Page 33 of Twisted Addiction
“You’re doing it for me,” I said, a flicker of gratitude softening my tone.
He shook his head, laughter rumbling low and humorless. “No. I’m doing it for Dmitri. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
I let out a small, reluctant laugh. “Right... well, thank you, anyway.”
“Dmitri’s napping now,” he said, leaning on the railing as the waves licked at our boots, “but he’s got a meeting soon. A trial. Should keep him busy for at least six hours.”
I blinked at him, thrown off balance. “Dmitri’s on trial?”
“Yeah,” Giovanni said, like it was just another line on a grocery list. “For forcing you into marriage. The case is still dragging its feet, but don’t lose sleep over it—we’ve got ways of handling judges and paperwork.”
His nonchalance cut me. I stared at the horizon, the guilt creeping in before I could stop it.
I’d exposed Dmitri at that bar—blurting the truth in a burst of anger. It was my words that put him under a microscope. My words that had led to this trial. Despite everything—his cruelty, his distance—a pang of remorse twisted in my stomach.
“Hey,” Giovanni’s voice broke through my thoughts, sharper now. “Eyes over here. Not on the guilt trip.”
I glanced at him, startled by the steel in his tone. He smirked faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“How about I take you somewhere... different? Somewhere you can forget all this for a while. You look like you’ve forgotten how to be happy.”
I blinked at him, unsure if I’d heard right.
My arms tightened around myself, a shield against the suggestion. “Happy?” The word tasted foreign. “What makes you think I want a field trip with you?”
He chuckled, low and rough, as though my defiance amused him. “I didn’t say you wanted it. I’m saying you need it.”
My throat tightened, a flare of suspicion rising. “And where exactly are you planning to take me?”
“Where I’m taking you—it’s a surprise,” he went on, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. “But you can’t tell Dmitri. Not a word.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You? Hiding things from him now? What happened to that famous loyalty of yours?”
He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth quirking into that maddening half-smile. “Loyalty’s not about blind obedience. It’s about keeping the boss’s world from falling apart—even if he doesn’t know how to keep it together himself. You’re part of that world whether you like it or not.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “So now you’re my guardian angel?”
“No,” he said simply. “I’m just the guy who knows when to open a door and when to close it. If you want a few hours awayfrom all this, be at the parking lot in thirty minutes. If you don’t show...” He shrugged, already turning to limp up the shore. “I’ll take the secret with me.”
I frowned, searching his scarred face for a tell. “Why do I feel like this is a trap?”
“It’s not a trap.” He smirked. “Call it... a reset button. You either press it, or you stay stuck here.”
I didn’t answer.
The waves crashed below, cold and restless, like my thoughts. A “reset button” sounded too good to be real—but the ache in my chest, the claustrophobia of these walls, made my resolve wobble.
When I finally looked up, Giovanni was already moving away, his limp pronounced but steady, his silhouette shrinking against the silvered horizon.
The night seemed to swallow him whole.
I stayed where I was, the salt wind biting at my skin, alone with the crashing surf and my storm of thoughts.
His offer hovered in the air like a lifeline dangling just out of reach, and I didn’t know if I had the courage—or the stupidity—to take it.
Chapter 9
PENELOPE
