Tangled In Strings

Chapter Twenty-Five

It's as if I've been kicked right in the stomach.

"What the fuck is he doing here? Scarlett?" Dixon breathes, looking for the first time in a long time like he's unsure of his next move. "What the fuck is he doing here?"

Everything around me comes to a halt, the noise of the city, the sound of construction a few blocks down, the taxi horns blaring in the street. The sight of Giovanni removing his hands from his grey slacks just before he begins down the steps seems to slim and widen like an unfocused camera lens. My entire body is throbbing to the frantic beat of my heart. I wonder if Dixon can feel it beneath his palm. Giovanni is dressed in pieces of an expensive suit—his tailored pants, a bleach white shirt tucked into them, sleeves rolled up to his forearms and no tie. His feet are covered in chestnut leather. My eyes catch the gleam against the watch on his wrist as he takes no time in snatching my arm from Dixon's weakened grasp.

Within seconds, Giovanni has fit himself between our bodies.

"Scarlett, go upstairs," he says, his back to me.

What is he doing? What the fuck is he doing?

The moment I inch toward the stairs, I catch Dixon's gaze, which is trembling, and still. He's literally trembling with rage. "You've been lying this whole time—"

"Don't you even FUCKING LOOK AT HER!" Giovanni barks, louder than any of us expect him to. Normally, I'd be pleased to see Dixon blanch at Giovanni's hostility, but right now, with the gun Dixon's carrying on his holster, I couldn't be more afraid.

"You're so goddamn stupid, man," Dixon hisses, his chest swelling with a large intake of air. "You're so fucking screwed. Is she really worth it? To lose it all?"

"Scarlett, go upstairs," Giovanni repeats, but I can't oblige him. My body shifts toward the stairs, but my feet are cemented into ground.

"You'll lose everything. Your money, your hot shot status, your company. You'll lose it all, Martinelli. Do you really believe she's worth that?"

"Says the man standing here, doing everything in his power to keep me away from her."

Tell him to let it go. Tell Giovanni to come to you, Scarlett. Tell him! If he hits him, he's going to jail. He'll go to fucking jail.

"You've known her for a year. I've known her for nearly half a decade."

Giovanni looks up and points to the doorway. The same woman that was watching us before is standing just behind them, but now, the manager is directly beside her, watching us intently. "You see that woman? She has the number to call if you refuse to leave."

"Police? Much good that's going to do you—"

"No." Giovanni lowers his hand, and Dixon's words fade into nothing. "Winston Shea. Federal Bureau of Investigation. I do believe you know him."

FBI.

At those haunting words, Giovanni's eyes dart to mine. Tears of realization spill down my cheeks in horror.

There's only one reason he'd be in New York. Only one reason he'd risk Dixon seeing us both together. Only one reason he'd be swallowing Dixon whole with his gaze right now.

"You—" Dixon begins, unable to finish. Giovanni's knocked the breath from him, without even lifting a finger. He's knocked it from me too. Giovanni nods, slowly, holding his gaze with complete finality, with complete assurance.

"You've lost," Giovanni says.

My knees are weak, so I slam my hand into the railing, steadying myself. I'm full of disbelief, confusion—relief. But, most of all, anger. I can't believe he's done this. Neither can Dixon, it seems.

It's impulsive, and harmful, to not only himself, but his family. Dixon's words uttered just minutes ago replay in my brain in a chaotic loop, "Do you really believe she's worth that?" and I feel sick. I feel like I'm going to be sick.

Everything will be alright, I promise.
I love you.

My eyes squeeze shut at the thought of the note, burning from the tears, and then tear open to look at them.

Dixon has nothing to say, not a word. He breaks from Giovanni's gaze, finding mine. It's as if Giovanni has torn out the ground under his feet, as if he suddenly cannot remember his name. He's stripped him in one fair swoop of any and all leverage he had been terrorizing us with, and has thrown it back in his face.

"Listen to me," Giovanni starts, eerily calm, resting his hands on Dixon's shoulders with an intimidating squeeze, "Listen real close. If I ever see you here again, if I ever find out you've come even a hundred feet from her, I will, I promise, finish what I started on that street a year ago. I will beat you until they identify your body through your fucking molars."

I'm not breathing. I'm not even breathing.

Dixon shoves away from Giovanni's grip, and I'm sure I see a flash of what I saw in his eyes that night, when he was so drunk he couldn't see. I see fear. It's only there for a moment before he replaces it with a mask of resentment. He knows Giovanni will do it. I know Giovanni will do it. His voice is flat, completely steady. He's already taller than Dixon, not by a lot, but right now, he looks like a monster, ready to consume him whole.

I hear Giovanni's teeth grind as he fills the space between them again. "Try this again, and you will know fucking pain. You'll miss the days you were invisible."

Giovanni doesn't wait for an answer. He is in front of me within seconds. He places his hand on the space between my shoulders, and forces my legs to work. We climb the steps together. At the top, Giovanni stops, turning his attention back to the man standing on the sidewalk.

Speechless, my eyes take in the situation. They move from Giovanni's steely gaze to Dixon's pale, insidious scowl. He couldn't breathe when Giovanni was near, now that he's a safe distance away, he shows his hatred.

Dixon begins to nod, slowly, arrogantly but doesn't push the man beside me farther. He falls back, heading to the driver's side of his cruiser. Giovanni's body shields my view of him as he ushers me toward the double doors, where the two employees are standing, shell-shocked.

They open the door for us and the man speaks up first.

"Sir, do we need to call—?"

"No, it's handled," Giovanni answers in controlled breaths. "If he comes back, or you see that cruiser outside at any time, day or night, I want you to let me know."

I want you to let me know.

He's staying.

Giovanni's staying.