Marissa
I’m not sure I even recognize myself.
Gio cracked open this whole sexual side of me I didn’t know existed. And now that she’s out, I don’t know how to put her away.
I don’t want to put her away.
I love the way Gio makes me feel-like I’m the center of the universe.
Being abandoned by my mom as a child left scars on me. The kind that tell me I have to work extra hard to be worthy of love or affection. The kind that instilled fear of not being good enough.
Those fears are still present, maybe even more so, because I’m afraid of getting used to this feeling-to being important to someone. Celebrated, even.
But this is just sex. I have to remember that. Gio’s a player and this is probably how he plays.
He bought a restaurant for you.
I draw in a breath. He bought an entire restaurant-just for me. That’s not playing.
We strip the tablecloth from the table where he just owned me, and I set it with a new one and then it’s time to go to his birthday dinner.
He locks up and takes me by the hand, lacing his fingers with mine as he leads me to his SUV. “Don’t be nervous,” he says, even though I was trying to hide my mood. “My family’s easy. It will be just another loud Italian family gathering. Lots of food and talking over each other.” He winks at me, and I melt a little.
I want to believe him, but this is where my bias against his family comes in again. They’re the Tacones. The notorious crime family that held Milano’s hostage for forty years. The family responsible for six dead bodies on our floor last year.
“Will Junior be there?” I try to make the question casual, but Gio slides his gaze over and eyes me speculatively. He’s too perceptive sometimes.
“Yeah.” He opens my car door and helps me in.
I draw in a shaky breath, wishing I’d made an excuse for dinner.
But no, it’s Gio’s birthday and he wants me there.
And that’s the part that gets me.
He wants me there.
It’s a strange and foreign feeling, and one I like way too much.
We don’t talk much on the way to his mother’s. I fidget with my purse strap and the radio.
“Should I be more dressed up?” I blurt when it suddenly occurs to me that the Tacones are rich, and I’m showing up in jeans.
“Stop,” Gio cuts in immediately. “You look perfect. No one’s gonna judge you, angel. They’ll be delighted I brought a girl.”
That news calms me down. I steal a sidelong glance at him. “You don’t usually?”
He flashes that panty-melting grin. “Never, doll. I was the consummate bachelor.”
I try to ignore the tingle of pleasure at the back of my neck, running down my arms. I’m special to Gio. More evidence that it’s true.
The news makes me bold enough to push for more. “And now?”
Gio’s grin widens. “Now I’m about you, little girl. Or hadn’t you figured that out, yet?”
My face flushes with pleasure and a bit of embarrassment that I just fished for that information.
“I’ve been trying to hold back-not to come on too strong, especially because you seem to have some hangups with me. But standing back and waiting isn’t my style, doll. I think I’ve shown remarkable restraint. But that shit is over. Consider my intentions declared.”
My pussy tingles at his declaration. Gio’s dirty talk is off the charts hot, but this? Real relationship talk from a tough guy mafia man? I’ve never been so turned on in my life.
I swallow. “Noted.”
Gio smirks as he parks in front of a lovely suburban Victorian and gets out. I push my door open and draw a deep breath. I can do this. I’m with Gio and he’s all about me. That pretty much makes any situation navigable, doesn’t it?
He stops right before we go in. “Hey, my ma doesn’t know anything about me getting shot, and I want to keep it that way, okay?”
Shock ripples through me. How did he keep something so big from her? And he seems so open with me, but what is he keeping from me?
We walk in the door, and his mother comes flying out of the kitchen, her arms stretched wide. “Gio!” Her expression turns to delighted surprise when she sees me. “You brought a girl!”
“Gio brought a girl?” I hear a man’s voice ask from the living room, and then family descends from all directions.
“Ma, this is Marissa, Marissa Milano. She owns the cafe Pops used to go to in Cicero.”
“I remember hearing about it.” Gio’s mother kisses both my cheeks. “Welcome, welcome. I’m so glad you came to help Gio celebrate his birthday.”
His brother Paolo gives me the double-cheek kisses, too. “Good to see you, Marissa.”
I have the same visceral reaction to seeing Junior I have every time since the shooting. Ice flushes over me, and the memory of him pointing his pistol at my head floods back. I force a smile and offer my face for his kisses, too, and he introduces me to his beautiful Latina wife, Desiree, and their baby Santo and son Jasper.
“Junior, can we have a word?” Gio says, picking up my hand and squeezing it.
Wait… what? Does we include me? Because I’d rather keep my distance from Junior.
But Junior agrees, shooting a speculative look over his shoulder as he leads us to a study. Gio shuts the door behind us, and I stand there shaking, wanting to run.
“You owe Marissa an apology,” Gio says immediately.
Oh fuck.
I start shaking harder. So hard Gio notices and pulls me against his side.
“Yeah?” Junior is scary as hell. As scary as Don Tacone, the patriarch of the family. He turns those dark eyes on me.
I can’t breathe. I mean not at all. I stand there, unable to inhale or exhale. Or even move, other than tremble.
“Yeah. For pointing a gun at her. You scared her, Junior. She has nightmares.”
I want to kill Gio for exposing me like this. I thought I handled the shooting pretty well in the moment. When the bratva bastards came in and camped out at every table in the cafe, I’d tried to warn Junior it was a trap.
But then it was too late, and their leader shot Gio on the sidewalk out front. And I covered up for them afterward. Lied to the police and told them it was all bratva. No Sicilians involved at all.
Junior absorbs this news and drops his head to the side. “Aw, Marissa. I’m sorry. It all happened so fast. You moved, I aimed. I thought you were one of them, that’s all. I would never hurt you. You gotta believe that.”
Some of my backbone returns. I lift my chin. “You thought about shooting,” I accuse. “Even after you saw it was me.”
Gio turns his gaze on his brother and raises his brows. “That true?”
Junior meets my gaze and holds it. He shakes his head. “I would never do it, Marissa. We don’t harm the innocent.”
To my horror, tears fill my eyes. “He told you to,” I mumble through trembling lips. It feels good to get it out. To talk about the moment I haven’t shared with a single soul.
“Who did?” Gio demands.
“Luca,” Junior mutters. He remembers. We all three will probably remember that evening until the day we die.
She’s a witness, his henchman said, and I’d had no choice but to beg for my life.
“Luca’s job is to warn me of danger. But I knew you weren’t a threat to me. You aren’t, are you, Marissa?”
There’s a slight warning to Junior’s tone, and Gio instantly growls, “Watch it.”
Junior holds up his hands. “No, no. All I’m saying is that it’s absurd to believe I’d ever want to hurt her.” He turns to me. His expression is gentle. It’s one I haven’t seen on him before. “You tried to warn me that day, didn’t you?”
I nod, mutely.
“I’m grateful to you, Marissa. And I’m sorry if you think I would ever pull that trigger on you. I wouldn’t. I swear to La Madonna.”
I’m still shaking, but I can breathe again. I manage a nod of acceptance.
Gio tips my chin to look at me. “Yeah? You believe him?”
Do I? I’m not sure. I want to, yes. I nod.
“Feel better?” Gio presses, like he’s going to take some action on my behalf if I don’t.
I elbow him away. “Jesus, Gio. You didn’t have to go and make a big thing about it. Now I’m embarrassed.”
“No,” he says, waving his hands in that distinctly Italian way. “This matters. I want you coming around here, seeing my family. And I can’t have you scared every time you see my brother.”
Junior shoots Gio a curious glance before he extends his hand. “No, I definitely don’t want you scared of me. Please.” When I place my hand in his, he covers it with his other one and squeezes, holding me captive. “Accept my apologies. For everything that went down that night.”
I blink. I know my lips are still trembling, so I don’t trust myself to talk. It’s funny how far an apology goes.
Much farther than the money. The Tacones took care of us after the shooting. Paolo had the windows replaced the following day and Junior gave me twice as much cash as it cost to repair everything.
But hearing him say he’s sorry in plain words makes a difference. A large chunk of the fear and anger I’ve been holding on to against the Tacones as a result of that day breaks off and floats away.
“Thanks,” I manage to say after a moment, cursing my voice for wobbling.
But Junior releases my hand and draws me in for a hug, like we’re family. And I don’t mind. It’s nice, actually.
When he lets me go, Gio pulls my back against his front and wraps his arms around me from behind. He kisses my hair. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Junior peers down at me. “You sure?”
I nod again. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“Okay. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you or your family, Marissa,” Junior says. It makes me think he doesn’t know about the loan Gio already gave me. So it was off the books, like Gio promised.
“Thanks, Mr. Tacone-Junior.”
We file out of the den and into the chaos of a noisy family gathering, and something in me I didn’t know I was holding relaxes. Some space opens up in my chest for more breath.
The din of chatter soothes me and my nerves ebb. Maybe Gio’s right. They are just like any other family.