Tangled In Strings

Chapter Thirty-One

"We really should get out of bed sometime," Giovanni hints, without a single shred of weight to accompany those words. His arms are locked around my body, his hands firmly in my hair. Still in his lap, still out of breath, I wrap my legs tighter around him, beaming from ear to ear against his mouth.

"I don't think so."

"It's noon."

My hands trace the outline of his face, as I bestow kisses to his mouth. He speaks between the breaks.

"And a weekday."

"Mhm."

"We both have a rather important event coming up." He chuckles when I shake my head. "It's in a week, Scarlett."

"Your line is complete. Your staff is on it. My staff is on it." I smile when he gazes up at me, his eyes alight with laughter. His hair is a messy mop, his skin still damp from our morning spent in bed. My nerves are still firing. I feel them in the tips of my fingers as my hands drift over his shoulders and around his neck. "For four months, you slaved over these designs. You worked, I promoted. This is going to be a hit. There's nothing to be worried about."

"It's my first work on display since the laundering scandal."

"The reactions to the previews should have rid you of doubt." My mouth twists. "In fact, the reassurance of your wife should have done it."

That word still sounds foreign, and delightful to say. Never would I have thought I'd refer to that word with contentment in my life. But, the past four months have changed that.

Giovanni's changed that. By being unabashedly himself, unable to reveal any other part of himself to me because I've already discovered what there is to know before the ring was on my finger. There was no demon lurking within, ready to pounce and show itself the second we were legally bound together.

Nothing's changed, and it's ridding me of my bitterness, day by day.

"Doubtful. You can't tell me if you hate it."

"As if I could hate anything you make."

"Exactly. You're proving my point here."

"Charmeuse silk gowns, Italian wool suits—handmade. Giovanni, your line is elegant, and nostalgic, and has pieces for both men and women, which is rarely heard of. The release is right before Christmas, which is dynamite for sales. You have nothing to worry about." I make him look at me. "And if a single person reports something negative, I'm coming for them. And you can be sure they will change their tune."

"You sound pretty confident about all of this," he observes, appearing glad for it.

"No one should mess with a pregnant woman. That was a myth that turned out to be fact."

His fingers massage into my back on their way down to my hips. His eyes lower between us to the belly that's suddenly popped in the last two weeks. It's a gigantic force between our bodies. He hums, and his dark irises flicker back to me. "And the one about sex? The one where I'm supposed to not find this attractive?"

My teeth scrape against my lip, my heart fluttering like wings as I remember my concerns spouted to him months ago. "You tell me."

He shakes his head, leaning in until his mouth settles over mine.

"Myth. Definite myth."

...

"I am pleased to announce that the furniture has finally been assembled by the decorator," Rebecca announces in her steady glide into the office, still looking down at her tablet. "She sent the final photos, which await your approval before she sends the bill."