Page 45 of The Bonventi War
I nod a little too eagerly. "Oh yes, it's beautiful. It's just… a lot."
Gio smiles. "Say you'll wear it tonight, and every night after."
"I will," I promise.
"Good. Let me put it on you."
I turn and lift my hair, and Gio places the necklace around my neck. He presses his body into me slightly as he does, and I instantly find myself wanting more of it.
"There," he says.
I turn and look at him. "Well?"
"Stunning. The necklace looks very nice on you, too," he says with a smile and offers me his arm. "Shall we?"
I hold his arm the entire way to his waiting car. Even in the elevator, I don't let go, and he doesn't seem to mind.
I slide into the back of his Rolls Royce, and as we pull away, I can't help but fidget with my new necklace. The weight of it feels foreign, yet comforting. I catch Gio watching me out of the corner of his eye, his gaze intense as always.
Suddenly, he breaks the silence. "Why do you do that?"
I blink, confused. "Do what?"
"That," he says, pointing to my hand. I realize I've been absently rubbing my tattoo again.
"Oh." I stop immediately, feeling self-conscious. "It's just a thing I do."
"I know, but why?" His voice is softer than usual, genuinely curious rather than demanding.
I hesitate. "Is it that obvious?"
"You do it a lot. I've seen you do it when you're upset, angry, happy, and if I had to guess, nervous now?"
"Okay, Mr. Observant," I retort, trying to mask my discomfort with sarcasm.
He laughs. "Well, with you, it's easy to observe."
I hesitate for a moment but decide to answer him truthfully.
"Well, it's my mom." I hold up my wrist, showing him the small raven inked there. "Not like my actual mom—I assure you I didn't come from a bird."
"Are you sure? I do see a slight resemblance," he teases, his eyes carrying a hint of amusement.
"Oh, shut up. Do you want me to tell you or not?"
"Please," he says with a smile. "I'm all ears."
"My mom got sick when I was sixteen. Cancer." The words come out quieter than I intended, even after all these years. "Before things got really bad, we went and got matching tattoos. My name, Ravenna, is Raven in Italian, so that's what we got."
I pause, lost in the memory for a moment. I remember that small tattoo parlor in a rough part of Chicago, the sting of the needle, my mom's hand squeezing mine.
"It was one of the happiest days of my life," I continue. "It was right before she started chemo. She said she wanted us to havesomething that connected us forever, something that cancer couldn't take away."
I blink back tears, trying to compose myself. "When we all knew she was going to die, she told me that whenever I wanted to talk to her, I could just say what was on my mind while rubbing my raven, and it would carry the message to her. So—shit, my makeup," I say, feeling a tear roll down my cheek.
"Here." Gio hands me a crisp white handkerchief, monogrammed with his initials.
"Sorry, I?—"
