No Strings Attached

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I'm shivering, fucking shivering. Panic is coursing through my veins. He grabs both sides of my face, forcing me to look into his eyes.

"Scarlett, why didn't you tell me?"

I don't want to tell him about the contract. Up until today, I've trusted him implicitly, but right now, I'm not sure. I'm not sure about anyone around me.

He grimaces. "Scarlett, you can't keep sleeping with him, okay? You have to stop."

I stare at him, my breath escaping in the form of hoarse gasps. "I..."

"You what?"

"I can't do that," I confess reluctantly, my mouth trembling with fear, my heart throbbing.

"You can't?" His eyes slowly begin to widen. "It's more than sex, isn't it?"

I feel thick tears spill from my eyes. "I... I love him."

Shock sweeps across his features. "Does he love you?"

"I don't know... I don't know."

"Scarlett, you need to end this. I love you but this... he has the power to destroy your entire fucking life. If this got out, you'd discredit the company, discredit Norman. Martinelli hasn't even been our client for two months. You'd be plagued as another whore publicist he's banged."

I turn from him, running my hand over my tears. My body is refusing to listen to him.

"Are you sure he's not manipulating you? He's been with countless others before. His last publicist quit abruptly too... Scar, he's a fucking womanizer. You're smarter than this!"

I think back to Giovanni's words at the Thai restaurant, where he told me he had fucked his last publicist. I close my eyes.

God, if this were to get out, they'd go straight for her, try to get a scandal out of her.

"Scar, this job is your entire life! It's your legacy! You've worked so damn hard to get here. Is he worth risking it all?"

I hold my chest. It's physically hurting.

I can only get out a few words.

"Summer in IT, please."

***

I stop at Rog's desk. "Has Mr. Martinelli been here yet?"

"Yes, about an hour ago."

I nod, my chest expanding deeply. "You and anyone that works here are contractually silenced involving anything with tenants in this building, am I correct?"

His expression immediately becomes disbelieving. "Of course."

I stare at him, studying his twitches, his movements. It's not him.

"Why are you asking?"

I lick my lips. "I just need to ensure that I'm safe here, that my personal life, my visitors are safe here... from exploitation." I shake my head, trying to reign in my temper. None of this is his fault. "I know you'd never do anything like that to me. I'm referring to when you're not here."

"Everyone that puts on a badge for this desk is told to be invisible. They've signed forms that could incriminate them if they spoke out. Whatever you're worried about isn't anything that's occurred here, Scarlett. I promise you."

I nod, having difficulty swallowing. "Okay, I just wanted to make sure. I know there is a south entrance to the building, used for the cleaning crews and for your entrances. Would there be any way Mr. Martinelli could exit through the back?"

"I'm sure I could get a key. Considering his celebrity status, I'm sure the owner would allow it."

I nod, feeling the first genuine smile in over ten hours form on my face. "Thank you."

"Of course, Scarlett. I'm here for you if you need anything. I will talk to the owner now and see if I can bring you up a key."

I nod, turning away from him, my embarrassment cloaking me like a trophy. I start up the steps, not sure how I'm going to explain anything, what I'm going to tell Giovanni.

My brain, which has been working all day, is telling me to end this. End it right now. My heart, my gut, is saying something else entirely.

I stick my key in and turn the knob, already shedding my coat, entering my apartment. Giovanni looks up from his computer, his hair wet from a shower.

"Hey."

I nod, shutting the door gently, locking it, kicking off my heels by the door. "Hey."

"So, why did I need to be careful coming here?" he asks, amusement present in his voice.

Oh, how fast that's about to change.

I turn around to face him, my fingers flinging my keys around nervously.

I thought the entire way home on exactly how I was going to tell him. But my mouth won't open. It won't even budge.

His eyes, which were gentle before, immediately sense my fear. He stands up from the couch, moving around the island. My face is cradled in his strong hands within seconds. My eyes are flickering to the window.

"What? What's wrong? What's happened?"

"We..." A nervous sound escapes my throat. "We..."

Fuck, I can't say it.

His brows curve together with worry. "Baby, tell me."

I drop my bag, my keys onto the ground with a thud, choking out a gasp as I stand up on the tips of my toes to wrap my arms around him, grasping onto his clothing tightly, digging my face into his chest, searching for some small amount of security.

His arms come protectively around my body, his hand clasping the nape of my neck gently.

"Scarlett..." he whispers worriedly, his cheek against my hair.

"SCARLETT!"

My head snaps up at the sound of my name being howled from outside the apartment.

Fuck. It sends chills up my spine.

Giovanni's hands slowly begin to leave me as he backs up, turning. Oh no.

"Giovanni," I breathe fearfully as he peers out of the window. I watch in horror as his back goes rigid. His head begins to shake from side to side. His hands fist, knuckles pale white.

No.

"Scarlett! Come down here!" Dixon bellows.

"Oh, FUCK THIS!" Giovanni snarls, viciously. With a sharp turn, he bounds for the door, leaving the fragile block of wood swinging in his wake.

"Giovanni, no!"