No Strings Attached

Chapter Thirty-Four

Dressed to the nines, debonair and dashing, Giovanni Martinelli stuns me and every person crowding us on this sleek dance floor. His hair is gelled back, loosening his show-stopping curls, his stubble gone for this elegant party. I stare dumbfounded into the darkness of his eyes, finding myself lost... lost in them, in him.

"Giovanni," I whisper, sounding only slightly horrified.

"Scarlett."

"What are you doing here?"

"I was invited."

Of course he was. "Oh."

"It seems your date could benefit from a visit to me," he mutters, his tone darkening, his eyes traveling over the crowd, towards the direction I came from. "Must be his father's suit."

Shit, he saw where I'm sitting.

"He's not my date."

"But he's here, next to you, isn't he?" he replies. I look away, as fast as I can.

"I'm... going to go to... the restroom..." My words begin to fail as he reaches out for me, his fingers gripping my hip, pulling me towards him. Dazed, I take in the features I've missed for weeks. My eyes play off of the natural shine to his cheekbones, the high arch to his full brows, the long lashes surrounding those onyx eyes, the razor-edged jaw line. His hand slides into my own, lifting them entwined mid-air.

I look around us, heart wild, noticing a few curious eyes peering in this direction.

We begin to sway slowly and I bite my lip to conceal my smile, glad that he can't see it.

We're dancing.

After weeks apart, his touch ignites my flesh to the highest extreme.

"What are you doing here, really? You flew from California for a boring dinner party?"

Why are you asking this, Scarlett? Why?

"I stopped by to get more information from Summer, evidence. My people are taking too long going through the accounts."

"She got it to you, right?"

"Yes. I stopped by to check in on you, but you weren't there."

"I was helping set up here."

"I figured."

Whatever song the band was playing ends. I'm filled with relief when he doesn't pull back. When the next song begins, we're still dancing at an unnaturally slow pace. My fingers hesitantly extend further apart, feeling the hardness of muscle beneath the tuxedo.

I feel his hand do the same thing against the small of my back.

"I want to thank you, but I know you won't want me to," he finally utters over my shoulder. I keep my eyes on the people around us, most consumed in their own lives.

"There's absolutely nothing to thank me for."

"You made your life harder to help me when the solution to your problem was right in front of your eyes."

"I'm not heartless, Giovanni. I..." When I realize what I'm about to say, I feel my eyes close. "I never want to hurt you. I have never wanted to."

He doesn't say anything, not for a long while.

"I'm going to agree not to prosecute in exchange for his silence."

I pull back from his shoulder, eyes round with disbelief.

"No," I blurt out.

"Yes."