Page 79 of The Bonventi War
"When did you know?" I ask, curious despite myself. "That you, you know, loved me?"
Gio's lips curve into a small smile. "Really? When we fought and I left. Just the simple fact that I was mad. And then, when I saw you being taken… seeing you hurt when I found you in the trunk—" His voice grows rough. "I wanted to burn the whole world down. That's when I knew this wasn't just about protection or possession anymore."
"Well," I say and sigh, "I don't know what love is supposed to feel like," I admit. "My mother loved me, but she's been gone so long."
"Neither do I," Gio says. "I've always just been the enforcer. The Bonventis—we protect what's ours. We're loyal to family. But this—" he gestures between us, "—this is different."
I smile. For a man like Gio, admitting vulnerability isn't easy. He doesn't allow room for weakness.
"I think about you constantly," he continues, his voice dropping lower. "I worry when you're not in my sight. I want to give you everything. Keep you safe." His hand slides up to cup my face. "Make you happy."
Gio leans in and kisses me, and for the first time, it feels like the deepest kiss I've ever known.
"We should go," he says, glancing at his watch. "My men will be here soon for cleanup. I don't want you to see that."
I nod, suddenly aware of how exhausted I am. Every muscle aches from the kidnapping, and the emotional whiplash of the last few hours has drained what little energy I had left.
"I've got a first aid kit in my apartment upstairs," Gio says as we turn toward the front door. "Let's go clean you up."
We walk, and then I stop him. "Hey, Gio," I say.
"What? Are you okay?"
I nod. "I love you, too."
33
RAVEN
The elevator ride up to our floor feels endless. My body aches in places I didn't know could hurt, and dried blood cracks on my skin every time I move. I lean against the wall, stealing glances at Gio's profile—the strong jaw, the intensity that never quite leaves his eyes even when he's being gentle.
The doors open, and we step out into the hallway.
"Actually, do you mind bringing the first aid kit to my apartment instead?" I ask, my voice sounding raspy. "I want to get out of these clothes."
The fabric of my blouse is torn and stained with blood. The memory of being stuffed into that trunk, the smell of fear and gasoline, clings to me like a second skin.
Gio turns to me. "Absolutely."
Gio walks me to my door, his hand never leaving me as I slide my key into the lock. Once I push open the door, his hand leaves me.
"I'll be right back," he says and disappears into his apartment.
Inside, I peel off my ruined clothes, dropping them in a heap on the bathroom floor. I consider burning them later. The mirror reveals blooming purple bruises across my ribs, angry red marks on my wrists where they bound me, a slightly swollen eye, and a cut along my cheekbone that's crusted with dried blood.
I wash quickly, avoiding the most painful spots, just wanting those bastards' touch off my skin. Water swirls reddish-pink down the drain. I walk naked into my room and slip into an oversized T-shirt and pajama pants, the clean clothes feeling like heaven.
When I come out into my living room, Gio's already there, first aid supplies scattered across my couch. He's changed too. He's wearing a black T-shirt and dark jeans; a relaxed look I don't often find him in. His hands are clean now, no trace of blood remaining.
He looks up at me as he's unwrapping some bandages. "Come sit down here so I can take care of that beautiful face of yours."
I smile as I feel my face turning warm. I slide onto the couch beside him. It feels good to have him with me again.
"Now, hold still," he says, taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger. His touch is so gentle it almost doesn't feel like him. I almost laugh because I'm not sure it's in Gio's nature to be gentle, but he's here, trying.
"This will sting," he warns before pressing an antiseptic-soaked cotton ball to the cut on my cheek.
I flinch, hissing through my teeth.
