Beast I Can’t Tame by L.K. Shaw

Chapter 19

Francesca

I’mat our normal meeting spot inside the park, with my camera this time, taking pictures of flowers while I wait for Gio. A shadow crosses in front of me, and I glance up. God, that smile of his makes me weak and makes my heart race. I could look at it every single day and never get tired of it. I snag his hand and pull him over to what I consider our bench.

“How did your meeting with the Irish go?” I ask, softly, once we’re seated.

Gio hesitates, his expression torn with indecision.

“I’m not asking you to tell me specifically what you talked about. Just that you guys have a plan to help those women.”

“Nothing concrete yet, but I promise, we really are doing our best,” he admits. “That’s all I can say.”

I nod, not pushing any further. As hard as it is, I’m going to have to trust my family and Brenna’s to do what they can. It’s her grandfather that worries me the most. From what she’s said about him, I doubt he cares about the plight of innocent women.

“How are things with you? Class still going well?”

“It is.” I worry my bottom lip. “I sort of had a favor. It feels awkward to ask, though.”

“Sounds intriguing.” Gio waggles his eyebrows, and I smack his arm.

“Not like that,” I pause. “Well, maybe a little like that. One of our assignments is to start working on photographing a live subject. I was wondering if you’d be interested in being my model?”

“Clothed or unclothed?” he jokes.

“Clothed!” I exclaim loudly drawing the attention of several people walking by. I duck my head and lower my voice. “Clothed.”

“What a shame,” Gio teases.

I’m sure my cheeks flush even darker. “I’m not sure I’m ready for you to be naked. Not yet anyway,” I say with a little wink, trying to cover my nerves.

He leans back against the wooden bench. “Let me know whenever you are ready. I’m happy to oblige.”

I shift in my seat. Our little banter shouldn’t make me this aroused. “Anyway,” I redirect. “The studio is going to be open for us during certain hours next week. There are different back drops and lighting we’re allowed to use. I think there are even some costumes.”

Giovanni puts his hands up. “That’s where I draw the line. I’m either wearing my own clothes or I’m going naked.”

I bite back a smirk and try the innocent look on him. “What? You mean you don’t want to dress up in the black feather boa I saw in one of the chests? I think you’d look interesting in the cowboy hat in there. Get you some chaps and a wooden stick horse and you’d be all set.”

For a moment he pretends to be intrigued. “Are they ass-less chaps? Because I might reconsider my stance if they are.”

“You’re determined to embarrass me, aren’t you?” I say, but not with anger.

“I’ll admit to enjoying making you squirm a little, but I hope you know it’s only meant in fun,” Giovanni rushes to reassure me.

“Maybe I need to figure out what will make you squirm. It’s only fair that if you’re going to make me blush, then I do the same,” I say.

He tries not to laugh. “Feel free to give it your best shot.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it? You’ll pose for me?”

“Yes, of course I will. You tell me when and where I need to be.”

I throw my arms around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Gio gently squeezes me back. His scent fills my nose, and I burrow it further into his neck, breathing more of him in. His muscles are a bit rigid like he’s fighting against himself to hold me tighter or let me escape.

It’s him that pulls back, but he doesn’t release me completely. My arms are still looped around his neck. He pushes back the few strands of hair covering my cheek, his fingers lightly caressing my skin. I can’t help but lean into his touch.

Giovanni lowers his lips to mine. The kiss is just as good as the first two we shared. I open to him, my tongue shyly gliding against his. His flavor is like a sharp burst of my favorite dessert. I could easily become addicted to it.

He keeps the kiss soft and gentle. A whistle and cat call from nearby breaks us apart. It makes me want to kill whoever interrupted us, but I manage to harness the anger. We both sit back, but our thighs remain touching. He clears his throat.

“It looks like my mom is taking a page out of your mom’s playbook,” Gio says.

“Oh?”

“She showed up at my apartment unannounced the other day. A fact that really irritated me, because she shouldn’t even know where I live.”

“Are you kidding?”

Gio shakes his head. “I wish I were. Knocks on the door and strolls in like she owns the place.”

“What did she want?” I ask.

“She’s on a mission of me taking over the syndicate. Besides the drugs, it’s the only thing I’ve ever seen her so single-minded on. To make it worse, she also shared with me details of things going on in my life she shouldn’t know,” he emphasizes. “Even more weird, she knew things about you. Like the fact that your mom invited you to that charity thing.”

“Whoa, that is weird. Did she tell you where she heard it?”

Gio shakes his head. “No. Found it hilarious that she wasn’t going to tell me, in fact. Like this is a game.”

This isn’t good. Outsiders shouldn’t have insider information regarding things the organization are involved in. I’m pretty sure the luncheon is an exclusive, and expensive, invite-only event. So unless someone is a donor or club member, or knows someone who is, they wouldn’t know about it.

“Have you told Jacob?” I ask.

“I called him right after she left.”

I feel bad for what feels like tattling, but family business is family business. That is something drilled into every family member’s head from the time we’re little. Don’t share information with outsiders. It’s nearly sacrilegious to do so. That means, though, that someone had to have. Otherwise, how would Gio’s mom know?

“She’s going to get herself into a situation I won’t be able to get her out of.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and his gaze turns distant. “I’m not sure I want to, either.”

My heart breaks for the guilt in his voice. Regardless of what she’s done over the years, she’s still his mother.

“Will you tell me about her?” I ask.

Gio slowly turns his head to stare at me with resignation. I almost regret asking. It’s clearly a painful topic. Finally, he sits back, keeping his gaze turned forward overlooking the park. “Most of what I remember is being hungry all the time. There was never any food, because she spent all her money on drugs and alcohol. There was this teacher who bought me lunch a few times a week, because my mom would forget to put money on my card.”

He pauses a moment, his profile rigid. “I wore clothes that were dirty and too small because there wasn’t any money for new ones. I couldn’t invite friends over. And none of their parents wanted me coming over, because they didn’t want people to know their children were associating with Beatrice Saccone’s kid.”

My heart aches even more for the lonely little boy. There’s so much bitterness in Gio’s tone. It’s sharp and tangy.

“Everyone knew about the men that my mother associated with. Our neighborhood was small. People talked. I had to stop telling her about parent teacher conferences, because the one time she managed to stumble into one, she propositioned my teacher, as well as a couple of the fathers. It was non-stop until I was fifteen.”

“What happened then?” I ask.

He’s quiet again, so I wait until he’s ready to share.

“I woke up to find one of the men my mother invited to the apartment standing over my bed. He was,”—Gio take a deep breath and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing—“stroking himself. I screamed at him to get the fuck out of my room. He left, but I spent the rest of the night wide awake. The next day, I ran away.”

Tears threaten to spill from my eyes. His pain is palpable. I grab his hand, threading my fingers through his, and holding it tight. I scoot close and rest my head on his shoulder, pulling our joined hands into my lap. Gio’s whole body is tense. After several beats of silence, his muscles slowly loosen.

“I’m so sorry,” I say.

He lifts the opposite shoulder than the one I’m resting on, his entire frame shifting with the movement.

“It’s in the past, and I’ve come a long way from that kid. There are times I want to forgive her. Shouldn’t kids forgive their mothers? I understand her addiction is a disease. But then I think about that night, and all the others before it, and I can’t find it in myself to forgive her. I just can’t,” Gio says firmly.

I don’t blame him. In fact, I could hate his mother for what she did. “Thank you for trusting me with your story. This may seem hateful, something I try not to be, but whatever choices she made, they are on her. She’ll have to face the consequences of her actions. I won’t feel bad, and neither should you.”

Gio seems to relax even further under my cheek, as though relieved that I’m not judging him for not caring more about what happens to his mother. I appreciate his willingness to be open and vulnerable. To share his secrets. He’s stronger than me. I want to keep mine locked up tight. The only person who knows everything about my time in captivity is Theresa. The thought of spilling the ugly truth to Giovanni makes me sick to my stomach. So I’ll hold on to them a little longer.