Page 60 of Brutal Obsession
“Um…” I nearly suggest my aunt’s place, but the memories of last night crash into me. Since I don’t want to lie in bed alone, staring at the ceiling, wishing he were there, I seek an alternative solution. “Where are you sleeping tonight?”
In less than a nanosecond, Giovanni replies, “Wherever you are.”
Now I’m really confused. Why would he choose to sleep in a rundown building when he has both a palace and a penthouse at his disposal? He’s either a foolish man or a lovesick chump…
My words trail off when the truth strikes like lightning.
He introduced himself to my mother as the man obsessed with his daughter.
My mother’s favorite saying is:If obsession isn’t love, I’ve never loved.
Does that mean what I think it does? Is Giovanni Caruso falling in love with me?
With my head in too much of a state to think logically, I brainstorm out loud. “My aunt only has a single bed, and with my mom at the hospital, I shouldn’t really take it from her.” My excuse would sound more convincing if I could get the image of my head resting on Giovanni’s pecs out of my mind. “Then there’s the villa… but it’s?—”
The arrogant tilt of Giovanni’s head cuts me off. His angled chin barely conceals the cocky grin pulling at his lips, and although it should be too early to admit this, his smiles are extremely telling.
“What did you do?” I ask, already knowing that his brash grins are a telltale sign that he’s done something drastic.
Pride flares through his eyes. He’s pleased I can read him as easily as he can read me. “Do you truly think I’d let your aunt return to her home after what we did there?” He bops my nose, distracting my attention from how we christened every surface of her quaint apartment. “Cute.”
He instructs the driver to take us back to my aunt’s building before explaining to me that my aunt is currently enjoying the luxury of a five-star penthouse suite. She has a butler, twenty-four-hour room service, and a live-in maid. He left nothing off the ledger, and it unhinges my jaw.
“What?” I squeak out in shock. “You did that?”
Dark hair falls into his eye when he dips his chin.
“When?” My escape took two hours at most. How could he have achieved everything I’ve been striving to do for years in a matter of hours?
I hate myself with every fiber of my being when he mutters, “Last night…” He internally fights with himself before blurting out, “And most of this morning.”
He wasn’t with Valeria last night. He was with me. Figuratively. This isn’t a paranormal romance.
Giovanni returns my jaw to its rightful spot before he continues convincing me this is a dream. “The penthouse is your aunt’s for as long as she wants it. By what I was informed earlier, she’s settling in nicely.”
I stare at him, words failing me. First he paid for Mom’s medical expenses, and now this?
My heart squeezes, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of his generosity. “It’s too much. I can’t ask you?—”
“You didn’t ask me to do anything,dolcezza,” he interrupts gently. “So nothing I’ve done is your debt to repay.”
I swallow hard, my throat dry. He’s doing too much too quickly, but every objection I endeavor to throw out clings to my tonsils. You can’t see the way he’s looking at me. His stare tells me he doesn’t want anything in return for his generosity.
Except perhaps me.
Instead of getting carried away in the euphoria of my dreams finally being answered, I speak from the heart for the first time in years. “Take us back to the Caruso Estate.”
Wordlessly, the driver seeks instruction from Giovanni.
He jerks up his chin before telling the driver to never second-guess my command again if he wishes to remain breathing.
“Please tell me this SUV has a privacy partition,” I whisper.
Giovanni’s dark eyes dart to mine, and something unspoken passes between us when he nods. Then desire takes over.
23
GIOVANNI
