CHAPTER 245: TEMPTATION

CHAPTER 245: TEMPTATION
"Maria?” Giovanni called out, knocking twice on her bedroom door. “You up?"

"Come in!" her muffled voice called out from inside.

Giovanni turned the knob and pushed the door open. "Alex said you should—"

The words froze in his throat.

Maria was standing in the middle of the room, completely dripping wet, wrapped in nothing but a small white bath towel tucked loosely over her chest. She was in the middle of vigorously toweling her hair dry, her wild dark curls damp and sticking to her collarbones. 

Her skin was shiny and flushed from the hot steam, smooth and bare down her thighs, glistening under the sunlight.

Maria stood in the middle of the room with a towel wrapped around her body, another towel in her hands as she dried her hair.

For one long second, neither moved.

Giovanni’s eyes widened.

Maria’s mouth fell open.

Then he immediately stepped backward and shut the door. “Fuck.”

“Giovanni!” She yelled in indignation. 

“I am so sorry!”

“You idiot!”

"I said I'm so sorry!" Giovanni barked out, stepping back instantly, his eyes wide with utter shock. "Oh shoot! Sorry! Um… you told me I could come in!"

"No!" Maria yelled, her cheeks flushing a bright crimson as she snatched the edges of her towel tighter against her body. "I told you I'm coming!"

“You didn’t say it clearly enough!” She thundered. 

“Get out!”

“I am out!” He yelled back, quickly rushing down the hall. 

When he got to the sitting room doorway, he stopped and pressed his back against the wall, taking a deep, steadying breath. 

His heart was hammering against his ribs as a sudden, sharp heat surged low in his gut, a heavy twitch running straight down to his groin.

He looked down at his jeans, feeling his dick harden against the denim. "Behave yourself," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Jesus Christ. She had been completely soaked. Her bare shoulders, the curve of her hip where the towel ended, the damp droplets tracing down her chest… it was a sensory overload he hadn't prepared for. 

He let out a long, ragged exhale, trying to flush the image from his mind as he got a cup of coffee from the kitchen, then walked back to the living room. 

He dropped heavily on a sofa, adjusting his posture to hide the sudden, persistent tent in his lap.

“Behave yourself,” he growled down at it. 

His body apparently had other plans.

“Three days,” he muttered. “Three fucking days living in the same house and suddenly you’re a teenager.”

A few minutes later, the bedroom door clicked open.

Maria stepped into the living room, dressed in a baggy grey sweatshirt and loose track pants. Her cheeks were still flushed with a deep, adorable blush, her eyes darting awkwardly to the floor as she cleared her throat.

"Um... what was it you wanted to tell me?" she asked softly, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Giovanni cleared his throat, keeping his arms crossed over his waist as he leaned back into the cushions. "Oh. Yeah. Alex said he’s leaving the house today to handle some things. If you want to go over and stay with Bella—"

Maria snapped her head up, her eyes flashing. "Of course I'm going to go see Bella!"

"Calm your horses," Giovanni chuckled, gesturing with his hand. "I’m just telling you that if you go, you need the master access code for the private elevator. He wanted me to give it to you."

"Oh," Maria murmured, her posture relaxing slightly. "Okay. What's the code?"

"Seven-four-nine-two," Giovanni said. "Tell the ground-floor doorman 'Raven' and he'll unlock the private lift."

"Seven-four-nine-two. Got it." Maria nodded, turning back into her room. She emerged a moment later carrying her small crossbody purse.

Giovanni reached into his pocket and tossed a set of heavy brass car keys onto the coffee table. He had assigned her one of his custom, fully armored executive sedans. "Keys are on the table. Remember..."

Maria rolled her eyes, cutting him off with a dramatic sigh as she picked them up. "Roll up all the glass windows, make sure the doors automatically lock, and don't stop for anyone on the street. I know, Giovanni. I'm not a child."

Giovanni let out a low, warm laugh, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. "Look at you and your sass. Just be careful out there."

"I always am," she muttered, turning on her heel and heading toward the front door.

As the lock clicked shut behind her, Giovanni finally released a long breath, stretching his legs out and letting his head fall back against the sofa cushions. He looked down at his lap, shaking his head.

It had been three days since she moved into his apartment, and having her here was slowly driving him out of his mind. He wasn't a playboy like Alexandro used to be; he didn't sleep around casually, and he hadn't touched a woman since his ex turned out to be a rat for a rival faction. He was backed up, plain and simple.

Get a grip, he told himself sternly. Stop acting like a starved teenager.

Yet, he couldn't shake the quick mental image he had caught during those few seconds she was in her towel. Beneath her damp hair, high on the smooth skin of her upper back, he had caught a split-second glimpse of old, faded scar tissue—jagged, faint lines that looked eerily like old, healed beatings. Maria wore oversized hoodies and baggy shirts constantly, covering every inch of her body. He wondered what kind of dark, awful history she was hiding beneath those heavy clothes, but he knew if he pushed her on it, she would tell him to go to hell.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, cutting off his thoughts.

He pulled it out and answered. 

"I'm downstairs," Alexandro's deep voice spoke through the speaker.