Tangled In Strings

Chapter Twelve

Giovanni has mastered the art of remaining calm in Californian traffic. The essence of cool, calm, and collected, he leans casually in the driver's seat, one hand on the wheel as we sit in traffic. Normally, I'd be fidgeting in my seat at the lack of movement, but right now, our destination is his mother's home, and I could do with a few more minutes to gear myself on the road.

My gaze scans over the passing license plates, but I'm barely seeing them.

"I did see Norman yesterday," I hear myself whisper to him.

He glances my way, his features masked with an impassiveness that I know is a front. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't want every night we have together to be dramatic. I wanted a night off."

"We're going to have plenty of good nights, Scar. When something important happens, you should tell me."

"I know. I'm sorry... I should have."

With a sigh, he places his other hand on the steering wheel. "So, what happened?"

"He tried to apologize again."

"Tried?"

"I didn't let him."

"You don't want to hear it?"

I chuckle. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because it won't change anything. He blackmailed you. He lied to me."

He nods, changing lanes to attempt to find a way out of this mess. His hand suddenly rests against my thigh, and I reach for it, willing to take whatever comfort he can offer me before we arrive at his mother's.

"Scarlett, he is your father. I don't want you to ignore him because he held my father's fuck up over my head. He probably was trying to protect you from me."

I look at him, shocked. "Giovanni."

He shakes his head, smartly keeping his gaze on the road. "I'm not dismissing what he did, and I'm still fucking pissed at him for keeping us apart. But he is sick. He said he doesn't have much time left, which means you don't have much time to learn about your mother. Once he's gone... he's gone."

I hear my own thick swallow, and wanting desperately to find a way off this subject, I search for a change. My eyes flicker down to the wine bottle I insisted on buying for this occasion. It cost me a small fortune, but if it makes a good impression, it will be worth it.

"Do you think the wine is enough?"

He squeezes my fingers. "The wine is plenty."

I lift his hand to my lips, pressing down on his warm skin. I catch a small smile teasing his lips.

"You have nothing to worry about."

...

His mother's home is a good deal larger than his own, a monument of wealth and prestige from the second you make it through the gates. There is a team of landscapers working on the already immaculate yard, holding colorful carnations to plant. The mid-day sun is bright, raining down on the property. It's nearly 100 degrees, unbearable to endure more than a few minutes outside.

Giovanni holds the door open for me as I climb out, grabbing the chilled wine bottle. I shake in my stilettos, patting down my white halter dress with the other hand. I was very proud of myself for picking the outfit when I left the house, but now, I'm wishing I'd just done the impossible and worn flats to meet her.

At the feel of Giovanni's hand pressed against the bare skin of my back, I relax slightly. "You look beautiful."

"Yeah?"