Tangled In Strings

Chapter Twenty-Nine

"Scarlett."

Giovanni's voice is a soothing hum, beside my ear. Reluctantly, my eyelids part, reasonably exhausted. My cheek is cozy warm, pressed up against the smooth cotton of his shirt, my legs draped over both of his knees.

The car has come to a stop.

He nudges my forehead with his lips. "Scarlett, we're here."

Here.

It takes me a few moments in recollection to remember where I am, what "here" actually means. My eyes pop open, and I sit up, rubbing my face.

"We're here?"

He chuckles, as our security detail, Sam, opens his side. The other man on the job, Raymond, is still in the front, leaving us at the curb before he parks the car. I slide out of the backseat and into Giovanni, bracing myself on his forearms. The sound that leaves me is unusually anxious, and I'm sure he knows it, and why.

We walk into the lobby, while Sam retrieves the bags from the car. He catches up to us, taking the key to the room adjacent to ours. This trip, if we can help it, will be spent on our own. They are here as a pre-caution, because whether I like to think about it or not, our days are rarely smooth. Currently, we have a lot of enemies, a lot to be worried about. We're bound to be noticed here, and when that happens, security will be necessary.

We take the elevator to the elevated floor and part ways the moment we reach the doors, taking our bags. Exhausted, we don't intend to leave the room today, and we inform him that. The marriage license is in my bag, and I had to pull multiple strings to get it so quickly.

However, connections can only go so far. We still have fifteen hours before we can legally wed. Fifteen hours to wait. Giovanni opens the door, and we both take in the room. Modernized, and reeking elegance, the space has all necessities and leaves the rest to imagination. With a restless step, I spin on my heel when I hear Giovanni shut the door. He smiles, setting down our hastily packed bags near the entrance. His smile holds just as much hesitance as mine does, which makes this impromptu trip a bit easier to digest.

I don't regret my desperate plea for him to whisk me away and force the world to turn to our favor. But, I am weighed by the colossal importance of what we're about to do, how much finality comes with marriage. And how until yesterday, that finality could make me physically sick. I remember when I was begging him not to leave me, in my office that horrible night, I told him in my desperation I'd do anything, I'd even marry him to keep him. Yet, when we reconnected, that thought still seemed abhorrent. And then he did propose, and last night, so did I... and now, here we are.

I plant myself by the windows, crossing my arms over my body at the sights outside.

I've never known a good marriage up close. Not one. I've never had much faith in matrimony, which is probably why I settled for what Dixon had to offer. Somehow, I must have seen something in him that was familiar, because he turned out so much like the man who raised me. And it makes me think constantly if I unknowingly looked for the only thing I'd been accustomed to.

What is terrifying about marrying Giovanni is that I have so much hope. I have an abundant hope for what this could be, which I've never allowed myself to dream of. A home, a warm, loving home with children I can watch him dote upon. A life to watch him grow old, and he I—and pray that years from now, he'll still look at me as he does in these moments.

To have these dreams, these aspirations feel like a childhood fantasy I should shut out quick. I have no proof of them other than movies or books.

But as Giovanni's arms wind around me, his chest pressing into my back and his chin rests against my hair, staring out of the same window I am, I'm confronted by how much of what I've experienced with him that is unprecedentedly new, how much he's awakened my life. I have no right to doubt him, not after everything we've gone through, and managed to survive too.