No Strings Attached

Chapter Twelve

"You really weren't kidding about your apartment," he says conversationally once we're in my bedroom. I turn back nervously, painstakingly aware that the Italian Adonis is circling my bedroom. "The books, I mean."

I laugh, reaching up to grab a black dress, the first thing in my line of sight. "I wasn't lying. The worst part is that half of these haven't even been touched."

"You should try to knock some out on your next vacation then."

"Vacation?" I laugh at the thought.

"Don't tell me."

"Never."

"You've never taken a damn vacation?" I laugh at his tone. "Fuck, Scarlett. I'm a fellow workaholic, but sometimes you just have to get out."

I don't tell him that Dixon never wanted to leave work, not even for a honeymoon. Nor do I say that I haven't had an opportunity to go with someone since Dixon and I ended things. That would just be pathetic.

"One of these days, I'll schedule something, maybe." I walk from the bedroom into the bathroom to change into my clothes.

"So, you going to tell me what happened yesterday then?" he calls out after a few moments of silence. I hear him sit down on my mattress. I remove my robe slowly, contemplating how much I want to let him in on. I don't want to tell him anything, but I know he's not going to leave empty-handed.

He wants to be friends. Friends. Fuck, this is how it all starts, isn't it?

I take a deep breath. "I was married before."

"Yes, I know."

"How do you know?"

"You're not the only one with internet."

I poke my head out the door. "What was on the internet about me?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing bad. It was your bio for the firm. You haven't changed your married name on there."

I sigh with relief, walking back into the bathroom. "Oh."

"What's his name?"

Everything within me tells me I should stop talking. This is about to get really personal. "Dixon. Dixon Routh."

I focus on clasping the back of my bra into place.

"Is he the reason why you don't want anything serious?"

"He's part of it."

I pull up the dress, gasping when the door opens. I stare at Giovanni as he leans into the entrance, folding his arms—clearly frustrated, clearly amused.

"This is like pulling teeth, Scarlett."

I know I'm bright red. I hold the dress to my body, chuckling nervously. "I'm not used to this. I feel unprepared. Even my friends barely know anything about him."

"I'm a fresh pair of ears, a new perspective."

"You're also very persistent, you know that, right? And intimidating? And completely unsettling?"

"I don't think any of those are compliments."

"On most days, they aren't insults when it comes to you," I reply bluntly, looking down.

"You're trying to distract me, and it's not working," he hums after a moment. I roll my eyes, reaching back with one hand to attempt to zip the dress up. I sigh when it won't budge. Giovanni stands upright and walks over to me.

I let go of the zipper when he stops behind me. He zips up the back carefully.

"Why do you want to know this, Giovanni?"

His dark eyes meet mine in the mirror. "You know so much about me, and yet, you are a complete mystery."

"So much? I know nothing about you."

"You know about Lola. No one knows about her."

"That's because I'm your publicist. You have to tell me things."

"And you're a woman I am going to regularly be in bed with. I think it would be nice to know a little more than your dress size and preference of books."

I smirk reluctantly, turning around to face him. "I guess you have a point when you put it that way."

"I know I do," he says arrogantly. My skin flushes as I exit the bathroom. I know he's following me. My eyes catch the clock. I normally would be out of the house fifteen minutes ago, on my way to get coffee to prepare me for the day.

I should kick him out. I should tell him I need to be going. But I don't.

I don't want him to leave. For days, I've wanted him to be in front of me, and now he's actually here.

"Are you going back soon? Do you have a plane to catch?"

"You're that desperate to see me go?"

I bite my lip, leaning back against the dresser, beginning to feel like myself. Like the person who cannot stand in this man's presence without wanting him. "On the contrary."

Tall and commanding, he stands amongst my flesh-toned furniture, a contrasting darkness. He seems surprised. "My plane leaves at five."

Five.

I turn, grabbing my phone, and dialing work.

Rebecca answers almost immediately. "Hey, Scarlett. You on your way in?"

"I'm actually feeling pretty sick... I'm not coming in today. I'll work from home tonight once I begin to feel better."

I sense Giovanni move from the other side of the room.

"Shit, have you caught the flu going around? You never take time off."

"No, no. I think it's just allergies or something."

My body tenses the moment he's behind me. I relax into his proximity as our dangerous situation quickens my pulse, weakening when his lips press to my shoulder, his fingers already easing down the zipper he just had his hands on.

"I'll let Norman know."

I nod, my breath short as he slides his hand under the material and around my body, molding to my back. "A-All right. Thanks."

"Feel better—"

I'm already hanging up, spinning around with a sharp gasp right before his mouth crushes upon my own.