No Strings Attached

Chapter Twenty

I press my face to the tinted glass as the steel gate inches open and the driver pulls us into a darkened driveway.

"I keep it dark for privacy," he says. "The paps can't get photos if they can't see me."

I step out of the vehicle, observing the darkness, trying to get a good look around. I see palm trees, a fountain, a elegant round-about. Giovanni tugs my hand while I peer towards the gate, making sure no one is there.

"Come."

We climb the steps. I'm already shifting foot-to-foot, dreaming of when I can take these heels off. He pulls the keys from the door and steps in, opening it wide. I hear the sound of cascading water the second I'm in, only to find a Zen waterfall in the main hallway leading into the glass house. I shake my head in amazement, my stilettos clacking against the wood floor.

"This is gorgeous."

I step into the living room and there it is. The city in bright lights, a hillside view of it. His home has a modern yet surprisingly cozy vibe to it. I'm not really sure whether I want to keep my shoes on or lounge out on the couch with the throw draped over it.

He turns on the lights one by one, draping us in warm yellow comfort. I watch him move, uncomfortably aware that I'm staying here for the night. I have no clue what to do, how to act.

Giovanni removes his pale blue suit jacket, throwing it down over the corner of the couch. He reaches out for the bag I packed earlier in my hand.

"Um, am I sleeping with you tonight... or...?" I blurt out nervously. The minute the words are out of my mouth, I bite my tongue painfully hard.

Giovanni turns, brows high, smile full of amusement. "Um, you're welcome to. If you'd prefer not to, I have a guest room."

Don't say another goddamn word, Bardot. Not one. "Oh, okay."

He shrugs. "I'll take you to the guest room so you can get comfortable. Meanwhile, I'll cook us up something."

He cooks? "Alright."

He opens a door, and I follow him in. He sets the bag onto the bed, pointing to another door. "There's a bathroom there. Make yourself at home and come out."

I nod, pulling at my hair as he leaves. As soon as the door is closed, I press my hands to my eyes. Jesus, this is awkward.

I shouldn't have done this. It's too soon.

It's not even remotely a part of our agreement.

This feels like more. And not the I'm-blind-with-pleasure kind of more; it's the one-step-to-assigned-bedsides more. With a frustrated groan, my shoes are the first things to go. I pull out a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, clearing my throat.

These are all I brought to sleep in. Was I deranged when I was packing?

I walk into the bathroom, pulling the skimpy dress over my head. I'm reminded then, to my utter horror, that Giovanni still has my underwear. I grab a fresh pair, changing quickly, feeling more grounded in my own clothes.

I take one look at my face in the mirror and blanch at how tired I truly look, how dark my eyes really are. After splashing my face, I breathe out deeply, attempting a meditative moment before entering airspace with Giovanni again.

I can never anticipate a single moment we spend together. He always finds a way to surprise me.

I exit the room, fidgeting stupidly as I head towards the clanging and sizzling. There's a step up into the kitchen that looks like something straight out of a magazine. My eyes greedily appraise the delicious sight of Giovanni standing over the stove, a damp dish towel on his shoulder. His curls, due to my pulling, are wonderfully wild. His back, a curved, wide canvas, is on display through the soft material of his dress shirt.