Tangled In Strings

Chapter Twenty-Six

"I told you you'd be in for hell," Norman hums to Giovanni, looking back down at his paper. Giovanni scoffs, and walks to the decanter of dark liquid. I don't want to step inside. I don't want to be here. I've waited and yearned for this moment for so long, when I can look upon Giovanni without secrecy, but right now, still reeling from the altercation outside, Dixon's words, and the argument in the elevator, the last place I want to be is here.

I'm going out.

I turn on my heel, shutting the door behind me. I'm by the elevator when Giovanni's voice sounds from the doorway.

"Where are you going?"

"Somewhere."

"Not on your own you're not."

"You make your own decisions, Gio. I'll make mine," I growl, knowing full well I should turn the hell around and finish this with him.

"Scarlett..."

I pivot, so I can meet his gaze. He's holding his drink by his thigh, but hasn't left the doorway.

He's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Just the thought of his beauty crushes my heart daily, and he doesn't even know it. But right now, he's also withdrawn, reeling from his own thoughts, his own fears, his own actions.

Neither of us can find a calm place. Space and reflection is the only option.

He's just made the biggest decision of his life.

And because I love him, and because I know how difficult this decision must have been to make, I want to help him. His refusal of my help is unfathomable, because I know if the situation were reversed, he'd force me to listen to him. He'd force me to take the money.

This day has taken a turn, in the best and worst possible way. And it's utterly hard to swallow.

"You know you are my hero, Giovanni," I whisper into our silence, needing to say it, needing him to hear it. His eyes, which have been hard as stone, falter considerably at those words. "There's no denying how...how good you are, or how much I love you for that goodness."

The doors slide open with a ding, and when I begin to move, he utters my name with quickness and I stop.

I hear him speak low, and checking on him, I find him talking to someone inside the apartment. He moves to the side as I hold the elevator, and one of the bodyguards exits the apartment, on his way to me. I scowl at Giovanni, and he regards me, without affect.

"You go with him, or not at all."

Who does he think he is?

The authoritative bite in his threat makes whatever blood that had cooled in my veins, boil.

We're in all-out pissing contests. My whispered words of love have done nothing to rid us of our stubbornness. Knowing I shouldn't, I step into the elevator, waiting for the guard to enter as well before, I look up and murmur sweetly, "Don't wait up."

The doors close.

...

The sharp heel of my shoes wedges between the rod on the bar stool as the bartender sets down a drink in front of me. I sit up off my elbows, and take it with a weak smile.

"You sure I can't get you something stronger?"

I look down at the sweet tea, and shake my head. "No. Thanks."

He begins to wipe down the bar, which has emptied considerably in the late hour. I'm appreciating the dark atmosphere, the low hum of chatter from the people seated waiting for the singer to come out onto stage. My watcher is at one of those tables, giving me enough privacy to be satisfied, but hovering just close enough to be able to make it to me within seconds.