how I can help you.”
The two of them sit while the rest of us remain standing in a close horseshoe shape behind Jacob. Pierce is tense next to me. I can almost feel the rigidity pulsating off him.
“I understand you are in the business of buying and selling of a particular type of property from Casimir Wójcik,” Jacob says, laying it right out in the open.
“We dabble in a variety of capital ventures,” the Armenian leader says coyly.
“As do we. However, this is a specific commodity directly from the Polish, as you well know what I’m referring to.”
The other man’s expression remains blank. “I understand you made an agreement to stay out of the Polish’s business matters.”
Jacob raises a single finger from where he’d folded them on the table in front of him. “I agreed to remain neutral with the Polish. You and I have no such agreement.”
“I believe that is what you Americans call splitting hairs,” he says, a note of anger entering his voice.
“Perhaps. But it doesn’t change the fact the I’m here with a proposition for you.”
The Armenian leans back in his chair with a scowl. His colleague remains nearly as rigid as Pierce, but doesn’t evoke the same deathly stillness.
“And what proposition is that?”
“I propose that you cease any purchases of this particular commodity and spend your money elsewhere.” Jacob pauses. “Today.”
“Or?” he asks.
Being at his back, I can only imagine the expression on my brother’s face. But he does unfold his hands and briefly show his palms in an almost helpless gesture. “I’m sure you’ll understand that we will have no choice but to engage in more…drastic measures in hopes of changing your mind.”
The man’s jaw tightens and he glares. “I see,” he says. “I will need a few days to consult with my colleagues.”
“Unfortunately, this deal has a twelve hour expiration date.”
Hatred continues to burn from the Armenian leader’s eyes. His nostrils flare, and I almost expect his teeth to crack next. “You’ll have an answer in ten,” he snaps.
Jacob nods succinctly. “Excellent. You know how to reach me.” He rises from his seat. “Have a pleasant afternoon, gentleman.”
The four of us part, providing a gap for him to pass through. I keep my eyes locked onto the two men and slowly back away before turning and following behind Jacob. Our two soldiers fall in line behind me while Pierce takes up the rear. We climb back into the town car, and I heave out a breath. That had been intense.
I turn to Jacob. “Do you think he’ll comply with your demands?”
He cocks his head. “Who knows? My gut says he’s willing to take us on in the hopes they can outmaneuver us. Because they certainly don’t outnumber us. But he also has to consider that we’ve managed to take out nearly the entire Russian organization in a few short months.”
“If he ignores your warning? Then what?” I ask.
“War,” Pierce sa
ys with steel in his voice.
Chapter 25
Francesca
* * *
I flip the studio light on, and blink against the brightness. It’s a veritable photographer’s dream in here. Flash lights, back drops, and props are scattered around the room just waiting to be brought out and played with. The buzz of excitement is like a contact high. I’m giddy with anticipation as I step into the room.
“So this is where the magic happens, huh?” Gio asks from behind me as he follows me in, his gaze traveling around.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” I gush, doing a little spin as I dart from here to there, checking everything out and envisioning how I’m going to put all these pieces to use. My mind flashes with image after image.
Gio sitting here.
Gio sitting there.
Gio lying down on the bed.
That puts a whole new set of images in my brain. Ones that make me hot and flushed. I cast a quick glance at him from the corner of my eye, hoping he doesn’t notice how flustered I’m getting, but he’s still wandering around looking at everything. He reaches out to touch a flash lamp, but just before his fingers make contact, he pulls them back. It’s really expensive equipment.
I set my camera down on one of the tables and start to walk around as well, trying to get an idea of the kinds of shots I want to take and where I should start setting up. There are several backdrops to choose from, and I thumb through each one, my gaze darting between it and Gio. I finally settle on the muslin. It’s a great neutral, workable color that will go well with his dark hair and skin tone.
Once I have the backdrop ready, I glance around for a stool. My steps stutter at Gio standing only a few feet away, staring with a grin on his face.
“What?” I can’t help but chuckle.
“Nothing,” he says with a mock look of innocence. “I’m just watching you be adorable. I love seeing how excited you are.”
I cross the few short distance between us and lean into him, balancing myself with my hand on his chest. My lips brush across his. Once. Twice. I tease him with the tip of my tongue before I pull back so I can look at him. “I have the chaps ready for you whenever you are.”
Laughing, I spin away and keep my eye out for a stool. I finally find one buried behind a bunch of equipment and pull it out. Gio continues to observe me as I set it in the middle of the small, carpeted area in front of the backdrop.
“Sit, please,” I direct, pointing to where I want him.
He settles onto it, his body loose and relaxed. Confident. His gaze follows me as I move lights around, shining them here and there. I grab my camera and fiddle with the settings then look at him through the view finder.
Not satisfied, I shorten the distance between us, and put my arms on his shoulders, shifting and guiding his position. I back up and pick up my camera again.
“Turn your head to the left a bit and look right here.” I hold up a finger next to my ear and his eyes follows the movement. “Perfect. Hold it.”
I snap a bunch of shots, then call out more directions. I reposition the lights, change the back drop, and Giovanni moves with each of my instruction, until I lower the camera and study him, thinking. Coming to a decision, I cross over to him once again, stopping directly in between his slightly parted legs.
His eyes warm. “You look like you’re about to cause trouble.”
Without a word, I reach up. My hands tremble as I slowly unbutton his shirt. I can’t look away from him. Each loosened button exposes more of his lightly furred chest. My pulse races faster. I swallow, but Gio doesn’t stop my actions. Not even when I reach the last button and his shirt gapes wide open. We continue to stare at each other.
It takes effort, but I manage to clear my throat, step back, and pick my camera back up. “Can you stand?”
He rises and I move the stool out of the way. I return to my spot a few feet away. “Hands in your pockets. Deep in them, and lean back just a little.”
Giovanni does as I ask, slipping his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, tugging them down a bit in the process, and exposing quite a bit more skin beneath his belly button. The arrow of hair that disappears beneath his waist band taunts me.“Are you going to start shooting?”
I blink and jerk my gaze up to meet Gio’s amused one. My whole body heats.
“Oh, um, yes.” I fumble with the camera, nearly dropping it. A masculine chuckle fills the air.
Finally, I manage to gather my composure and begin the shoot. Once again, after I get in a bunch of shots, I close the space between us and turn him. As I do, my hand glides across his washboard abs. Giovanni sucks in a breath, his stomach muscles tightening, and I freeze in place, my palm still pressed against him. I jerk my head up. We’re so close, I can see the flecks of gold in his eyes.
I drop my hand and swear there’s a flash of disappointment across his face. Without thinking twice about what I’m doing, I set the camera on the discarded stool a few feet away and move back to where Gio has taken his hands out of his pockets. My hand returns to his stomach, only the other one joins it. I slide them upward, my fingers gliding over his chest until they disappear beneath his shirt. I push the fabric over the tops of his shoulders and down his arms, leaving him standing there in only his jeans.
“Francesca,” Giovanni says, his voice roughened with arousal.
I glance up at him. “Can I touch you?”
He clears his throat. “You can do anything you want.”
Feeling bold, I lay my hands on him, learning the feel of his flesh beneath mine. He’s hot. Hard. Muscled. One arm is paler than the other from where he’d been wearing the cast, and the muscles appear slightly atrophied, but that doesn’t take away from his strength. His power. Something I’m not sure he even realizes he wields.
I’d told Anya Giovanni makes me feel safe. Standing here, in this quiet room, alone with him, he could use that power against me. He would never do that to you. He wouldn’t even, and I’m finally beginning to believe that. Gio does make me feel safe. Protected. He’d never let anyone hurt me, least of all him.
My hands follow a path of their own making, along his stomach, chest, and over his shoulders. I circle around him, my fingers dragging lines along the way. His muscles twitch and flex with each pass. I run a single finger down his spine. He growls deep and a shiver passes through him. I’m powerful in this moment. I’m the one bringing him pleasure.
Every caress ramps up my own arousal. My nipples tighten, and my core throbs. I’m the one in control here. He’s letting me be in charge, just like the night he came over to celebrate.
I come back around to face him. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes have turned nearly black. My gaze drifts down. There’s no hiding the fact that he’s hard. The fact doesn’t scare me as much as it might have even only a week ago. I lift my gaze to his.
“Kiss me.” The demand comes out strong and confident and full of need.
Giovanni doesn’t hesitate. He spears his fingers through my hair and slams his mouth down on mine, as though two simple words unleashed the beast within. His kiss is a claiming. A declaration that he owns me. He does, too. I’m utterly and completely his. Just as he’s mine.
My hands latch onto him, and my fingers dig into his back, grounding myself before passion sweeps me away. The kiss is everything. Neither of us hold anything back. He kisses me like he can’t get enough. Emotions swirl inside me, each one growing larger and threatening to explode out of me. I’ve kept them locked up for too long and they’re ready to be released.
Tongues battle, teeth gnash. Feelings overwhelm me. They’re raw and new and scary as hell. It’s not enough, and yet, at the same time, too much. I jerk my head back, needing a moment to breathe. Gio’s chest rises and falls rapidly.
“Chess?” he asks with a thread of worry in his voice. It’s the first time he’s ever used my nickname.
“I’m okay.” It comes out shaky and ragged. “I just need a second.”
My hold on
him remains, because I need to feel him, but I also need to control my thoughts. Everything begins to settle, including my heart rate. The intensity of what just happened slows. I suck in a breath and grip Gio tighter, resting my cheek against his chest. There’s a steady beating beneath me. His arms circle me gently, and when I settle more firmly against him, his hold strengthens.
We stay wrapped in each other’s embrace, breathing together until we’re in sync. There’s so much peace flowing through me. A feat I never thought possible. This warm light glows from my center, heating me inch by inch from the inside out. It pours out of me and encloses both Giovanni and me. If I had any doubts before that what I feel is love, this cements it. Does he love me, too? I’m too much of a coward to ask. Or to say the words first.
I breathe in his citrus cent one more time before I loosen my hold and step back. Gio’s shirt lies on the carpet at our feet, and I reach down to pick it up. Much more slowly than I unbuttoned it, I fasten each one again until it’s completely closed, and smooth the fabric with my hands.
“Thank you for letting me shoot you,” I tell him.
“I’m your willing subject anytime you need me.”
My eyes meet his, and I’m sure he’s not talking about just letting me take his picture. “Let me put this stuff away and then we can go.”
“You’re not going to exploit me by selling pictures of my half-naked body on the internet are you?” he asks with a serious expression on his face.
“What?” I burst out laughing, and Gio’s chuckle joins mine. “You are such a goof. And for your information, if I did sell them, I’m sure that I’d make oodles of money that I may or may not share with you.”
“Oodles, huh?” he waggles his brows.
I eye him up and down, pausing dramatically at the bulge beneath his jeans, before returning to meet his gaze. “Oodles,” I draw out the word with a cheeky grin.