Chapter 16 Conflicting Emotions
GIOVANNI POV
My gaze lingered on Arya as she worked on my wound, her fingers were steady against my skin.
The lights from the chandelier above cast shadows across her concentrated face, and I found myself fighting a desire that had no place in any moment with her.
The room was silent execpt for the metallic clink of instruments and her soft breathing as she leaned closer.
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to focus on anything else. I tried to think of the bastards who'd ambushed them but the warmth of her touch and the way she smelled made my thoughts spiral in dangerous directions.
When she finally stepped back, there was a satisfied nod in her movement, almost proud. She held up two bloodied bullets between her fingers, the evidence of her handiwork.
I glanced down at my torso. The stitches were neat, they might not even require a doctor's follow-up.
"You're useful after all," I said, my tone dripping with mockery.
Her body stiffened immediately, and I saw the flash of hurt in her eyes before she masked it.
Good. Distance was what we needed.
Enzo approached from across the room, his face grim. "Boss, what do you want us to do about the Serpientes?"
My expression hardened, the playful cruelty vanishing. "Burn it down."
"What?" He arched a brow.
"Their drug house on Fifth. Burn it to the fucking ground." I turned to face my men fully, ignoring the pull in my stomach. "They attacked us like cowards and ambushed us in the open. Send them a message they won't forget. No one touches my crew and walks away."
"Consider it done," Enzo said with a dark smile.
"And make sure everyone knows why," I added, my voice cold. "I want the entire city to understand what happens when you come for me."
I stood then, perhaps too quickly. The room tilted slightly, a wave of dizziness washing over me. I gripped the back of the chair to steady myself.
"Boss-" Enzo was at my side in an instant, hand reaching out to support me.
"I'm fine," I snapped, jerking away from the touch.
My pride wouldn't allow weakness, not in front of my men or her.
But I caught the look on Arya's face, concern mixed with something else. Judgment, maybe.
Like she could see right through my bravado to the pain underneath. I hated that look and the thought that she might pity me.
I huffed and strode toward my office, my movements deliberate despite the throbbing in my stomach. Enzo fell into step behind me, eyeing me in concern.
"I'll call the doctor," Enzo said quietly as we walked down the corridor.
"No need." I snapped.
"Giovanni-"
"Just get me painkillers." My tone left no room for argument and Enzo sighed
.
We reached my office door and I grabbed the handle, but Enzo's voice stopped me.
"Giovanni."
"What?" I didn't turn around to see whatever expression my second-in-command was wearing.
There was a long pause. When I finally glanced back, Enzo looked like he was wrestling with something, words fighting to get out. Then he shook his head.
"Nothing. I'll get the pills."
I watched him go before entering my office and closing the door behind me. The click of the lock felt like a small relief.
But even in the privacy of my own space, I couldn't escape her.
My mind replayed the scene against my will. I could still vividly remember Arya's face so close to mine, and the way her breath had ghosted across my torso as she worked.
But what damned me the most was the sight of her pale, smooth cleavage that spilled from her low-cut dress.
A sinister part of me had thought of a dozen different ways to torture them.
"Fuck," I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair.
I pushed the thoughts away violently, forcing them into a dark corner of my mind where they belonged.
She was nothing. A temporary inconvenience. I wasn’t going to let myself feel anything other than contempt towards her.
A knock at the door shattered my attempts at mental discipline.
"What?" i barked.
The door opened, and of course it was her. Because the universe had a sick sense of humor.
Fuck me, I thought.
Arya stepped inside, her hand outstretched. "You forgot this."
It was my bracelet. The one my mother had given me, I never took if off for any reason. So it must’ve slipped off during the commotion.
How had I not noticed?
Alarm shot through me and I snatched it from her palm, perhaps more roughly than necessary. "Thank you. You may leave."
But she didn't leave. She kept watching me like I was a fucking specimen to be studied.
I moved toward her, drawn by some magnetic pull I resented. Her scent hit me again, that maddening floral sweetness that seemed to cling to the air around her.
I stopped inches away, close enough to see the defiance in her eyes.
"I don't like to repeat myself," I said, my voice low with danger. "Leave now, or you’ll get punished."
She didn't flinch nor did she back down. So I reached out and wrapped my hand around her throat, not squeezing, just holding to make my point.
Her pulse fluttered against my palm like a trapped bird.
"I got shot, dolcezza. I didn't lose a limb." I leaned closer, my lips near her ear. "And even if I had, I'm more than capable of punishing you."
I felt her swallow against my grip and I pulled back to pin her with my glare.
Her lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "You make it so easy for people to regret helping you."
A smirk tugged at my mouth. "I don't care for sentiments."
I leaned in closer still, deliberately ignoring those plump lips that had no business being so distracting.
My breath fanned across her cheek as I whispered, "Now get the fuck out."
I released her with a small push, and she stumbled back a step. For a moment we just stared at each other, the air crackling with tension.
Then she scoffed, turned on her heel, and walked out. The door slammed behind her hard enough to rattle the frame.
I stood frozen for a moment, my hand still tingling from where it had touched her skin. Then I moved to my desk and gripped the edge, my knuckles turning white with the force of it.
"I need a drink,” I muttered to the empty room, "before I lose it completely."