Chapter 61 One Perfect Day
ARYA’S POV
"Absolutely not," Giovanni said, crossing his arms and planting his feet like a stubborn child. "I agreed to come with you. I didn't agree to participate."
We were standing in the spa's reception area, surrounded by the soothing scent of lavender and the soft sounds of meditation music.
The spa workers, two cheerful Italian women who clearly recognized Giovanni and were doing their best not to show it, as they exchanged amused glances.
"But that's the whole point!" I protested. "You can't just sit there and watch me get pampered. That's weird."
"I'm providing security."
"You're providing excuses." I turned to one of the workers and read the name on her tag. “Sofia, tell him that couples' spa treatments are meant to be done together."
Sofia's eyes darted between us nervously. "Well, signora, typically both guests do participate in the couples treatments."
"See?" I looked at Giovanni triumphantly. "Even Sofia thinks you should participate."
"I don't need a facial," he said flatly. "My face is fine."
"Your face is stressed," I countered. "Look at that frown line between your eyebrows. You're going to have a permanent crease if you're not careful."
His hand moved to his forehead automatically before he caught himself. "There's no frown line on my face."
"And those tension lines around your jaw," I continued, warming to my argument. "Probably from all that teeth grinding you do when you're trying not to murder people."
Sofia made a sound that might have been a suppressed laugh.
Giovanni glared at her, then at me. "Fine, but I'm not wearing a robe."
"You absolutely are wearing a robe."
"Arya!.
"Giovanni." I moved closer, looking up at him with what I hoped were persuasive eyes. "Please? Just try it. If you hate it, you can leave. But give it a chance."
He stared at me for a long moment, and I could see the internal battle playing out behind his eyes. Finally, he sighed and it was a deep sound that made me want to laugh.
"One hour," he said. "And if anyone mentions this to Enzo, I'm firing them."
Twenty minutes later, Giovanni De Santis, the ruthless mafia boss and feared businessman was lying on a spa table with a clay mask on his face, looking absolutely miserable.
I was lying on the table next to him, also clay-masked, trying very hard not to laugh.
"This feels ridiculous," he muttered, his lips barely moving beneath the hardening clay. "Why does it burn?"
"It's not burning, it's tingling," I corrected. "It's supposed to do that."
"It's burning."
"Giovanni, you were shot in the shoulder. I think you can handle a little clay mask tingle."
"That was different. That was a bullet. This is... what even is this?"
"Volcanic mud," Sofia said cheerfully, applying more product to his temples. "Very good for the skin. It reduces inflammation, draws out toxins and-"
"There's a rock in it," Giovanni interrupted. "I can feel a rock."
"That's an exfoliating particle, signore."
"It's a rock."
I lost it. I started laughing so hard that I had to put my hand over my clay-covered mouth to keep from disturbing the other guests.
Giovanni turned his head to glare at me, which only made him look more ridiculous with half his face covered in gray-green mud.
"This is your fault," he said, but I could hear the smile trying to break through his stern tone.
"You look so relaxed," I managed between giggles.
"I look like a swamp creature."
"An extremely well-moisturized swamp creature."
The corner of his mouth twitched.
After we had showered off the various masks and oils, we headed to the mall.
Giovanni had arranged for a private shopping area in one of the high-end boutiques. The entire third floor had been cleared for us, with only a handful of carefully vetted staff allowed to assist.
"This is excessive," I said as we walked through racks of designer clothes.
He ignored me and shrugged instead. “Try things on. Take your time."
I selected several items from dresses to pants, and anything that caught my eye, then I headed to the dressing room.
It was large and luxurious, with a full-length mirror and a small sitting area outside where Giovanni settled into an armchair like he was preparing to judge a fashion show.
The first few outfits were easy. I would step out, show him, then he would nod or make a noncommittal sound, and I would go back in and try the next one.
But then I pulled on a dress, it was a beautiful emerald silk and I couldn't figure out how they were supposed to connect.
"Um," I called through the door. "I might need help."
"With what?" Giovanni called back and I sucked in a breath.
"This dress has a very confusing back situation."
There was a pause. "Should I get an attendant?"
"They're all downstairs helping someone else." I cracked the door open. "Can you just... it'll take two seconds."
Giovanni stood and approached the dressing room like he was and when I opened the door fully, his eyes widened slightly.
The dress fit perfectly in the front but the back was a disaster of loose straps that I couldn't reach.
"I just need you to connect these," I said, turning around and holding my hair out of the way.
I heard him swallow then his hands were on my back, warm through the silk, working at the delicate straps with surprising gentleness.
"Like this?" he asked, his voice rougher than usual.
"I think so? Is there a clasp or a-"
His fingers brushed against my spine as he adjusted the straps, and I felt that touch everywhere. The dressing room suddenly felt very small.
"There," he said finally, but he didn't step back immediately.
I turned to face him, and we were so close I could see the flecks of lighter gray in his eyes and even smell his cologne mixed with the spa products we had both used.
"It looks good on you," he said quietly.
I bit back a smile. "Thank you."
We stood there for a moment that stretched too long, the air between us charged with something I didn't want to name.
Then Giovanni cleared his throat and stepped back, putting distance between us. "Get a few more in that color. It suits you."
I nodded mutely and ducked back into the dressing room, closing the door and leaning against it.
What are you doing? I asked myself silently.
I was busy getting flustered over him helping me with a dress? This was Giovanni, the man who humiliated me and who was holding my family hostage.
I pressed my hands to my burning cheeks.
This was dangerous. This soft, kind version of Giovanni was more dangerous than the cold, cruel one because I knew how to fight that version.
But this? This unexpected gentleness?
I had no defenses against it.
I changed into my regular clothes and stepped back out, intending to tell him I was ready to leave.
But Giovanni was on his phone, his back to me, and I found myself just... looking at him.
At the strong line of his shoulders beneath his jacket and the way his hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck. My chest skipped at the confident way he held himself, like he owned whatever space he occupied.
"Signora?"
I jumped, turning to see one of the attendants beside me, a knowing smile on her face.
"You're very lucky," she said quietly in accented English. "He's quite handsome, no? And the way he looks at you..." She made a chef's kiss gesture. "Very romantic."
I forced a tight smile. "Thank you."
Giovanni turned then, ending his call, and when he saw me, he smiled. "The archery range next?" he asked.
My heart stuttered again. "Yes," I heard myself say. "The archery range."
I was blindly agreeing now, just following wherever he led, and some part of me knew I should be more careful. That this was probably another manipulation, another way to control me.
But another part of me… the part that was tired and lonely and desperate for one day of happiness, just wanted
to enjoy this.
Even if it was fake and would hurt later. For today, I would let myself have this and hope my resolve didn't crumble completely by the end of it.