Chapter 43 A Mistake
ARYA’S POV
I was lost in the sensation of his lips on my neck, the way his hands held me and his heart racing against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
When he pulled away, I reached for him instinctively, my body protesting the sudden loss of contact, but he stepped back, putting distance between us.
I blinked away the haze, staring at him in confusion. “Giovanni-“
"This was a mistake," he said, his voice flat.
I blinked again, sure I'd misheard. "What?"
"This." He gestured vaguely between us, still not meeting my eyes. "This was a mistake. I shouldn't have kissed you."
My stomach dropped and my mouth opened but words had failed me.
"But you… we just-" I stammered, trying to make sense of what was happening.
"It won't happen again," he interrupted, his tone cold now. "I lost control and I apologize for it."
He turned and walked away, leaving me standing there in the shadows like some discarded thing.
A mistake. That's what I was.
The anger started as a spark in my chest and quickly grew into an inferno. My hands clenched into fists at my sides as I watched his retreating back, as I replayed his words over and over in my head.
"A mistake," I muttered to myself, my voice shaking with fury. "It was just a mistake."
How dare he? How dare he kiss me like I mattered, like and then dismiss it as a mistake?
I stormed back into the event hall, my heels clicking sharply against the stone pathway. My vision was tinged red with anger, my breath coming in short, sharp pants.
I spotted Giovanni immediately, he was standing with a group of men in expensive suits, laughing at something one of them said, looking completely unbothered while I felt like I was coming apart.
A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne, and I grabbed a glass without slowing down. Then I stopped him, taking two more.
The waiter gave me a look, probably wondering what kind of person needed three glasses at once, but I didn't care. I was too angry to care about anything.
I downed the first glass in three large gulps, the bubbles burning my throat. Then I started on the second.
The sound of music filled the courtyard and couples around me rushed toward the dance floor in pairs, laughing and chatting, and I wanted to scream at them that love was a lie and romance was just another way to hurt people.
"Excuse me?"
I turned to find a young man with jet black hair. standing beside me.
"Would you like to dance?" he asked in heavily accented English.
Any other time, I would have politely declined but Giovanni's words were still echoing in my head.
"I'd love to," I said, plastering on a bright smile and downing my third glass of champagne.
The young man's face lit up. "Really? Oh, wonderful! I'm Antonio, by the way."
"Arya," I said, letting him lead me toward the dance floor even though my head was already starting to feel fuzzy from the alcohol consumed too quickly on an empty stomach.
Antonio was sweet in that earnest, awkward way of someone who wasn't used to beautiful women saying yes to him.
His hands were clammy when he took mine, and he kept stepping on my feet, apologizing profusely each time.
"I'm sorry," he said for the fourth time. "I'm not very good at this. My sister made me come tonight. She said I needed to be more social, and then I saw you, and you're so beautiful, and I thought maybe…”
I wasn't listening. I was too busy scanning the crowd until I found Giovanni again. He was watching us now, his conversation forgotten, his jaw tight and his eyes dark with something that looked like fury.
Good. Let him be angry. Let him feel a fraction of what he'd made me feel.
“… and so I told her that accounting was actually very interesting if you understood the principles behind…"
"Mmhmm," I hummed, still not paying attention to poor Antonio's rambling about his job.
The song changed to something slower, more intimate. Antonio adjusted his grip, pulling me slightly closer, and I saw Giovanni's hands clench at his sides.
Then he was moving toward us, still glaring at me.
"Excuse me," Giovanni said, appearing beside us so suddenly that Antonio jumped. "It seems you didn’t realize who you were dancing with.”
"Oh! Mr. De Santis, I didn't realize… I mean, I should have asked if she was your wife.” Antonio was already backing away, practically tripping over himself to put distance between us.
Giovanni ignored him completely, his attention fixed on me as Antonio scurried off.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Giovanni asked.
"Dancing," I snapped. "What does it look like? Or is that a mistake too?"
His eyes flashed. "Don't-"
"Don't what?" I interrupted, my voice rising. "Don't dance with other men? Don't have fun? Don't exist in a way that inconveniences you?"
"Arya."
"You don't get to do this," I said, my words coming faster now, fueled by champagne and hurt. "You don't get to kiss me like that and then call it a mistake. You don't get to act like you own me and then pretend I don't matter."
Giovanni’s jaw tightened and he stepped closer. "This isn't the place for it."
"I don't care!" I was almost shouting now, and I could feel people starting to stare. "I don't care about your stupid event or your business deals or any of it!"
I turned to leave, to get away from him before I said something even worse, but the dance floor had become crowded. My head was swimming, my stomach twisting, and suddenly I couldn't tell which way was out.
"Arya." Giovanni's voice, closer now, tinged with concern. "Arya, stop."
But I kept pushing through the crowd, desperate for anything that wasn't his face and the memory of his lips on mine.
Someone's elbow caught me in the ribs and someone else stepped on my heel. The world tilted sickeningly.
"Arya!"
It was too late.
My stomach rebelled violently. I barely made it to the edge of the dance floor before I doubled over and threw up, champagne and bile splashing across the pristine stone pathway.
There were gasps, murmurs, the music stuttering to a confused halt.
Someone screamed and through my watering eyes, I saw the crowd parting, everyone backing away from me like I was contagious.