He beams from my praise, happily chewing a bite of his bread. “I guess I could show you when I’m done with the first chapter.”
“I’d be honored, Michael.”
He sits up a little straighter in his seat, looking extremely pleased with himself. My eyes dart to Giovanni, whose face gives absolutely nothing away.
Two additional helpings of pasta and a few cannoli later, Lucia yawns and starts clearing the table. “Well, I hate to kick you out, sort of, but this guy needs to go to bed if he wants to be awake for school tomorrow. And, frankly, I want to change into pajamas and take my bra off. So, have a good night!”
“Can you not talk about your bra?” Giovanni stands and shudders, acting like a surrogate big brother.
Ignoring him, she says, “Tessa, we loved having you. Don’t be a stranger. You can come over without this guy, too. In fact, we would probably prefer that—right, Michael?”
Sweet Michael giggles, while his grown-ass uncle wears a frown.
I reach down to pull on my booties. “You’re too kind. Thank you so much for having me. This was lovely.”
She leans in for a quick hug. “It’s dark outside. Gi will walk you to the subway.”
I vigorously shake my head. “That’s really not necessary.”
A rumble escapes Giovanni as he opens the door.
“He insists. He’ll take care of you.”
“Let’s go,” Giovanni mutters. He marches straight out of the apartment to the elevator, pressing the down button.
Fuck.
A light sweat breaks out at my hairline, and my hands get clammy even thinking about being enclosed in the small space. I consider my options. I could take the stairs, but I’m still a little sore from the paparazzi fall, and I don’t want him to ask questions when I inevitably wince.
Deep breath in.
It might not be so bad… It’s not like we’re on the thirtieth floor. It won’t be long.
“Please, take your time.” His teasing voice snaps me out of my thoughts. He’s already inside the vertical transportation device from hell, checking his watch and holding his hand on the door to prevent it from closing. I drag my feet into the dimly-lit elevator, and he presses the ground level button. Trudging straight to the back wall, I prop my back against it for support. Tilting my head up towards the ceiling, I close my eyes and take some deep breaths. I just need to power through it.
I was going to make my final decision on Giovanni’s pretend girlfriend offer on my way down the stairs, but now I can’t think of anything else other than surviving this ride.
The elevator dings, and we head down. Unfortunately for me, the elevator is moving slower than a side character in ahorror movie. The monstrosity creeps and creaks along at a pace so diabolically insensitive that it forces a tear down my cheek.Everything’s okay. It’ll be over soon.I thank God that the elevator is giving mood lighting and pray Giovanni isn’t watching me too closely.
I open my eyes just a sliver, and that theory flies out of the window right along with my bearings. His gaze bores into mine as he runs a hand through his curls.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Hey, I don’t want to be stuck in here with you, either.” I try to respond in a condescending tone, but it comes out weak instead. Almost all of my energy is spent on not having a panic attack in front of him.
“Are you scared?”
“If you could just leave me alone right now, that’d be great. I’m trying to pretend I’m—agh!” The elevator jolts to a stop, the lights turn off, and I slowly slide against the back wall to the floor. Cold sweat prickles at my neck, my hands won’t stop shaking.This can’t be happening.Putting my hands over my ears, I curl up in the fetal position, taking shallow breaths. A few more tears leak out against my will. If I wasn’t so focused on my impending death, I’d probably be embarrassed.
It’s hard to focus on anything other than the alarm bells sounding off in my nervous system. I catch only bits and pieces of action and speech in between shuddering breaths. I think Giovanni pushes the help button. And as I dig my nails into my palms, I catch him rattling off the building address through the speaker. Even though my mind knows it won’t be long before someone comes for us, my body is screaming otherwise. Sweat drips down my temple, and my chest feels so tight. I can’t believe this is happeningagain.
A smell wraps around me—leather, bergamot, cedarwood—and a body sits next to mine. Two strong hands come to my waist and hoist me up, setting me on a lap.
“Is this okay?” Giovanni asks, his voice low and gruff. He wraps his arms around me, pulling my back to his front.
Too pathetic to argue, all I say is “yeah” in response.
“Micheletto had a panic attack once, and he likes pressure. A tight hold, I mean.”
