I narrow my eyes. "You cornered like a maniac."
"Youscreamedlike a maniac."
"Whatever. What about my poker skills?" I ask, unable to keep the smugness out of my voice. I’m still riding the high of the bluff, of the way he looked at me across the table like I just flipped the whole game on its head.
Gio lets out a low whistle, head tilting with that crooked half-smile of his.
"I’m impressed. And you will becomea teacher?What a lucky class. A little poker shark teaching them the alphabet. Adorable."
I look down, pretending to focus on the floor, my fingers, anything. I rub my thumb over a crease in my pants.
"Yeah," I mumble. "It’s kind of stupid, I guess." I hate how small my voice sounds. How fast he can take that spark and crush it.
He blinks once. Then he does that slow, sideways smile that makes my stomach betray me. "Aw. Come here."
And before I can move, he pulls me into a hug. Arms around my neck.
I freeze. My heart starts racing.
"I’m messing with you. You would be a badass teacher."
What the fuck.
He rests his chinon my freaking head.
"Your heart’s betraying you. Again. Just like last time." That snaps me out of it.
"Fuck off," I mutter, shoving him back too fast, trying not to combust on the sidewalk.
He just laughs. "Goodnight, Ravioli."
"Goodnight… Don’t forget about tomorrow. We have to work on the new presentation."
"Man, shut the fuck up and let me rot in peace. It’s 6AM."
I flip him off. Hard.
He laughs harder.
And I’m left staring at his back, realizing I haven’t exhaled since he touched me.
25) His Place
Gio
The heat today is stupid.
I swing onto the bike and everything else shuts up. Best part of my day. I take the long road out of the industrial zone, passing the same grey buildings my dad used to walk through twenty years ago…
I’m not gonna lie, being my father’s kid? Yeah, I’m proud of that. The man was a damn legend. I don’t talk about his business much, because people usually hear "family company" and think paperwork and offices, and mostly family drama.
Which I can’t even have, because my dad is not alive.
He built something smart. On paper? Fontana Risk Solutions. Sounds legit, probably boring as hell. Like we sell insurance for car crashes and floods. But what wereallydid, what I do now, is protection.
Literally.
Not exactly the mafia type.
