Page 35 of The Bonventi War
I hesitate for a moment before reaching out and grabbing the bag. Inside, I find an outfit—a black dress that looks like it would cling to every curve. Underneath are a matching bra and panties in the same color. The fabric feels sinfully soft against my fingers, and heat rushes to my face as I examine the lace on the lingerie.
Tucked within the clothes is a receipt. My eyes widen as I see the total.
"Twelve thousand dollars?" I say to the empty room, my voice rough. "What the hell?"
Part of me wants to enjoy this extremely generous gift and think nothing negative about it, but the other part, the part that's kept me going all these years, thinks: Who does Gio think he is, buying me clothes like I'm some kind of doll he can dress up?
I hear some noise from outside the room and quickly shove the receipt and lingerie back into the bag, my hands trembling slightly.
The door opens slowly, and Gio stands in the doorway, filling the entire doorframe. He's wearing a white button-down shirt and black dress pants. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone, and I see his tattoos snaking their way out of his shirt and up his neck. The sight brings back flashes of him at the gym, and my mouth goes dry. I stay in that thought for a moment before he brings me back.
"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice surprisingly gentle.
The question triggers something in my mind. Like a dam breaking, everything rushes back at once—the SUV, the knife at my throat, warm blood spraying across my face. My hand instinctively touches my neck where the blade had pressed.
As I press on the slight cut, I then remember what he did.
"Holy fuck, Gio, did you kill those guys?" I blurt out.
He takes a step into the room while maintaining eye contact with me. "Don't worry about that right now. Are you okay?"
I pull my hand away from my neck and look down at my fingers, expecting to see blood, but they're clean. Someone must have washed them while I was out.
"I—I don't know," I stammer, my voice shaky. "Am I supposed to be okay after watching someone get shot in the head?"
Gio moves closer, and I can smell his cologne again, stronger now. It's oddly comforting, which only serves to confuse me more.
He hesitates for a moment, as if he's unsure what to say.
"Well, you're safe now," he says, his voice low and steady. "That's what matters."
"Safe?" I say sarcastically. "I was nearly kidnapped, Gio. Or worse. How is that safe?"
He sits on the edge of the bed, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. "Because I got there in time. Because those men can't hurt you anymore."
"So you did kill them," I say, but I already know the answer. I mean, who survives being shot in the head?
Gio doesn't flinch. "I did what was necessary to protect you."
I should be horrified. I should be running for the door. But instead, I find myself oddly calm. Is this shock? Or am I just so desensitized to violence now that seeing people get killed is acceptable?
"Where am I?" I ask, changing the subject. I'm not ready to process those questions yet.
"My place," Gio answers. "I brought you here after you passed out. Figured it was better to keep you here than your apartment while you slept."
I nod, remembering the darkness that overtook me. "How long was I out?"
Gio looks at his watch. "About two hours."
I look down at myself, realizing I'm wearing an oversized T-shirt that definitely isn't mine. That hot embarrassment feeling starts to creep up my neck. "Did you...?"
Gio shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I—I didn't peek or anything. Your clothes were, well, they needed to be disposed of."
Right. Because I'm sure there was blood on them.
Gio clears his throat. "The clothes in the bag," he says, gesturing to the Armani shopping bag. "They're for you."
"Yes, I had a look. The dress is very?—"
