Chapter 3 Giovanni Dawson
Remembering the events of last night was a complete disaster. The pounding in my head worsened with every attempt to recall what had happened. Quietly, I slipped out of bed, my heart heavy with fear, wondering why my life always seemed to spiral into chaos.
Why did pain follow me wherever I went?
This felt too much like what happened four years ago. The same dread, the same shame. I couldn’t let history repeat itself.
Checking myself, I realized I was still fully dressed, except my clothes had changed. That only raised more questions. Where were my things? My purse, my shoes, my diamond necklace? That necklace was the last gift from my mother, the only piece of her I had left. Had those men taken it?
I needed to get out of here before another scandal exploded. My reputation couldn’t take another hit. I thought of Nora, the only person who’d shown me kindness last night, but her face was a blur in my memory.
Moving quietly, I tiptoed to the door. I had almost made it when a sudden force pinned my back to the wall.
My heart stopped. His movements were swift, his arms caging me in. I froze as his breath brushed my ear, surprisingly fresh, not tainted by alcohol like Wesley’s always was.
“Is this how you repay me,” he murmured, voice deep and commanding, “after I saved your life?”
That voice. It struck something deep inside me. A familiar, powerful, unforgettable. I tried to look away, too ashamed to meet his eyes, but then, recognition hit.
“Gianni?”
The name left my lips in disbelief. Memories came rushing back like a flood I wasn’t ready for.
Six years ago. I was in high school, sitting in a small restaurant when I first saw him—handsome, arrogant, untamed. He’d stepped away to take a call, and I’d seen one of his so-called friends pour a white substance into his meal. I recorded it on my phone and showed him when he returned, saving him from what could’ve been his death.
The next day, he found me with a bouquet of roses and that dangerous smile of his. It was the beginning of something wild and beautiful.
He told me later his friend had confessed to trying to poison him out of jealousy. I never pressed for more. We fell in love fast and recklessly. He wasn’t a college student like me, rather mysterious and magnetic. I was young and starry-eyed.
He was my first love. My only love.
Then one night, after he came to visit me during my second year of college, we made love. It was perfect, tender, everything I had imagined. But when I woke up the next morning, he was gone. No note. No call. No trace. His number disconnected.
For months I tortured myself with questions until I convinced myself he must be dead. It was easier to mourn a ghost than live with betrayal.
Now, here he was, alive.
“So, you’re alive,” I whispered, stepping back from him.
Giovanni or Gianni, as I used to call him, had changed. His hair was the same dark shade, his eyes the same stormy gray, but his aura was different. Stronger. Harder. There was a chill about him that unsettled me.
“What did I ever do to you?” My voice cracked. I had hated him for leaving me, hated him until I forced myself to forget. Yet fate had twisted the knife by throwing him into my life again.
His expression softened, but I didn’t trust it. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said quietly. “There was something I had to take care of, something urgent. When I got home, things were… worse than I imagined.”
I laughed bitterly. “That’s a nice story. You could’ve called, Gianni. Texted. Sent a damn note. Anything.” I turned toward the door, only to realize it was locked. I rattled the handle. “Open it.”
“You have nothing, Molly,” he said calmly. “You can’t leave.”
His words sent a rush of anger through me. “My head…” I groaned, clutching my temple as the room spun.
Gianni was beside me in seconds, pulling a small bottle from the drawer. “Take this,” he said, pouring me a glass of water.
I stared at the pills suspiciously. “What’s in it for you?”
His jaw tightened. “You think I’d drug you? Google it.”
There was no mockery in his tone, only exhaustion. I hesitated, then swallowed the pill. If he meant harm, he wouldn’t have told me to look it up.
“Lie down for a while,” he said, voice gentler now.
“No. I need to go.”
“You have nowhere to go, Molly,” he reminded me quietly. “Let me help you. Just to make up for old times. No strings attached.”
His words froze me. He was right. I had nowhere to go. Wesley and Kiara had stripped me of everything, even my home. I needed a lawyer. I needed money. I needed… control.
Maybe fate had thrown Gianni back into my path for a reason. He had hurt me once, yes, but maybe this time, I could use that pain to my advantage.
“How exactly,” I asked slowly, “do you plan to help me?”
“I want you to be my son’s nanny. In return, I’ll help you regain everything you lost,” Giovanni proposed casually, too casually.
For a moment, my heart forgot how to beat. The words hung in the air like a cruel joke. Giovanni had a son? My mind reeled. Surely, I had misheard him.
But when I gathered my courage and met his gaze, the truth was there, etched into the calm certainty of his expression. He wasn’t joking. He did have a son.
“Where is your son’s mother?” I asked, my voice trembling just enough to betray my curiosity.
He turned away, his tone turning icy. “That’s not your concern. So… will you accept the offer or not?”
The sharpness in his words stung. I didn’t want anything from him, not after everything, but the old wound he’d left behind throbbed painfully.
He sat down, crossing his legs with that same unshakable composure, pouring himself a drink as if my turmoil were invisible.
“My life is complicated,” I said quietly, my voice gathering strength. “My reputation isn’t exactly fit for a nanny.”
For a fleeting moment, something flickered in his eyes—regret, perhaps? But he masked it quickly.
“Your wife wouldn’t approve either,” I added pointedly, using the only polite way I knew to decline his offer.
Despite the resentment clawing at me, I couldn’t deny the pang of envy. His life seemed so perfect. He had wealth, power, a family, everything I had once dreamed of. And I? I had been left barren and broken by betrayal.
It was almost laughable, how unfair it all was. Giovanni, the man who’d shattered me, was thriving, just like Wesley.
He reached for a cigarette, paused, and placed it back on the table. When he stood and walked toward me, instinct made me take a step back.
“Molly Campbell,” he said, his voice low but cutting, “you need a lawyer. But how do you plan to afford one?”
Before I could answer, he opened a drawer under the bed and pulled out my most precious possession.
“With your necklace?” he mocked, holding it up like a trophy.
His words sliced through me. “And then what? How will you face the public?”
Each question was a dagger. How could he be so cruel, so deliberate in exposing my weaknesses?
“Why can’t you hire a professional nanny?” I snapped, anger finally pushing past my pain. “Why me? Do you just enjoy making my life miserable?”
“I have my reasons,” he replied simply.
A hollow laugh escaped me. “Of course you do.”
The pain he and Wesley had caused burned anew. But this time, something inside me hardened.
“I regret ever depending on a man to fix my problems,” I said bitterly. “Not anymore. But tell me, how did you even know I needed a lawyer?”
He smirked, leaning casually against the table. “You told me last night. Though I don’t blame you for forgetting. You were… very open.”
Embarrassment surged through me. “What do you mean?”
His smirk deepened. “You tried to seduce me.”
“Liar,” I hissed, heat flooding my cheeks.
“Relax,” he said coolly. “I’m not here to recreate the past. I just want to make amends… for the pain I caused.”
I swallowed hard, shoving away the memory of last night. The alcohol, the blurred laughter, the dangerous proximity of his touch. This man before me was not my Gianni. He was someone else, harder, colder, unreadable.
Maybe even soulless.
But if fate had thrown us back together, perhaps I could twist it to my advantage. Maybe I could use him to destroy the man who had destroyed me.
“I’ll agree,” I said, lifting my chin. “On one condition.”
His brows arched. “Tell me.”
“Once this is all over, I want to live alone, somewhere far away. An island, maybe. A place where men like you and Wesley can’t reach me.”
Before he could respond, I added firmly, “And you must not interfere in my life once I’ve regained what I lost. I decide where I go, and who I become.”
Something flickered behind his eyes, something dangerously close to admiration.
“A fair agreement,” he said finally, his tone calm, decisive.
Our deal was sealed. Fragile, yet binding.
I sank onto the sofa, facing him as he lounged in the recliner. “So, what’s your son’s name? Do you have a picture of him?”
For the first time that night, Giovanni’s expression softened.
“His name is Roger Dawson,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “He’s four.”
He showed me an image on his phone. A boy with Giovanni’s piercing eyes and an innocent grin. My chest tightened. The child was beautiful.
“He doesn’t like nannies,” Giovanni warned. “So don’t expect it to be easy.” His voice, for once, carried warmth.
I nodded, determined. I didn’t have much experience with children, but I had survived worse. And if being this boy’s nanny would help me reclaim what Wesley stole from me, then I would endure it.
“If you can truly help me take back my company,” I said firmly, “then your son will be happy. I’ll rent a place nearby and start as soon as possible.”
I had planned to sell my necklace to afford the move, but before I could speak, Giovanni surprised me with an offer that left me speechless.