Page 14 of Tortured Hearts
When his lips crash onto mine, I know the answer.
The kiss is hungry and desperate and tastes a lot like goodbye. I don’t want to accept it, because that paints the final brushstroke of our forbidden story. But the moment we locked eyes in that courtroom hallway, I became lost to him. So, instead of fighting it, I coil my arms around his neck and memorize everything.
The scent of burnt pine that somehow still clings to him despite all the soot and ash.
The dominant touch that knows how to push my boundaries without crossing the line.
The deep, possessive voice that chases away all my monsters.
“Johnny…” I groan against his mouth.
“Gianni,” he commands, his grip on my neck tightening. “Say it and mean it.”
“Gianni.” The name rolls off my tongue as if it’s been there all along. It’s like listening to the first act of a play with your eyes closed, then watching the second with your ears covered. Either way, it’s the same script. Knowing who he really is should change how I feel about him, but it doesn’t. If anything, it fans the flame even higher.
“Becca, I got here as fast as I…” My eyes widen as my father’s voice trails off, his expression turning to stone when Gianni casually turns around, wiping his bottom lip with his thumb with a smirk. “What the hell ishedoing here?” he hisses.
I grip the sides of the bed. “He was the one who?—”
“Forget it.” My father slices his hand through the air. “I don’t care. It just saves me the trouble of tracking the bastard down.” I’m not shocked he’s refusing to listen to me. It’s the hallmark of our relationship. However, my plastic facade crumbles when he pushes a button on his radio, his eyes never leaving Gianni.“I need all officers at Providence Hope to report to room 328 for a 10-38.”
“What are you doing?” I sputter. “What’s happening?”
Gianni just stands there, his smirk widening. “‘Man with a gun’ call. Nice touch. Bet mine’s bigger than yours.”
My father presses the button again, his glare hardening. “Suspect is being charged in connection to the office fire on Fenwick Drive.”
Before I can open my mouth, two uniformed men rush through the door, guns drawn, and the monitors attached to my chest kick into overdrive. As the room fills with the chaotic chirp of my racing heart, everyone stares, but nobody moves.
Then all hell breaks loose.
“Cuff him.”
The two officers rush toward Gianni, one jerking his arms behind his back while the other locks a pair of steel handcuffs around his wrists.
This can’t be happening.
I watch in horror as my father walks slowly toward Gianni. “Giovanni Marchesi, you are under arrest for first degree arson and the murder of Detective Jackson Ledger. You have the right to remain silent…”
“Dad, stop!” I climb off the bed, only for the wires to pull me back. “You can’t do this.”
“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” Another step and the smile on his face broadens. “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be providedfor you.”
“Dad!” I scream, frantically ripping off wires and leads.
“Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?” They’re face to face now, mutual hate simmering between them as my father taunts him with the upper hand. But Gianni just stands there, completely unbothered. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“He didn’t say that.”
“Stay the hell out of this, Becca.”
Gianni’s expression darkens. “Don’t speak to her like that again.”
“Is that a threat, Marchesi?”
“It’s a warning.”
They glare daggers at each other. Just as I’m about to intervene, Dad tips his head toward the door. “Get him out of my sight.”
