Merciful Vows: A Bittersweet Second Chance Romantic Suspense (The Giannotti World Book 1)

by Vanessa Luisa

  I’m not that kid anymore. I don’t submit to his torment, which is why I push myself away from the wall, grip his collar, and violently slam him against the opposite side of the hallway. My father’s head hits a picture frame and it slides down the dark navy walls from the force until I hear the crunch of glass beneath my feet.

  “What fucking photo was that?” My father growls, jerking his body towards mine but I have the upper hand and slam him back again.

  “Don’t know.” I bite back in fury. “Perhaps one of you and your beloved Clare. Wouldn’t be one of Mom, would it now? I will never forgive you for what you did behind her back and mine. You’re a selfish freak.”

  “Oh, so I’m a selfish freak now?”

  “Yes, and that’s sugar coating it. You were with another woman while my mother was dying. I was a fool for believing you had changed. Spending this Thanksgiving with you is a joke to humanity. You, Pietro Giannotti, are a joke to humanity.”

  His jaw tenses, that five o’clock shadow reminding me very much of my own. I’m grateful that’s where it stops and I more resemble my mother. I wouldn’t know how I would be able to look in a mirror every day and see him in me.

  “You think Clare’s the only one?”

  My jaw ticks and I fist his collar tighter, constricting his breaths as I hiss, “she better be.”

  My father laughs in my face like this is some type of joke; the cackle shoots straight to my heart. “Oh weak boy, when are you going to learn that no man ever stops at one? There’s always more. Always. Before Clare…and even now. At least Clare gets it.”

  “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Or maybe you should be for being the worthless piece in our lives…” Marcus’ words have me look to my left. He’s standing by the end of the hallway, simply watching.

  “You stay out of it.”

  “Can’t. I fit the family perfectly. You’re the one that doesn’t…remember?”

  All the bottled up rage spirals inside me. I decide this is the last time they get to treat me like this—the very last time. I let go of my father’s shirt and pivot to my half-brother. Just over half my age and he thinks he can ruin me with his words alone. He won’t ever break me.

  I’m striding towards Marcus when I hear it. The cocking of something that has me halting. A sinister smirk rises on my half-brother’s lips as the tip of cold metal presses against the nape of my neck.

  Oh, Dio.

  My father digs the gun so deep I’m convinced the finger brushing against the trigger isn’t having second thoughts. “Step one foot closer to Marcus and I will end you. Just like I wanted to since you were nine. I swear on your mother I will end you if you hurt my son.”

  The raging heat circling my neck is enough to haunt me. I raise my hands in surrender because it’s the only way to communicate I’m listening without the wave of emotion getting to me.

  Pietro Giannotti is forgetting everything. He’s forgetting that I’m his son too. That I was his first. That he used to tuck me into bed and tell me he’d protect me from the world he’s now going to end for me. That I used to look up at him and see my idol.

  He’s forgetting it…because he never loved me.

  Mom…wherever you may be up above watching over, please save me from him tonight.

  The memory fades the second I step inside the office to a grinning Valencia. One moment wrapped in her arms is enough to take away the thoughts of my father and replace them with my adoration for her.

  The feeling is reaffirmed during the day and right now when I press her doorbell. I’ve been waiting for 6:30 P.M. all day and now that it’s finally here, nerves begin to rise like it’s out first date. Well, this is our first date night in over six months. This is us starting over.

  A slow, sexy smile grows at the sight of Lencia.

  The bouquet of roses almost slips from my grip. Inside I’m celebrating like Italy won the World Cup all over again. She looks fucking beautiful as always. I adore everything about her inside and out, but I’m mentally lying on the ground in a pool of green, white, and red streamers because she hasn’t backed down.

  She wants this with me.

  Valencia has a dark red number on. I remember the dress very well. It’s my favorite on her and she knows exactly why. We bought it on our honeymoon in Fiji where we must have both forgotten we live in one of the cloudiest states in the USA.

  We were a little distracted to say the least.

  Now the love of my life stands in front of me. The v-neck long sleeved silk dress is tight against her breasts and waist, and loosens a fraction by her hips and legs. The hem cuts above her knees and she’s wearing tortoiseshell pointed heels, complimenting her glowing skin.

  Her chestnut brown hair is curled to one side, exposing her bare neck. It puts me in a sensual trance I can’t let go of. Not with the red lipstick across those perfect plump lips. This is Valencia starting anew and I fucking love it. I’ve been dying to kiss her, especially when she bites her lip so enticingly like she is now. I need to wait until the perfect moment.

  “You look impeccable, Lencia.”

  “Thank you,” she grins. “So do you.”

  “Let’s get the night started.”

  Valencia Giannotti stole my heart the first day I met her. She’s continued to steal my heart every single day in these past seven years and she continues to do so now. I can’t help the way I feel for her. I want to be there with her through it all; the adoration, the depression, the hope.

  This is why I cannot let her go. And I won’t.

  I survived my horrid past and was rewarded with pure gold.

  She owns my heart, mind, body, and soul. She never stopped owning them. Her initials are deeply etched into me. So deep that I cannot be myself without her or our children. She’s my air. The heartbeat in my chest. The very thing keeping me afloat.

  My savior.

  My one and only.

  Valencia Giannotti is my entire life.

  Valencia

  Our date has only started and already the energy between us is like no other. Giulio wanted to keep the plans for our date a surprise. It triggered my curiosity and thrilled me all at the same time. When we arrive at the dance studio for a private lesson, I am in awe. This is what my therapist, Dr. Eross, suggested.

  I lift my head to Giulio’s allusive gaze and feel warm all over from his sexy smolder. He looks sensational in that black dress shirt and those dark slacks. A couple of buttons are undone, exposing his smooth, olive skin.

  Rodrigo, our dance instructor circles us again. “The Rumba with Cuban Rocks is all about holding the gaze. It’s sexy. Ruthless. Unforgiving. Just like love. The dance is about falling down, but always getting back up. Closeness seems to be an issue with you, may I ask why?”

  “We’ve been living separately,” I say. “Previously we only saw each other to swap custody of the kids. We work together now and are attempting to give our marriage a second chance.”

  “Okay. Giulio, what is the sexiest thing about her?”

  “Her mind.”

  “Modest man.” Rodrigo chuckles and slaps his shoulder. “Come on, I mean on her body. What did you love the most about her?”

  “Her smile.”

  “And you?”

  “His eyes.”

  “Alright, you both need to keep your focus on those two aspects. I want to try something before we implement the dance steps. Now, fall into each other.”

  Giulio and I press in chest to chest and I worry about his bruises. He doesn’t seem to mind, and his touch seeps through my dress, awakening new sensations.

  His eyes flicker to my lips and my heartbeat grows rapid. Desire for him flourishes, especially when the action surges him closer and his eyes turn hooded. I feel him all over, just like the other night. I see Addilyn within him and it only makes me want to clutch him tighter.

  He’s half of her.

  “Perfect. Clasp your hands and have them up, up…no, not quite like that. T
he sexual tension is there. I can feel it. Transfer it into the way you hold each other.”

  I take in a deep breath, feeling his heart against mine.

  I can do this.

  Giulio’s head lowers, unconsciously teasing me with his masculine scent. It brings me back to life—a constant reminder of who he is and what he means to me.

  The way we’re looking at each other is so pure…so blinding.

  Rodrigo’s voice blurs in the background as Giulio’s fingers leave mine and raise to trace the outline of my lips. His thumb rests at the center of them and I involuntarily kiss it. My nipples pebble, poking against my dress at the mere sight of the erotic red painted on his fingertip.

  We step out of our trance and the instructor teaches us the basic steps of the Rumba. It takes a few tries for me to execute the slow backward/forward step and two quick side steps.

  Giulio has always been a good dancer.

  Our locked gazes barely drop and when they do, it’s to Rodrigo who stands by the dancer studio’s exposed brick wall with an encouraging smile. He observes us from a distance, opting to strengthen our pace to the rhythm of the percussive music.

  It was only weeks ago when Giulio and I struggled with words and a lost connection. We could barely speak to each other without negative tension. Now, we blossom in overflowing chemistry. Our silence is powered by our desire. I want to be a better woman for myself—for him—for my children. I need to find my confidence and be comfortable in trusting myself again. It’s why I chose to be bold tonight with my dress and push the limits with the lipstick.

  An alluring fire rumbles across the springwood dance floor. It intensifies at every slow, sultry, sexy rhythm. Giulio and I begin to transform into the husband and wife we once were.

  Our marriage is very much like this dance. It cannot be executed well as a solo. Both of us have to partake, locked in an enraptured hold and compromise. We have to express emotion through it, go in time with the music, and unlock a part of ourselves that we only have reserved for our love.

  We seem to do all of it perfectly.

  We execute every spin, sway, and pointed step. All except for one. The smooth, sedate Cuban Rocks. The fact that there is a gap between our bodies should be easier, instead it proves to render us incapable of us swaying our hips while looking each other in the eye.

  To specifically work through both the syncopated and basic Cuban Rocks, Rodrigo has me turn to face the wide wall mirror. Giulio is behind me, so close that we’re pinned together and his hands grip my hips, aligning them with his. We move to a sensual rhythm, one that has Giulio’s lips brushing against my neck.

  The warmth between my thighs intensifies and I can’t help but smile at how we’re carrying through. When I meet his gaze in the mirror, I note his hardness pressing against me and my newfound boldness has me pushing myself back to feel him deeper.

  “Baby.” He chuckles at my playful taunting, rushing his hands to my thighs. “That’s a very dangerous move you’re making…”

  I grin. “For me or for you?”

  “For us.”

  “That’s it.” Rodrigo urges us on. “You’ve got it. Build that confidence. Yes. Exactly like that.”

  Giulio’s hot breath tickling my neck has me resting my right hand by the back of his, drawing him closer. We’ve strayed from the Rumba, but that doesn’t stop us. His free hand takes over for me, fanning out across the length of my body in passionate urgency. We’re scorching fire as our bodies harmonize together.

  Holy hell…

  A moan escapes me and I’m not even ashamed. Not when the warm lights dim and Giulio cups my left breast with desire surging in his light eyes. The same desire that has me throbbing. We fuel each other’s heavy breaths, taking us to a whole new level of connection.

  “You’ve got this so well,” Giulio whispers in my ear.

  “You think?”

  “Mmhmm. Down pat.”

  “Sexiness is all through the eyes. Confidence is sexy. I see it within you both.” Our instructor reminds us. “I want you to level your gaze higher in the mirror. Remember why you first fell in love, not why you fell apart.”

  Desire burns through my eyes, especially when Giulio’s gaze drop to our movements and a soft curse word falls from his lips. I bite my lip and snicker at the following louder curses.

  Rodrigo chuckles. “Alright you lovebirds, let’s get back to the Rumba. You’re both experts at executing the Cuban Rocks now. Valencia, if you could turn around now and from there, we can create that gaping. Let’s do this!”

  I submit and Giulio holds my hips securely. I can’t stop smiling. This is such a passionate dance and exactly what we needed. Giulio chose it right.

  “Now, incorporate those sleek sways in the dance…slower, one, and a two…three, four…yes, perfect. One and a two…three, four…, one. Look at that. You’re naturals now!”

  Giulio’s hips follow mine and our motions falling into a slow, sleek flow. My eyes stay burning into his and our hands lead the dance. The entire hour lesson is a complete dream and when Rodrigo’s phone rings and he excuses himself to answer it out of sight, the dancing fades out.

  Giulio and I are alone and I want him so badly. We move closer until our noses brush and my heartbeat thuds to the delicacy of our citric and sweet scents merging into one.

  “Lencia.” His voice is low and for my ears only. “I want to devour you.”

  “Mmhmm, I’d like that.”

  “Darling…you are killing me.”

  That makes me smirk. “What? Am I stiff competition, Mr. Giannotti?”

  “Definitely hard, baby. Very hard.” Giulio hums, reeling our sexes closer. “But if we’re talking competition, it depends on which game we’re playing, Mrs. Giannotti.”

  “I’m up for anything.”

  “Ditto. I’m up for anything tonight with you.”

  “Just tonight?’

  “No. Not just for tonight, for every single day for the rest of our lives.”

  Time stops. His naked eyes give me everything I need.

  “I never want to let you go, Giulio.”

  Just then Rodrigo steps back inside the room and cuts the music. “Sorry about that. Alright, lovers, that’s the end of the lesson! Sensational job. You should both be very proud.”

  “Thank you, Rodrigo. Thank you more than you will ever know.” And then Giulio takes my hand and leads me out of the studio in a sprint. Halfway down the first set of stairs, he scoops me into his arms bridal style and rushes us down the remaining three flights so fast I cling onto him tightly, afraid we’ll tumble down.

  “Oh my god! Why have you turned into Speedy Gonzales?” I ask through my laugher.

  Giulio beams and just like that the sexual tension between us escalates even more than it already was. “Because I don’t want to waste another second. Not tonight. Not ever, baby.”

  We make it outside and he sets me down by his car. I’m hot all over, still catching my breath. Giulio is all I see. All I need.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  I bite my lip. “You.”

  “Oh, really now?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Make me.”

  Giulio provides the solution we both desperately crave. One sharp stride and everything becomes worth it when he crashes his lips onto mine. Our kiss is hot and so passionately driven that I feel for his collar and draw him even closer, moaning at the pleasure.

  Yes. Yes. Yes.

  In one solid motion, he lifts me and my legs automatically wrap around his waist. Giulio’s sensual touch has me kissing him back harder. He leaves me so breathless—and healed. I graze my fingers over his stubbled jaw and appreciate the way he breaks our kiss with a smile, only to say. “You’re my air, Lencia.”

  My heart clenches at the phrase he always used to say.

  This is more than just a first kiss in six months between a separated husband and wife; this is an emotional bat
tle and physical torture.

  A slow, sensual kiss follows. Giulio’s warm lips awaken every nerve ending within me as he leans me against his car and we savor the way our tongues dance their own style of Rumba.

  I forget everything we’re battling.

  I forget our damned separation.

  I forget our split views.

  Both the arguments and the investigation. I forget it all and for the first time in my life, I turn selfish. I do this very thing for myself. I’m uplifting happiness for me.

  It feels so right with Giulio.

  So right.

  Like there’s no better way.

  Resting our foreheads together, we pull away panting heavily. My god.

  “I promise to try, and although I know this won’t be perfect at the beginning, it will be beautiful in its own way.”

  “Lencia, I will make up for all the months I was supposed to be kissing you. All the months I was supposed to be right there beside you. All the months I was supposed to wake up beside you. To love. To protect. To simply be. I will make it up to you, Lencia. My whole existence was made for tonight with you…and the rest of our lives together with our children.”

  “And so is mine because I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Our grins widen and he pecks my lips before setting me back down. “Come on, baby. Let’s go. Our night is far from over.”

  During the car ride to the next secret location, I make a vow to myself that whatever happens from here, I will never forget the way he makes my heart so full.

  Giulio takes us to Cœur d’or, the very restaurant our entire history was whisked in fate during our first date. Now seven years later we are recreating it. The name of the French restaurant translates to Golden Heart. The burgundy walls spread passion with a lick of ambiguity and the sleek decor remains the same, a frozen piece of the past. There’s also a fascinating private gallery I love located upstairs that changes out their art every month. Upon entering tonight, it was the first place we went and every single painting was so sensational and…inspiring.

  Now, we’re downstairs in the restaurant. Couples dance across the circular dance floor as the harmonious live silk-voiced male crooner warms the ambiance, each note tugs at my heart and spins me in a vortex of verses. I’m reminded of the people we were those seven years ago and the people we are now.