Page 41 of Giovanni the Savage

This mission isn't so bad after all.

He's still staring at me, and electricity crackles between us at the intensity of our gaze. It's like two atoms met and are about to explode. His eyes are roaming over my face, and I'm grateful I let my friend work her makeup magic on me. If not, all he would have been staring at would be the dust of freckles on my nose.

"You look stunning," he compliments, breaking the silence.

This is the second time he has said that, but the feeling is the same, if not more. My face heats up, and I can feel a surge of pride at his compliment.

This time, a genuine smile tilts my rosy-red lips upward. "Thank you," I reply, then add, "You look good too."

His face breaks out into a smile, and that's when I realize it's the first time I've seen him smile since I started working for him. The first time I’m seeing a real smile on his face. It's not controlled or stifled. It's a broad smile exposing his rows of teeth, and it has his eyes crinkling at the sides.

A stab of guilt hits me, however faint, dampening my initial happiness.

"At least you don't think I'm wearing garbage bags," he replies.

I laugh lightly to cover up my blush.

"Just act normal," he advises.

"Okay." I smile, still admiring his features.

His hair is tousled perfectly, he's cleanly shaved, and that damn scar on his lip is still glistening. Only Giovanni would make a scar look so perfect.

"Shall we?" He smiles as the car comes to a halt in front of two big doors and a red carpet leading up the stairs.

"Remember, garbage bags," he reminds me as his door swings open.

I give him a grateful smile but still can't shake off the dreadful feeling in my gut.

He holds his hand for me when he steps out, and the second I'm out, the camera lights start flashing at me. The paparazzi have been held back by a velvet boundary, but it doesn't stop them from screaming at anyone who passes by.

"Mr. Giovanni, you brought a date tonight!" one of them exclaims while blinding me with white flashing lights; my pupils feel like they're on fire.

He ignores them, and I cling to him while he walks us up the stairs and through the hall's double doors.

The hall is decorated exquisitely, with standing tables and a live band setting up at the center. The same banner that was outside is hung inside, complementing the gold and velvety interior. Everything looks ravishing; I'm supposed to feel calm, but my guard is higher than ever.

Nothing seems shady; everyone is just offering fake smiles. Meanwhile, they all have guns tucked into their pockets, ready to shoot each other. It makes me wonder if Giovanni has one. I've never seen one in his office, but he wouldn’t keep it where I can see it, for obvious reasons.

"Drinks?" he asks me, and I nod.

He raises his hand to the waiter, who halts in front of me with drinks. He snags a glass from the tray and hands it to me before taking one for himself.

"Cheers," he mutters before taking a sip.

He's pretty cool for someone attending a Mafia gala; for a second, I imagine him as dangerous. It'll be easier to spy on someone ruthless and dangerous as opposed to a friendly and thoughtful fellow.

"How're you feeling?" he inquires.

Cue the butterflies. And the guilt.

"Pretty calm. But I've got a question."

His ears perk up at my words like he is so happy to answer anything I have, making me smile.

"Why is everyone so surprised you brought a date?"

He chuckles. "If by everyone, you mean the paparazzi, then just know it's their job to ask questions. But aside from that, it's the first time I've brought a date to an event."

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