"Would you like a goodnight kiss, Giana?" he asked, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.
"Try it," she said with a bravado she hoped was convincing. "And I'll show you exactly what I learned today about exploiting openings."
Rodrigo didn't move, but a low, soft chuckle rumbled in his chest, a warm, unexpected sound in the tense quiet. "Noted."
He didn't step back, but the palpable tension eased slightly. His thumb brushed her cheekbone once more, a feather-light touch that sent another jolt through her system, before he finally withdrew his hand.
"I need to go to bed, if you're finished in the bathroom," Giana said quickly, getting to her feet. "Night."
"Sweet dreams, my darling fiancé," he called after her in a teasing voice.
"Fuck you, Rodrigo," she swore, making him laugh louder as she shut the door behind her.
The image of him, half-naked and gleaming in the firelight, was seared into her retinas. The itch in her fingers for a pencil, for charcoal, foranythingto capture Rodrigo's raw beauty, was almost painful.
She changed quickly into her soft sleep shorts and tank top, the silk cool against her heated skin.
Sliding between the clean, high-thread-count sheets, she buried her face in the pillow. It smelled overwhelmingly ofhim. It should have been suffocating. Instead, it was… familiar. Comforting, in a deeply unsettling way.
This can't be happening.
Lying in Rodrigo Colleoni's bed, surrounded by his scent, his low chuckle echoing in her ears, Giana realized she was smiling a wide, ridiculous grin.
He hadn't kissed her, but he had laughed when she had threatened to stab him. That felt like a small victory, and life had taught her to take any win that she could get.
18
The following day, Giana's faint scent still lingered in Rodrigo's rooms long after she had left them.
He stood by the cold fireplace, a half-drunk espresso cooling on the mantel beside him. He traced the rim of the delicate cup, his mind replaying the previous night on an endless, torturous loop.
He would never forget the look on her face when he had walked out of the bathroom for as long as he lived. The shock in her wide eyes and the flush that had painted her cheeks. It had been raw, unfiltered appreciation.
Of him. The monster.
Rodrigo had stood there like a complete idiot, unsure of what to do. He let her see the ink on his skin of the fortress walls coiling around his biceps, the raven on his chest, symbols of his own cage that continued to haunt him.
For the first time, he wanted Giana to see him vulnerable. To see that he wasn't just the monster forged in Gabriella's cold ambition, but a man who burned for her.
Her shaky but defiant comment of 'Just assessing you for potential weaknesses' had been a spark in the dark.
God, he wanted to kiss her and show her exactly what kind of feelings she inspired in him. The urge had been a physical ache, a tightening in his gut and dick. He had barely managed to bank it and let her walk away from him.
Having Giana in his space, in hisbed… It was like a homecoming he hadn't known he craved. The quiet rustle of her settling under the covers and the soft sigh as sleep claimed her were mundane and intimate, but they had filled the silence of his rooms with a sense ofrightness.
Rodrigo had lain awake on the couch long after Giana drifted off to sleep, staring into the dying embers of the fire, listening to her breathe, wrestling with the terrifying, exhilarating truth that he finally was safe enough to admit that he was absolutely and hopelessly in love with Giana Sorrentino and had been for a very long time.
Their morning had been normal. Surprisingly, beautifullynormal. They had woken, a slightly awkward silence hanging between them that had quickly dissolved into practicalities.
They had gone down to the gym together before breakfast. No words were needed as they had fallen into a rhythm of stretches and light drills, a silent acknowledgment of the previous day's intensity.
He had focused on footwork and evasion, teaching her how to slip a grab, how to use her smaller size and speed to her advantage, keeping the contact professional, the atmosphere charged but controlled.
Giana had been focused, determined, her movements gaining fluidity. Watching her move, the fierce concentration on her face, the way strands of dark hair escaped her ponytail to cling to her damp temples, had been its own kind of torture.
It was a glimpse of a life he desperately wanted: partnership, trust, the shared rhythm of purpose. The triumphant grin aftershe had successfully dodged a lunge tightened his body with lust and longing.
A knock at the heavy suite door sounded, and Dario poked his head in, his usual sardonic expression firmly in place. "They're ten minutes out. You planning to greet our esteemed guests in your gym clothes,fratello? Or should I tell Silas you're too busy admiring your own reflection?"
