Tangled In Strings

Chapter Eighteen

My cheek is warm. More than warm rested between the curve of throat and shoulder. My neck is perched on Giovanni's strong arm, my eyes coaxed shut by the gentle massaging of his fingers against my skull. My arm, which is draped over his tight body, instinctively pulls him closer in contentment.

The room is sweetly hot, humid from the soft patter of rain outside. That and Giovanni's heartbeat, still finding its equilibrium, brings me peace I haven't felt since the last time he was near me. The ground below us is hard, even with the quilt we brought in from the bedroom beneath us.

His calm sigh as my lips touch the damp skin in the middle of his chest is music to my ears, so I continue to praise him with my mouth, slow and gentle.

It's only when I stop, laying my head down on the place, that he speaks.

"I think we're going to have to light some more candles. These are already low."

I huff. "You better not move a muscle."

I can't see his grin, but somehow I hear it. "As you say."

I pull myself up on him, resting my chin against my forearm. He peers down at me, and I'm pleased to catch the aftermath of his wide smile changing into a different one as our eyes meet. As happy as we are in each other's presence, there are things to discuss. With only so many hours together, we must use them wisely.

"Tell me about you," I whisper.

"Not much of it's good."

"I don't care."

He exhales, running his hand over the length of my back. "Well, my mother checked into a rehab facility two days ago. Voluntarily."

"Really?"

He nods. "Valentina and I somehow convinced her."

"That must have been hard."

He focuses on the locket around my neck to avoid my eyes. "It's been a long time coming."

"Still."

I can tell he's biting the inside of his lip as it twists, his brows creasing in thought. I run my hand over the crinkled skin to smooth the distress. His eyes flicker to mine, betraying a sadness that shocks me. My head shakes side to side in confusion, my stomach dropping with dread.

"I don't know how everything got so fucked up," he confesses softly, a tremor in his voice.

I want to tell him it's not that bad, to console him but know I'd be giving him falsities. We're in a shit place right now, and we both know it.

"I don't understand how I have a brother who absolutely hates me. I don't understand how I lived with a man my whole life, worshipped the ground he walked on, and never saw that he was a crook." He pulls his hand back and rakes it through his hair with frustration, leaving it there. His head shakes, his mouth etched tight. "I don't understand how a girl could go through so much horror and still have to fight to be happy. I don't understand how you could still be strong after all of this, after everything that's happened to you."

My gaze settles on his chest. I wonder how to answer him. "What happened with your brother?"

He smiles, but there isn't a trace of pleasure behind it. "You know, not much, really. I fought like a goddamn animal to get a meeting set up with him privately, nearly couldn't pull it off... and it was all for nothing. He saw me, told me how fucking terrible I am, and asked to be taken back. I could have been there to get him out, Scarlett, and he still would have sent me away."

My eyes close in regret. He shifts beneath me but, thankfully, doesn't push me off of him.

"We weren't always like this... we were a good family. We were there for each other, we encouraged each other. I never fought with him, not once until he screwed around with Lola. I was goddamn blindsided by my own brother, and he has the audacity to hate me." He growls to himself, his reddened eyes rolling to the ceiling. "I don't understand it."