No Strings Attached

Chapter Forty-Three

"What the hell do you think it was?"

I glide right past Giovanni, finding Rebecca standing slowly from her desk, warily eying the six-foot man of muscle charging after me into my office. I glance around, noticing we've gained the attention of the entire office. I reach Rebecca, holding out my computer and notepads. She takes them wordlessly, her bright eyes round.

Turning quick on my heels, I pin him with a sharp scowl of disdain. "We're not doing this here."

I pass by him before he can answer, avoiding the watchful curious gazes of our audience as I find the closest exit, the elevator. Wanting to avoid the few people already waiting, I decide on the stairs, entering the gloomy teal green staircase that leads only down.

I grab onto the rail, peering up as Giovanni shuts the door behind him, one step behind me. We don't speak as we storm down the flights of loud steps. My knees are buckling, the nape of my neck dampening nervously. I'm short of breath.

Finally, I see the doorway with the lock that can only be opened with a swipe. It's the new floor for the design department. It's still in renovation and the only place where Norman cannot find us on a monitor.

I step up to it, pulling the clip on the waistband of my pencil skirt until the card is up against the black device and I hear the loud beep for entry. My hairs stand on edge by how close Giovanni is standing behind me.

I open the door and hold it open for him, daring in my gaze as he steps inside the wide room that smells of sawdust and lead. I shut the door, hearing another click as it locks. I'm still as Giovanni walks further into the room, looking around at the tarps and covered work tables. The windows still have brown coverings over them, making the room dull from lack of sunlight.

"So, you've decided you're ready for me to start dating, huh?" he turns, hands on his hips, holding back the cream-colored suit jacket. "I'm a goddamn pawn in your game now?"

"You don't want to start this fight with me, Giovanni," I warn him.

"Oh, don't I? Because that's actually what I really want to do right now." He points at me. "When we met you told me my wants were in your best interests, not the money."

"And for months, I definitely abided by that, don't you think?" I snap condescendingly and he begins to laugh darkly. "I spread my legs. I made you money. I defended. I confided." I step up to him. "Where the hell did that get me?"

"You are pissed, Scarlett. Which is why I'm not taking a single insult you send my way with any real weight. You're pissed at me and projecting. I've said I love you enough times for it to be completely clear."

"You've said it, yes. But acted on it? Not so damn much. Sure, you were there for me in some moments of weakness but in the end, when I was being pulled apart and attacked by everyone around me, you ran as fast as you fucking could!"

He glares at me, his mouth slimming and then relaxing as if he's about to really scream.

"We said this wouldn't get in the way of our professional relationship. The contract–"

"The contract can go to straight to hell now, don't you think? We've broken every rule in it by now."

"To be able to work together..."

"Maybe I don't want to work for you anymore!"

He turns around, exhaling deeply, bringing his hands up to his hair. My heart brimming with resentment towards the men in my life, my expression hardens as I leave my place, following him slowly.

"Maybe I don't want to see you. Maybe the sight of you makes my stomach drop to the floor. Maybe I want to hurt you, hurt you like you hurt me!" He spins, wide-eyed while I seethe up at him. "No, I want you to see me move on... I want you to see me move on from you and live happily with someone else, someone who will keep their promises."

I smile as my hateful words visibly leave their afflictions on him, wanting to taunt him, wound him. "Imagine me with someone else, like I've had to do so many times all these months. I want you to imagine me looking at someone the way I look at you, touching someone the way I touch–"

"Stop," he breathes in a rushing exhale. "Scar, please."

The all-consuming rage that fueled those ugly words dwindles, until there's nothing but tears. Tears for all this time I've had to live loathing the person I want most in this world.

That was too far.

My mind is pressing that fact over and over, unable to uphold the vicious threats I spoke into existence just moments ago. Because deep down, I never want him to hurt.

Despite how badly he's fucked all of this up, I still want him. I still want us. But that all seems impossible now.

My voice that was so full of intensity is no more than a whisper now. "You did this, Giovanni. You. Don't turn this on me."

There's endless silence throughout this construction site. Only the occasional ding from an elevator shaft below or a rustle from the hanging tarps against the vents. Our eyes are doing all the talking.

Just being in his presence makes it impossible to breathe and all function futile.

So, when he shifts his weight, moving hesitantly for such a confident man, I remain frozen, wishing I could fling the ire I had primed for him— months' worth of pain.

"Don't," I beg when he towers over me, clasping my cheek softly. One side and then the other, his movements so gentle, like he knows my emotions are a ticking time bomb, a disastrous implosion waiting to happen.

My back molds to the unfinished wallpaper.

I grab his wrists, but I can't bring myself to push them off. I close my eyes, shaking my head. "You don't get to do this."

"What?"

"Look at me like that."

He holds such secrets in his gaze, but he makes it plain that they're there. "How am I looking at you?"

"Like you love me."

"Because I do." He pushes my hair back from my face, tenderly. "We're... we're surrounded by deception, Scarlett."

He rests his forehead against my cheek, exhaling.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't," is all he replies.

He pulls back, his hands leaving my face. I reach out, confused, worried but he's already near the door.

"Giovanni, what do you mean?"