Giovanni Torrini looks absolutely nothing like someone who should be capable of overpowering a man twice his size and twice his experience in violence. He’s wearing a cropped white t-shirt that clings to his lean torso, and a pair of silk sleep shorts in pale pink that barely qualify as clothing. His dark hair is mussed from sleep, falling in soft waves around his face, and his blue eyes are bright with satisfaction and something darker that makes every instinct I have scream danger.
He’s beautiful. He’s always been beautiful. And that’s always been a fucking problem. But now, seeing him like this, knowing what he’s capable of, he looks like a Renaissance painting of Lucifer. Perfect and deadly and absolutely without conscience.
“You drugged me,” I state, keeping my voice level despite the panic clawing at my throat.
“I gave you a little something to help you relax,” he corrects, pushing off from the doorframe and padding into the room on bare feet. There’s something almost feline in the way he moves, graceful and silent and predatory. Like a cat that’s caught a particularly interesting mouse. “You looked so tense when you were leaving. All wound up and conflicted. I thought you might appreciate some pharmaceutical assistance.”
The casual way he says it, like drugging someone is just a minor courtesy, makes my hands clench into fists.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What this means?”
“I know exactly what it means,” Ginni says, and his voice takes on an edge that makes my blood run cold. “It means you’re mine now. It means no more running away, no more pretending you don’t want me, no more hiding behind your reputation and your responsibilities.”
He perches on the edge of the bed, and I can feel the dip in the mattress, the warmth radiating from his skin.
“You’re insane if you think you can get away with this,” I tell him, putting every ounce of threat I can muster into my voice. “When I get out of here, when people realize I’m missing...”
“No one’s going to realize you’re missing,” Ginni interrupts, his voice cheerful like he’s discussing the weather. “Marco thinks you’re taking some time off after that mess with the Petrov contracts. Very reasonable, very believable. And my family won’t be back from Italy for two weeks.”
Two weeks. The words hit me like a physical blow. Two weeks alone with this beautiful, psychotic boy who’s clearly lost whatever thin grip on reality he might have had.
“Dario will notice...”
“Dario’s busy with his own problems. Besides, everyone knows you’ve been working too hard lately. A little vacationmakes perfect sense.” Ginni’s smile widens, and there’s something predatory in it that makes my skin crawl. “I’ve thought of everything, Carlo. Every contingency, every possible complication. You’re not getting out of here until I’m ready to let you go.”
The certainty in his voice makes something cold settle in my stomach.
“People don’t just disappear without consequences,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “There are rules. Protocols. Even for family.”
“Especially for family,” Ginni agrees, his hand coming to rest on my thigh over the sheet. The touch is light, almost reverent, but it burns like a brand. “But you’re not going to disappear, are you? You’re going to stay right here with me, and we’re going to figure this out like civilized people.”
“This isn’t civilized. This is kidnapping.”
“I prefer assertive courtship,” he corrects, and there’s something in his voice now, something harder than his usual sweet act. “Traditional methods weren’t working. You’ve been avoiding me, and I was getting tired of waiting.”
His hand starts moving, a slow stroke up my thigh that makes every nerve in my body light up. I want to pull away, want to tell him to get his fucking hands off me, but the words stick in my throat because some sick part of me doesn’t want him to stop.
“You’ve been watching me,” I say instead. “Studying me. Planning this.”
“Of course I have,” Ginni says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen, Carlo. Did you think I wasn’t paying attention?”
The words hit me like a freight train. In love. With me. For years. While I’ve been trying so hard to pretend he doesn’t affect me, he’s been carrying this around, feeling this way about me.
In love. Ginni is claiming it’s not a crush. Not infatuation. Not obsession. He’s declaring he’s in love. With me. And has been so for five fucking years.
“You were sixteen,” I say, latching onto that detail because it’s the only safe ground I can find. “You were a kid. Kids get crushes. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“I’m twenty-one now,” Ginni points out, his voice patient like he’s explaining something obvious to someone particularly slow. “I’ve been away at university for three years. I’ve had plenty of opportunities to develop feelings for other people, to experiment, to figure out what I want.” His smile turns predatory. “And what I want is you. All of you. Forever.”
The intensity in his voice makes something cold settle in my stomach. He’s right, this isn’t just attraction or infatuation. This is something deeper, something more dangerous.
And what the fuck does he mean, he experimented at university? Did he really let some douchebag get his hands on him? More than one douchebag? How fucking dare those creeps touch him!
I shake my head to clear it. I can feel my blood pressure rising, and that’s the last thing I need right now. I need to focus. I need to try to reason with Ginni.
“I’m not gay, Ginni. You know that.”
He rolls his eyes. “Denial.”
