Gio stares at me. An expression I’ve never seen before softens the mask of indifference he normally wears. Wistful. Almost nostalgic. I shake my head. That can’t be right. He has no feelings. Barely experiences emotions, especially not longing. He never yearns for anything. He just takes what he wants.
And then throws it away when he doesn’t anymore.
The familiar ache returns to my chest. Now the celebration is winding down, and I'm forced to face him again. The short reprieve over much too soon.
Once the Bryson twins race into the corridor, Dodie’s arms wrap tight around me. A comforting touch I’ve missed. Although I love the challenge of the university research, the simple joy of this intimate library remains entwined around my heart. Too thick and deep to ever wither. “I’ll be back for the Valentine’s party, if that’s okay?”
“Of course it is honey. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”
"Thanks Dodie."
Relieved she doesn't mention anything about the earlier awkwardness with Gio, I wave a final good-bye before she pushes the craft cart toward the double closet in the back storage area. I dawdle retrieving my coat. My mind racing to figure out what to say to him. To remind him I need some space as well as time to work.
The smooth fabric glides out of my hands. Gio holds up the jacket for me. Patiently waiting for me to slide my arms in the sleeves. Flaming the argument between my head and my heart from his attentiveness and gentle manners. Just like he used to.
"Looks like you had a good time."
"I did. It was fun to see the kids so excited."
I fiddle with my gloves while we walk, trying to prevent him from taking my hand. Total fail with that ploy when his arm wraps around my waist and he tucks me against him. Just like he used to.
At the car, his protective grip remains on my elbow as I climb inside the passenger seat. My pulse races in my veins when he caresses my cheek after I buckle my seat belt. Just like he used to.
Disappointment darkens his expression when I shrink away from his touch. That was the past. I can't get hung up on what he used to do. I must focus on now. Our relationship, if I can even call the terse dance flinging us together and ripping us apart a relationship, is much too precarious to assume it will continue to exist. Even a few minutes from now.
Especially with the decision I made.
Guilt weighs on me for being distracted during the party, but my time is limited. Although two choices are evident, I really can only pick one. Deep down, I know my heart too well for there to be any other option.
Heavy silence hangs between us. Making we wonder what worry lines his forehead. His fingers gripping the steering wheel with anxiety after he starts the ignition. Might as well jump into the fire now while his focus remains on the windshield. Easier than him looking at me.
"I know we made a mistake last night. But I’m not going to take Plan B. I'm sorry if you disagree, but I have to take responsibility for my actions." I hate the crack in my voice. Too many memories I can't ignore flood my mind. "It's not a baby's fault."
Despite the strap wrapped taut across my torso, my shoulder slams into the window when the car jerks along with Gio's gaze jerks in my direction. Rage spreading scarlet up his throat and across his clenched jaw.
"God damn it Chryseis. Why in the fuck would you think I'd want you to get rid of our child? Especially after what you went through?"
"I didn't...I just..."
Heat flames my own cheeks. His unexpected fury steals my breath and my words. I don't know what I thought. I've never been so confused. About him. About me. About us.
And now we're back to contentious quiet except for his deep sigh. Attempting to rein in his anger. Both of us muted with shock. A bit of relief too on my part too. That he agrees and understands. Recognizing I'll never fully recover from what happened.
"If you're pregnant, I'll take care of you. Both of you. You know that."
Tears prick my eyes from the certainty in his tone. I do know that but his conviction – his sentiment – isn't enough. Not when I need so much more. "I don't want your money."
No response from my comment. Just a sharp shake of his head and a string of curses whispered in his billowing breath. His body stiffening against the leather seat while I sink into mine. At least he doesn't yell.
But he does drive into the parking garage under his building. So distracted by my apprehension, I missed him bypassing my transitional neighborhood and entering his upscale area. Towering skyscrapers of lofts and multi-level apartments. His penthouse the highest of course. Looking down on everyone and everything just like he loves. "What are you doing?"
Nothing.
Silent as he parks the SUV between the Mercedes sedan and the Maserati convertible he said he bought for me. That I never officially accepted, but never refused to drive either. I might have been hesitant but I wasn't a fool. It was fun. With him. When we were together.
With jerky and quick movements, he shoves the door open and strides around to my side. Goosebumps sprinkle on my skin from the intensity darkening his features. Eyes boring into mine. Lips set in a hard line. Cheek twitching as his jaw grinds. He’s beyond angry.
He yanks the passenger handle and hauls me out. The tight grip on my arm mirroring his furor as he stands me on my feet and invades my space. Huge fingers cup my face. Sharing the same fog from our heavy breaths visible in the cold air.
"If you are pregnant, I will give you everything you and my baby need. I will go with you to every doctor's appointment. I will look at baby name books. I will buy toys and car seats and cribs and clothes. I will hold your hand in the delivery room. I will do it all. Every. Single. Fucking. Thing. And no one will stop me. Not even you. You got me?"
Shivers engulf me. Grateful I wasn't wrong about what I suspected. I knew he would be like this. I hoped he would be like this. "I got you."
“Good." His grip softens from my whisper, and he actually smiles. So incredibly handsome in his happiness. Smooth black leather strokes over my cheek and down my hair to my hand. Heat radiates through my gloves from his fingers circling mine. "Let's get inside and warm you up."
My defenses are weak from his emotional outpouring. Jackhammering the already crumbling barricade I thought I built solid and secure around my heart. But I'm coherent enough to realize he's up to something. A knowing smirk brightens his face. Striding with a cocky posture. Humming with satisfaction as he hustles me across the expansive concrete and into the empty elevator. Leaving the bodyguards behind as the doors bounce closed.
Vainly tugging against his grasp, I struggle to keep the exasperation out of my tone. "I can't. I have to study. I still have finals on Monday."
"No problem. Study all weekend. I won't bother you, except at night."
Of course my treasonous body responds to the implication threaded through his words. Wet lips drag down the side of my throat while he pins me against the metal wall. Powerful yet unbelievable. He thinks he's going to seduce me.
Insistent fingers glide under my sweater. A single brush of his demanding touch against my skin, and I involuntarily arch against him. Making my eyes sink shut when his growl vibrates deep and guttural on my collar bone. He is going to seduce me if I don't stop him. Stop myself before I let his temptation attempts go too far.
I shove against his chest. Ineffective with his size and determination. "I'm serious. I need to go home."
"You are home."
I don’t have time for this. These tests are important. My last chance to recover from the massive dip in my GPA during the last two semesters. Too much drama impacting my grades. Jaded professors have little sympathy for broken hearts. “Please Gio, no more games. I really have to concentrate. They’re my toughest ones for French philosophy and literature.”
He steps back. Standing up to his full height and peering down at me, his unblinking gaze meets mine. Without any hesitation or doubt.
“No games. I've had all your stuff moved in and your utilities turned off. You live here now.”
Oh no.
No. No. No.
He really is crazy. I always suspected he was slightly deranged but wrote off his obstinacy as tenacity and persistence. Now his insanity is undeniable. A wicked chuckle bounces through the small space from my furious head shake. “I’m not doing this. You’ve lost it. I’m going to Sheena’s.”
“Didn’t she go home for Christmas?”
Panic burns through me. He’s right. She and all of my other friends have either left already or are getting ready to depart. Staying with their families for the next month to celebrate holiday break. Dumbfounded, I don't resist as he leads me out of the elevator, through the massive foyer, and into the den. My mind races faster than my heart. Seeking a solution to this ludicrous situation. “Then I’ll go to my parents’ house.”
“Aren’t they spending the winter down south with your grandmother – enjoying the warmer weather while they work on their book?”
I have no idea how he maintains such an innocent expression when we’re both well aware he’s more than guilty of so much. “How do you know that?”
“They’re under my protection now. Sheena too.”
Now I’m going to have to explain bodyguards to them too. As if he can read my mind he shakes his head, holding up his enormous hand.
“Don’t worry. My guys are discrete. But I will always make sure the people you love are safe.” Darkness flickers in his eyes. Both of us well aware of what he’s capable of. What he’ll do when he’s pushed too far. “Besides, you’d have to get up awfully early to make it back in time for your eight am test.”
He accessed my schedule. Is nothing confidential anymore? “I'll stay in a hotel."
"With that plane ticket to New Orleans on your credit card? I don't think so angel."
And now he's hacked into my private financial information. He's so, so smug. A brash twist of his lips while he waits for my next suggestion. Of which I have none. "Damn it Gio. What did you do?”
“I did what I should have done a long time ago.” He talks slow as if we don’t speak the same language. Which at this point I’m not sure if we even do. “I got you out of that fucking dump and back to where you belong.”
“All my stuff is here?”
I ask more for myself than him because I already know the answer. Flustered from the realization of the depth of his resolve. From the certainty of his tone and the confidence of his defiant expression. He really believes I will just accept living here permanently. With him. As a couple.
“That’s what moving means, Books. They pack your things in boxes and load the boxes on a truck. Then they drive the truck here and unload the boxes. Your books are in here and your–“
“Fine!” I toss my palms up in aggravated defeat. To stop him from talking. Prevent him from torturing me anymore with his condescending explanation that he finds hysterical and I absolutely do not think is humorous at all. “Fine! I will stay here until my finals are over, and then I’m moving somewhere else until I can get my apartment back.”
"Sure. You go ahead and think that."
Irritation heats me to my core from his impudent wink. "I'm serious. I'm only doing this so I can study. Then I'm gone.”
He ignores my threats. Responding only to the buzzing phone in his pocket.
“I mean it."
I yell at his back. Already walking away, engrossed in his screen. His shoes pound on the tile. Filling the hallway with his heavy steps and arrogant laughter until fading to nothing. Just like my own resiliency. Pointless. Futile. Daunting. I'm trapped.
With shaking hands, I unbutton my coat. He really is out of his mind if he thinks I’m just going to accept him practically kidnapping me and confining me in here without any repercussions. Of which I have…none. I sigh to no one. Dramatic and unsatisfied but my frustration doesn’t matter. He won’t change his mind, and I have no other viable options at the moment.
More than six months have passed since I was in here. Nothing has changed. Still minimalistic décor with only two overstuffed brown leather sofas and an enormous screen filling half the north wall. No knickknacks or personal items.
Except for mine.
My notebooks are stacked neatly between my laptop and a heaping bowl of my favorite peppermint M & M’s on a breathtaking charcoal and ebony desk that still has the wood care instructions in the drawer. Thick new shelves, that don't sag, hold my black and white photo collection and all of my books. Two empty ones ready for more. How did he accomplish all of this in three hours?
No, I refuse to be impressed. Easy to dictate orders for your henchmen to carry out when you have money and power. But, at least, if he’s going to keep me prisoner here, he included some touches that I would like.
What he won't like is me sleeping in the guest room.
I drape my jacket across the back of the chair and drop down to the plump cushion, wrapping my favorite furry throw around me and plugging in my dead phone.
With the first ping of life, Sheena’s name pops on the screen. A message I missed this morning in the chaos that is Gio.
How R U feeling?
Exhausted. Confused. Stupid. Loved. Stalked. Better than I should after all we drank.
LOL! Me 2. Nice of Tucker to take us home. Much better than a grimy cab.
Yes, he’s a good guy. Even though I can’t always say the same about his boss.
I think so 2. Love U friend. Merry Christmas! Can’t wait for New Year’s Eve!
I can’t even think past this moment. Same here! Love U 2!
Shoving the cell across the cool marble surface, I tug my computer closer. Completely cognizant he won't allow me to work in peace. Not until I give him what he wants. So I might as well get some studying done before the confrontation begins. I just need to get through Monday and then I really am leaving. He can't stop me no matter what he thinks.
She's been in there for hours. Hunched over her laptop. Furiously jotting notes in her binder. Twisting her long hair in a bun and letting the thick strands fall again while she reads the tiny print on the screen. My girl works hard.
I love that about her. What I hate is that she has to. I never thought about the impact of being dumped would have on her school performance. The perfect four point o ruined by me. Punished once again for me being a stupid bastard. I was this close to having Sutton hack in the system and change her grades to ones she really deserves. But as much as I would love to see her all riled up about the improvement, she would never be happy or accept my duplicity.
She'll deny her reaction later, but I fucking loved how much her face lit up when she saw the book shelves. An easy yet permanent way to remind her how well I would take care of her. If she would only let me.
So deep in thought she jumps a bit when her phone vibrates across the new desk. That she seems to like too. A soft smile crosses her lips. I wait for the few seconds it takes for Sutton to forward me the message she received.
Good luck with your finals sweetie. I know you’ll do great. Call me if you need anything.
A text from her mom, DeAnne. Nice lady. A little bit flighty, but a genius like Books. Guess you’d have to be brilliant to be a scholar in ancient Greek literature. Always quoting famous philosophers and engaging in voracious debates with her husband who’s a book geek too.
When she stretches her arms over her head, the arch of her back and thrust of her huge tits forward is my downfall. I set my tumbler on my own desk and switch off the monitor before I stride from my office to the den.
She’s back to scribbling notes on her legal pad by the time I reach her and doesn’t even look up when I step behind her. Ignoring me. That’s fine. I love seducing her.
My hands curl over her slender shoulders and massage the tight muscles. So fucking delicate under my fingers I have to restrain my power to keep from crushing her petite bones. Touching her makes me instantly hard, but her mewl of pleasure almost makes me explode. Fuck she’s sexy. “Feel good?”
Her slight moan of agreement flashes straight to my balls. “Please don't ever stop.”
“Don’t worry, angel. I won’t.”
“I don’t want you to, but I need to go for my run.”
I need to get you into my bed. “I’ll go with you.”
As if she suddenly realizes she’s let her defenses down, she leans forward, breaking the contact between us, and slides out of her chair. Pushing space between us. Pushing me away.
“That’s okay. You don’t have to.”
Damn, what she’s really saying is she doesn’t want me to. I’m not going to lie – it hurts. We always worked out together. Most of the time ending up fucking on the mats in the gym. Already sweaty and with her wearing those thick sports bras stretched thin, barely containing her gorgeous tits, and those tiny shorts, I couldn’t fucking help myself. “I want to.”
Uncertainty lines her forehead and she tucks her slender fingers inside the edges of her sleeves. I’m making her nervous, and I don’t understand why.
“Where are my clothes? I need to change and I…”
Now I fucking get her apprehension. She mistakenly thinks I’m going to ravish her the second she strips down. Which I sure as hell want to. But I can’t. I have to force myself to take this reconciliation as slow as she wants. As long as she needs to trust me again. I’ve got her here, and I'm never letting her go again. I know I can convince her. I must convince her. “In our room.”
“'Our'...room?” Her trembling arms wrap around herself. Slaying me that she sounds so fucking doubtful after we connected earlier. “You know this is only temporary. I don't–.”
"No it's not." Fuck gentle. I’m on her. Grasping her arms to lift her up to me. Forcing her to give me her complete attention. She told me earlier what I had to stop saying to her. Now I'm going to demand the same in return. “I'm tired of hearing all the things 'we aren't' or 'can't do' from you. If you don’t want me to see your gorgeous body naked yet or have you sleep in my bed, I will fucking hate it. But I will fucking deal with it. Because, I don't give a damn what you say or what you do. We are not fucking temporary, and I'm damn sure going to prove it to you.”
I know I'm fucking crazy, but I swear I see a flicker of belief softening the suspicion glowing in her expression. The love, camouflaged for too damn long behind her sorrow, shines through her gaze. Before the sentiment hides again. Concealed by the doubt scaring her heart. Masking the optimism trying to spark. That I'm going to fucking ignite with fucking dynamite if I have to.
"Don't you understand?"
No, I don't fucking understand at all. Just fucking believe me. "What?"
"If what you said is true – that you were under attack and we were in danger – you didn't give me–"
Damn fucking shit. "It is true."
"Then you should've let me decide what to do. I should've made the choice to stay or go.” Always so rational as she implores me to hear her message. Her gorgeous blue eyes pleading with mine. But right now we don’t need rational. We need her to accept us being together. Permanently. “And now you're doing the same thing. I deserve to have time – without pressure from you – to make up my mind."
"There's nothing to make up. You want me." Could I sound any more like a pompous ass? But this is fucking ridiculous. I know she fucking loves me. Even if her words contradict her actions. "Just admit it."
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
Her head droops forward. Hiding her gorgeous face from me. Cloaking both of us in her devastation. “Because giving in makes me a fool.”
Fucking pride standing in the way. She’s not fighting me. She’s fighting herself. It takes everything I have not to argue with her. I won’t convince her. Not like this. Not by bickering. Not tonight. I release her and kiss the top of her head. “Enjoy your run.”
I force myself to stride to the door in silence. Wishing she’d stop fucking worrying about what her brilliant brain thinks and listen to what her broken heart wants.
“Gio?”
Damn if I don’t love my name on her lips. I spin around. Her gaze remains glued to the carpet despite her power to hold me here with just one word. “Yeah?”
She taps the tip of a shaking finger over her heart. “What does the flame mean?”
The tattoo. Her tattoo. Another visual reminder of my failure. Making my response the easiest and shittiest answer I’ve ever given her. “That I was living in hell every single fucking day for the last six months without you.”
Her head bobs again. A few seconds pass without any more questions, leaving me no choice. I have to walk away.