"Thank us by not dying," Athena replied. "And by putting that man of yours through his paces tonight. I swear, Rodrigo is wound so tight he is going to explode if Falcone doesn't hurry up and attack us soon. Help him blow off some steam, or Leo is going to shoot him in the ass with a tranq."
Giana's head fell back as she laughed. "I'll do my best."
Walking back to the villa, Giana's mind was racing ahead. Tonight. Tomorrow. How many nights did they have before the silence ended and real life came crashing back in? She had spent so long being careful, making herself small, so she would be safe. Maybe it was time to be brave instead.
Giana had almost lost Rodrigo yesterday and could lose him in the fight to come. She didn't want to waste the time they had left by being a chicken shit.
Behind her, Athena's voice carried across the range. "Twenty euros says she has him begging by midnight."
"You're on," Frederica replied. "But I think it will be before dinner."
Giana grinned and kept walking, already planning her next moves.
37
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows of Rodrigo's office, painting warm rectangles across the worn Persian rug and the massive desk.
Outside, the lockdown remained in place, with guards patrolling the perimeter in teams since the ambush near Siena.
Rodrigo leaned back in his desk chair, the creak of leather loud in the stillness. His grazed arm throbbed dully beneath the fresh bandage, a constant reminder of the close call.
On his laptop screen, encrypted messages flickered with intel from Leo on the mercenary hire trail, fragmented chatter intercepted from Sicilian channels, and a blurred satellite image of the farmhouse outside Treviso where Luca had met his contact.
The identity of 'The Old Man' remained frustratingly elusive, a shadow lurking just beyond his digital reach.
A low mutter of frustration rumbled in Rodrigo's chest. He hated loose ends. Hated threats that slithered in the dark like fucking cowards.
He thought of Giana as he had all day, and his frown shifted into a grin. His queen. The reality of it, after years of solitarycontrol and enforced distance, still felt surreal, like a precious, dangerous gift.
The door to his office opened without a knock, and Giana stepped inside like his longing had made her magically appear. She closed the door softly behind her, and the distinct click of the lock engaging echoed in the quiet room.
She was still dressed for shooting practice in dark, fitted tights that hugged her legs. A simple black tank top revealed the toned lines of her arms and shoulders, the faint sheen of sweat still visible at her temples and collarbones. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face.
Rodrigo leaned back further in his chair, a slow, appreciative smile spreading across his face as he took her in.
"Well, well," he rumbled, his voice a low purr that vibrated in the quiet room. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure,amore mio? You get into an argument with Fred at the range?"
Giana didn't return his smile immediately. Her dark eyes, usually so expressive, were completely focused as she crossed the room toward his desk. She moved with a new kind of assurance, and the nervous tension that had often crackled around her was gone, replaced by a calm purpose that was infinitely more captivating.
She stopped just in front of his massive desk, resting her hips on the polished wood. Her gaze locked with his, unwavering.
"There were no arguments. Fred's terrifyingly good and patient. Well, mostly." A ghost of a smirk touched her lips, then vanished. "I came to ask you something."
Rodrigo arched a dark eyebrow. "What's on your mind?"
Giana pushed off the desk and came to stand directly beside his chair. He could feel the residual heat radiating from her skin, smell the gunpowder and sunshine tangled with her familiar jasmine scent. Her eyes held his, dark and serious.
"I want you to teach me something," she stated, her voice dropping slightly, gaining a husky edge that sent a jolt straight to his dick.
Rodrigo's gaze sharpened, his smile turning predatory. "Oh? Did Fred and Athena neglect some crucial aspect of close-quarters combat? Knife work? Pressure points?" He purposely misread her, enjoying the flush that crept up her neck.
Giana placed one hand lightly on the armrest of his chair, her fingers brushing against the fine wool of his suit sleeve. Her other hand rested on his thigh, just above his knee, the touch feather-light but searing through the fabric.
"Not combat," she murmured, her gaze dropping pointedly, lingering for a heartbeat on the growing bulge tenting the front of his tailored trousers before lifting back to meet his eyes. A spark of pure, feminine challenge ignited in their depths. "I want you to teach me how to please you. Specifically… how to give a blowjob."
"What?" Rodrigo coughed in surprise. A wave of heat, primal and possessive, surged through him, tightening his gut and making his cock throb insistently against the confinement of his zipper.Dio. "Giana…" It was half warning, half plea.
"Teach me," she repeated, her voice dropping to a whisper that vibrated with intent. Her hand on his thigh slid higher, applying gentle pressure. "Show me how you like it. I want to know."
