Marissa
Goosebumps rise on my arms.
I’ve never had a guy dress me before. There’s something so intimate to Gio closing the zipper of my skirt-more intimate, even, than the strip search. Than standing in front of him with my skirt off.
It’s like something a married guy does with his wife. In the movies, though. Only in the movies. I don’t know; I only have my grandparents as examples, but I feel like married couples become way too practical for dressing each other.
I’m giddy now. All my fears and anxieties morphed into something exciting. The relief of paying for Mia’s surgery, mingles with the anticipation of showing off my cooking skills, all woven together with a heavy layer of sexual tension.
“Come on, I’ll drive you to the hospital.” Gio’s still right behind me, his deep, gruff voice doing crazy things to my core.
I turn, surprised. “You will?”
He arches a cocky brow. The frightening mafioso is gone now and charming Gio is back. “You think I’m going to let you toddle out in those heels? You barely made it here.”
My face grows warm. “You noticed that, huh?”
Gio’s eyes crinkle up and he holds out a hand. His lanky form is relaxed; he oozes confidence and ease. “Which hospital?”
I hesitate for a moment before putting my hand in his. This is it.
I’m joining with the devil.
My small palm slides over his larger one and he closes his fingers.
I clear my throat. “St. Francis, but I have to stop at the bank to get a cashier’s check.”
“All right. Let’s go.”
“Thanks for the ride,” I murmur when we pull into the hospital lot. The crisp cashier’s check is in my hand, but Gio doesn’t let me out in front; he parks and gets out.
I thought the ride was exceptionally generous, especially considering the way things went down between us. But now I wonder what his game is.
“Are you making sure I didn’t lie about what I need the money for?”
One corner of his lips quirk in that knowing smile. “You didn’t lie.” He walks around his beautiful Mercedes G-wagon to my side and settles a hand on my lower back.
“You don’t need to come in,” I tell him. I still can’t figure it out, which makes me uneasy.
“I’m coming in.”
This is the part that worries me. A Tacone does what he wants. There’s no asking. No negotiations. And I just opened the door and let him firmly back into our lives.
I stop mulishly. “Why, Gio?”
“Because I want to, doll. Stop being so ungracious.” The words roll out easily, but I get the sense I offended him again.
But that doesn’t make sense.
I start walking again, sneaking glances at him as we go.
“What?” he demands when we get in an elevator up to the finance floor.
I shake my head quickly.
He exhales, like he’s conceding something. “I’m here to watch your back, Marissa. You carry a lot of weight for your family. Least I can do is drive your ass to the hospital and go in with you to make sure it gets done right.”
I blink back the heat that sears my eyeballs. Just having someone acknowledge the weight on my shoulders comes as a relief, but to also hear that Gio Tacone actually does care about me and my family-as he’s been professing-comes as a shock. Guilt for all my mistrust, for my attempted blackmail and all my bitchiness floods through me. I check to see if my mouth is hanging open.
“I know, shocker.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and leans a shoulder against the elevator wall. “And you thought I was incapable of doing anything nice.”
“I didn’t-” but I stop the protest, because he’s right.
The elevator stops and we get out. I square my shoulders and stride toward the business office. I’m glad I wore the skirt and heels now, because they lend me confidence. I feel strangely strong and sexy. Is it because I have Gio at my back? Or because that’s how he sees me, and I sense his appreciation? I shoot him a sidelong glance and he returns it, one corner of his mouth turning up like he’s sex on a stick.
Funny, how I do want to reward him with sex now. I guess that’s the difference. I didn’t want it to be something he took from me. Or demanded. Now he’s earned it.
Oh, lordy. Why am I even thinking about sex with Gio? Not happening. Bad idea. He’s a player and a mobster. Not that man I want to tango with.
We get to the business office and I slide the check across the desk. “I’m here to pay for Mia Milano’s surgery.” I lift my chin. One word and she’s going to get an earful about what I think about this hospital and their blackmailing techniques.
She types in Mia’s name and clicks on her computer for a few minutes. “Okay, your total is $32, 784. 59.”
I look at the check. Why hadn’t I considered it might be more than thirty grand? “This is thirty thousand. I’ll put the rest on my credit card.”
“No.” Gio shoves his hand inside his jacket pocket and produces a huge wad of cash. He counts out twenty-eight hundred-dollar bills. “This will cover it.”
I refuse to show my gratitude for it, or let on how much seeing a handsome man throw down that amount of cash without blinking an eye affects me. I just take the money and slide it over, like dealing with such a sum is something I do every day.
“We don’t usually accept a large amount of cash. I’ll have to call my supervisor to make sure we can take this.”
“You do that,” Gio says. On another man it might sound rude or condescending, but this is Gio, so the clerk thinks he’s flirting. She blushes and smiles at him with the phone to her ear. A few minutes later, she hangs up. “We can take it.” She counts it all and calls for a security guy to deposit it. “You’re all set, then. I’ll let the doctor know you’re paid up and Mia’s surgery can go on as scheduled tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” I say tightly and turn away before I go off on her. It’s not her fault this country has a broken healthcare system.
We walk back to the elevator without saying a word. Only when we’re in it do I turn and look Gio full in the face. “You’ll add the extra to my tab, I presume?”
He purses his lips, like he finds me amusing, but doesn’t speak for a moment. “It’s on me, doll.”
That shouldn’t get me wet. We’re not on a date. He didn’t just pay for dinner. In fact, I know from my grandfather’s dealings with Arturo Tacone that nothing comes free with these guys. But there’s some stupid biology involved. Sexy alpha male as wealthy, powerful provider. Hormones are flooding my system. My internal biology is screaming yes! Pick this one!
Silly, silly ovaries. Stop dropping eggs. We’re not hooking up with this guy. Definitely not having his babies.
Still, I find myself locked in his gaze, mirroring that amused, secret smile he wears.
The elevator opens and I snap back to reality. “I can find my own way home. Thank you, Gio.”
“Nah. I’m driving you home, angel. No arguments.”
No arguments. He’s bossy as hell. Which also shouldn’t be a turn-on.
“I live with my grandparents,” I blurt, in case he’s thinking I’m going to have sex with him when we get home.
Amusement flickers over his face. He opens my door for me.
“I don’t want them to know about this,” I tell him.
He goes still. “All right,” he says slowly.
I climb into the seat to keep from saying more, not wanting to offend him. And I know by now that he does ruffle, despite the casual debonair attitude he wears so well.
He walks around and gets in the driver side. “You didn’t sign over the cafe. You’re just cooking food.”
“I know, but they wouldn’t like it,” I admit.
“They have a problem with me?” he demands.
Dammit. He took offense. I can’t help but admire his directness, though. He’s a man accustomed to getting to the bottom of things. Apparently not just with his fists.
“Not with you, specifically,” I hedge. Which is true. “But I didn’t tell them I was going to you for the money. They’d be worried about accruing debt to the Tacones again.”
“It’s not the Tacones, it’s me,” Gio says, like that clears everything up. “The Family doesn’t own the marker. I won’t put it in our books, okay? It’s just between you and me.”
I’m wet again. I don’t know why his willingness to extend kindness to me has such an effect, but it does.
“So, you won’t tell my grandparents?”
“Nah.”
“Promise?”
“Lo prometto.” He takes a hand off the wheel and holds it up like he’s swearing to a judge. His sexy black SUV darts through traffic, his driving prowess no less impressive than everything else he does.
I sit back in the comfortable leather seat and allow myself to believe everything’s going to be all right.
To believe I can trust Gio Tacone and that I didn’t just sign my soul over to the devil.