Page 47 of And Everything In Between

Now she was in her car, the bank finally locked behind her, the sky dimming and the streetlights starting to flicker to life. Her mind kept drifting back to Giovanni’s visit and offer from earlier, wondering what exactly he had planned for tonight. Whatever it was, she found herself looking forward to it.

She drummed her nails against the steering wheel, Giovanni's address glowing on her phone’s GPS. His casual “just come on in if I'm knocked out. Code is 8732” text made her smile, refreshing honesty from a man who didn't need to posture.

Her father could learn a thing or two. He was always acting like tiredness was something only the weak experience. Now he had no choice but to acknowledge his limitations, and there was a strange beauty in that surrender.

The thought of her father reminded her she should call and check in before she got to Giovanni’s. Making sure Perry took his evening meds was still part of her routine, even on nights like this when her mind was elsewhere.

“Call Daddy,” she instructed the car’s system.

The phone rang a few times before he answered.

“Daddy, you feeling okay? How was today?”

She’d finally gotten his Medicaid and Disability approvals pushed through. Perry now had income, his own little place, and access to healthcare benefits that would take some weight off her shoulders. Assisted living communities weren’t cheap, and she was grateful for the help. There was no way she could keep dishing out two grand a month and stay sane.

“Yeah, today was a good day. I told you things would work out.”

“You did.” She smiled softly. “Okay, I wanted to check on you before I headed home. Call if you need me.”

“Uh huh. You ain’t never rushed me off the phone. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Daddy. Work was work, and now I’m calling it a night with some food and silence.” She lied smoothly, well, not entirely. Food and silence would be involved, but she wouldn’t be alone.

He had asked about Giovanni a few times, but she’d been dodging the questions. Not because she was hiding anything, but because she honestly didn’t know what this was yet. And she wasn’t about to start explaining something she hadn’t even figured out herself.

“Ok, well, whatever you do, enjoy yourself and know that you deserve it.”

She wasn’t used to this kind of freedom, not from him, not from herself. Part of her wanted to embrace it fully. The other part kept waiting for the sky to fall. Letting go too much had always come with consequences.

She blew a raspberry and tapped her nails against the steering wheel, again something she did when she was nervous. The light was green now, and she took off. As she drove, the butterflies in her stomach multiplied. It wasn’t fear exactly. It was that delicious anticipation that came from actually liking somebody. Liking the rhythm they were building. Liking the thought of pulling up somewhere and knowing someone was waiting, not because they needed something, but because they genuinely wanted her presence. She wasn’t used to this, looking forward to someone instead of calculating what they might take from her. And damn if it didn’t feel good to just... be wanted.

She made the turn slowly, headlights sweeping across the gate Giovanni had described. It opened for her in one long, unhurried sweep, like it had been expecting her.

The driveway curved longer than she anticipated, lined with subtle lighting and meticulously trimmed hedges thatspoke of attention to detail. When the house came into view, Paige eased off the gas allowing her mind to catch up. She hadn’t realized Giovanni was living quite like this. She wondered if he’d deliberately downplayed his success, and if so, why.

Paige’s grip tightened slightly on the steering wheel as she took in the full view of the estate. The house sprawled confidently against the sky. The dark gray stone screamed elegance. She swallowed hard. It wasn’t that she felt out of place. Paige didn’t do insecurity. She’d been around men with money before; none of this impressed her to the point of thirst. But Giovanni had earned her respect, this was his hard work manifested on two acres of prime real estate. This wasn’t a house, it was an assertion about how he moved through the world. How he thought. What he valued.

She stepped out, locked the car, and made her way up the stone path to the front door. Her heels tapped quietly, but her thoughts were screaming. This wasn’t just a dinner invite. It was him giving her access to his sanctuary.

Why was she here? Had she changed her mind? They needed to talk. But Lord help her, she kinda wanted to ride his dick and then talk. She was caught between deep conversations and deep strokes.

“Snap out of it,” she said, coaching herself. She couldn’t keep standing outside debating with herself. She typed in the code with a hand that betrayed her nerves, heart thumping, but face composed. The door beeped once, then clicked open.

Inside, it was quiet, cool air, open space, marble floors. Her heel tapped once and echoed. She stopped mid-step, not wanting to wake him. Carefully, she slid her shoes off and held them in one hand as she padded barefoot into the house.

There was a note stuck to a bottle of Calypso, near the entryway in his neat, handwriting.

Downstairs. Second door on the left.

A grin appeared on her face, as she grabbed the drink and followed the direction past a sleek staircase and down a wide hallway, every detail around her clean, masculine, and lived-in. Like him. The basement stairs were lit by wall sconces that gave off a soft, golden hue.

“Second door on the left,” she murmured as she approached it.

She eased it open and paused.

Giovanni's man cave was everything she'd expected and more. Dark hardwood floors stretched beneath a massive sectional that looked ready to swallow visitors whole, all facing a wall-mounted TV the size of a small billboard. Framed photos of celebrity clients mixed with vintage street signs hung like trophies along the walls. In the corner, a black gun safe sat slightly open, a quiet reminder of the man he used to be and could still be if the situation called for it. And there he was.

Knocked out. Sweats slung low on his hips, a white ribbed tank clinging to his chest, durag tied tightly, one arm flung over the back of the couch like he’d started watching something and never made it past the intro. He looked peaceful in a way men like him rarely did, unguarded, vulnerable.

---