22. Gianni

Chapter twenty-two

Gianni

F rom the first moment Lark arrived at the stadium—running along the side of the field to meet up with the owner of our team, who I assume is her father given their last names—I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off her.

I’ve been stealing glances at her the entire game, and each time I look in her direction, her eyes are already on me, and a strange feeling tugs in my gut. She seemingly never looks away, a permanent smile spread across her bowed lips as she watches my every move.

That’s why, when I spare a glance in her direction and I don’t see her, my eyes automatically search the area, finding her limp body being gently lowered to the ground by her Great Dane, Tiny.

My breaths come out in short pants as panic sears through me. My legs move of their own accord, taking off in a sprint toward her, her father also running in from the other direction.

We both reach her at the same time, falling to our knees beside her. I pull her across my lap as if on instinct. Dereck gives me a curious look but says nothing as he ditches the sports drink beside him, grabbing something from Lark’s fanny pack.

A small crowd has gathered around us, the on-site medics hurrying toward us.

“Is she going to be okay?” I ask Dereck. My words sound jumbled together, but I’m not even a little concerned about how my rushing over here will look to others.

“She’ll be fine, Gianni. Just keep your head down and wipe that look off your face, or you’ll wind my daughter up in a tabloid,” he whispers so quietly I almost don’t hear him. He pushes the plunger on the syringe, and the liquid transfers into a small vial with a white powder. He detaches the needle, shaking the vial before reinserting the needle, and finishes pulling up the fluid from the small orange case before glancing up at me briefly. Jesus, that seemed like a process. “Hold her very still for me, please.”

I do as he says and watch as he meticulously administers the fluid-filled needle into her delicate, porcelain skin. His hand shakes with an almost imperceivable tremor, but it’s enough that I notice, and my heart plummets even further in my gut.

The medics stand by, waiting to see if they’re needed, and a moment passes by before her lashes are fluttering open, the big hazel orbs staring up at me. I see the very moment she recognizes whose arms she’s in because her cheeks turn pink instantaneously as she tries to move out of my lap, but I hold her to me.

“Just…” another deep breath in, “just wait another moment, okay? You just came to. Please just chill out for a second before you go flying out of here.”

She gives me a small nod and Tiny stands from his position at her side, watching his owner, ensuring she’s okay .

A hand snaps to her head, rubbing her temples as she groans, her eyes cinching shut. She drags in several shaky breaths, and for each one she takes, I swear, I mirror the action.

I reach over Lark, scratching the massive dog behind his speckled ears. “You’re a good boy, huh? Your mommy’s lucky to have you,” I tell him, my voice wavering and my chin trembling.

When I peer back down at her, those supple lips of hers are open the smallest bit, and I have to fight the urge to duck my head and take a taste.

Her dad clears his throat. “You ready to give this whole standing thing a go?”

She nods her head, reaching for his hand as he pulls her up out of my lap. She stands on shaky legs, and the medics move in, ready to take over.

Those around us cheer, and Lark takes a seat beside her dad, taking small sips of the sports drink he brought over for her.

As I make my way back to the field, I see Damien standing to the side, a smirk spreading his lips. Unease trickles into my stomach, but I brush the thought away, trying to focus on the game as the paramedics help Lark over to the ambulance, pulling away a few minutes later.

We finish the game, winning three to zero. I drag my exhausted body across the field, hoping to shower and head home to take Pickles out before Sunday dinner at my parents’ house, but as I enter the locker room, Damien is leaning against my locker.

“Move,” I tell him, shouldering past him to grab the duffle I left on the bench.

He leans into me, gripping my forearm tightly, and says, “It turns out your little boyfriend can be replaced, huh?” Alex was never my boyfriend, but that doesn’t matter. Because now he’s going after Lark too.

“I don’t feel like getting into it with you. Just get the fuck out of my way. Steer clear, and we won’t have any problems,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Hah, tell that to the fucking plastic surgeon who had to fix my pretty face back up after the job you did on it,” he growls like a fucking deranged animal.

I shouldn’t warrant that with a response, but I do anyway. “You should be glad that’s all I did. If anyone on this team knew the shit you spewed to get your face wrecked, you wouldn’t be here at all.”

Grabbing my things, I leave him there, not caring for whatever slow-ass reply he’s cooking up in that Neanderthal brain of his.

***

In all the years I’ve called these people my family, I’ve never once missed a Sunday dinner unless it was for an away game, but today, I’m just fucking exhausted.

I want to go home, hang out with Pickles, and see if I can somehow check in on Lark. From what I gathered, she has type 1 diabetes, so she probably had low blood sugar, but I’d like to know why .

If I’m being honest with myself, I’d like to know every damn thing about that woman.

Mom, I’m really sorry, but I’m exhausted. I just want to go home and sleep .

Almost immediately, as if she were waiting for this text, she replies.

Momma

Mi bambino, go rest. We’ll see you soon 3

Thank you. I love you.

Momma

I love you more, my sweet boy.

***

Once back in from my walk with Pickles, arms filled with the biggest bouquet of red and pink flowers that I could find from one of the street vendors in the park, I pull out my phone. I figure I’ll text Kat to see if she happens to know Lark’s unit number.

I pluck a flower from the bouquet as I wait for a reply, placing it in a tall glass cup with water. This way, when they’re getting close to dying, I’ll know when to replace them.

Assuming she even wants me to be in her vicinity. I’m not exactly a very “fun” person to be around, so I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t.

She responds a few nerve-wracking minutes later.

Kat

236

Kat

But you didn’t hear it from me .

Kat

Kidding, I had to text her for the door number and told her you’d be over soon. Go get the girl Gi.

Thanks Kat. You’re the best.

Though she’s got no business lodging that little bit of hope in my chest the way she does.

“Hey, pretty girl, I’ll be back in a bit, okay? I don’t want Lark’s doggies getting upset about you being in their space.”

Her head bobs in understanding, but her ears are on high alert from my mention of Lark’s name. She’s even got my dog falling all over her.

I rush out, making my way to her floor, and the moment I’m at her door, my feet won’t move any farther, unable to take the extra step forward to knock. Should I leave? Is this too awkward?

“What would Alex tell me to do?” I ask myself quietly, considering this. With a huff, I rap my knuckles against the door, and as if she were waiting for me, her door bursts open. Her cheeks are flushed, her glossy hair splayed out around her shoulders.

God, she’s gorgeous. It takes everything in me not to groan at the sight of her.

“Hey, Gianni. Uh, come in.” She waves me inside.

Taking a step into her apartment and removing my shoes, I peer around the room. It’s exactly what I pictured from someone as vibrant as her. She has splashes of color all over and seemingly hundreds of photos framed and hung on every surface. It’s both overwhelming and chaotically beautiful .

“Sorry, I would’ve cleaned up, but I wasn’t expecting visitors,” she rushes to tell me, and the moment her eyes zero in on the massive bouquet of pink and red peonies, her eyes go wide, that round bottom lip jutting out. She redirects her eyes on me. “They’re beautiful,” she says, sounding breathless.

Apparently, I’m all in on this because the next words to leave my mouth leave us both stunned. “Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman.” Her lips part, eyes dilating as she stares at me. My heart hammers in my chest, and I fight the need to cringe inwardly. 1

I busy myself, heading into her kitchen to look for a vase as I leave her gaping at me in the living room. I find a dark-red one with a deep base and work to fill it up, then trim the ends of the stems. When I’m finished, I look over to see her seated on the countertop of the kitchen island behind me, watching my every movement.

It appears her normal spunk has reappeared. “And what brings you here, Mr. De Laurentiis?” She smirks at me.

“I came to make sure you were okay.” My words feel thick in my mouth as flashes of earlier play through my mind. I approach her, my hands resting on either side of her hips on the counter.

I watch as her pupils dilate, reacting to my proximity. The reaction has my dick hardening, and it seems she’s the only person to have that effect on me. It’s nice to know my dick even works.

As she continues her blatant perusal of me, I take the time to do the same to her, no longer stealing glances but outright staring this time. She has a dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose, and her eyes are like pools of rust, emeralds, and liquid gold swimming together. My gaze dips down her neck, her breasts full as they make an effort to burst from her white tank top, but before I can make my way farther down, she clears her throat, causing my eyes to snap back to hers.

“See something you like, Mr. De Laurentiis?” she asks, her tone light and flirty. But that’s not why I came here, so I take a step back. One of the most difficult steps of my life, might I add.

“I always see something I like when you’re in a room with me, but you still haven’t answered my question.”

“That’s because you never actually asked a question.” She snorts, the sound sending a shiver of pleasure down my spine. “It seems you were too distracted by something to finish your thought.”

I feel heat climb up my neck. “Apparently, that happens more often than not where you’re concerned.” I groan, gripping the back of my neck. “Why did you pass out today?”

“I had an episode of hypoglycemic unawareness.” She shrugs. “It’s when my blood sugar drops too low, but I don’t realize it’s happening because I don’t get the normal symptoms that others experience, which would alert them to the problem. I just, kind of, drop.” She shrugs. “Which is why I’ve got Tiny around to warn me and make sure I make it to the ground safely.”

“And that shot your dad gave you, that was something to raise your blood sugar?”

She nods. “It was.” Assessing me, she says, “How’d you know that was my dad? Have you known he owns your team this whole time?”

“I knew he owned the team, but I had no idea that you were related. I’d never seen you at any of our games before; I’d have remembered if I had.” I duck my face for a moment, embarrassed by my sudden boldness. “What happened that made it drop so low, do you know?”

Her face contorts in a look of guilt. “Yeah.” She groans. “The cord to my fridge wasn’t plugged in all the way, so somehow it slipped out during the night, and I woke up with bad insulin. I used up what I had left from my stash at the clinic, but then I forgot to eat.”

“Are you okay now? Do you have enough?” If she didn’t, I’d make sure she did. I’m certain that between Rose, Kat, and Aiyana, they could get her whatever she needs, or I’d figure out another way.

“I do. I wasn’t expecting the next three weeks of medication to go bad, but I stopped at the pharmacy on the way home from the hospital. They also gave me a small supply when I got discharged, and I replaced my glucagon.”

I consider this, but I am not a fan of how sensitive this medication seems to be. “Would you want to keep a vial or however it works at my place? That way, if something happens to yours here, you know I’m just a stone’s throw away.” A stone’s throw? Who am I, a ninety-year-old?

Her eyes widen, and her lips part. “That’s, wow, that’s actually a super sweet offer. I mean, if you wouldn’t mind, that would honestly give me a lot of peace of mind. My dad, too, I’d imagine,” she says.

I nod, leaning back against the counter again and crossing my arms. “Alright, then it’s settled. Do you have a piece of paper I could write my door code down on for you? That way, you can grab it if you need it, even if I’m not home. ”

Her light brows knit together. “You’d trust me with your door code?”

“No offense, but I’m not too worried about you beating me up. Honestly, I’d probably like it.” I smirk as heat creeps up her neck at my words.

She hops off the counter at that, scrambling around until she finds a hot-pink pack of sticky notes in the drawer. She groans, looking up at me in an expression I can’t quite decipher before she hands them to me with a pen.

As I peer down at the paper, a laugh almost escapes me, but I manage to muffle the strange snorting sound. “Are these what I think they are?”

She covers her face with both hands, dragging them down slowly. “Mama De Laurentiis book club merch? Absolutely.”

I suck my lips between my teeth, having to physically hold them shut to prevent the laughter threatening to escape me. These sticky notes are shaped like penises, and with that, there’s a faint shadow of cum dripping out of the tip. “Jesus Christ,” I breathe out. “Why is my mother like this?”

“I don’t know, but I kind of love it. You know, if it weren’t for her, her incredibly sexy son wouldn’t be standing in my kitchen staring down at my penis sticky notes.”

My lip turns up at that. “You think I’m sexy?” Where did this sudden playfulness come from? I’ve never been this frank with anyone in my entire life.

“You know you’re sexy,” she says, rolling her eyes, strolling out of the kitchen and toward the dogs lounging lazily in the living room. I jot the door code down quickly, leaving it on the kitchen counter before joining her .

As I approach the dogs, I peer over at her. “I don’t know; he doesn’t seem too vicious,” I joke.

“You know, he doesn’t usually let people in the house, and he definitely doesn’t let them cage me in on the kitchen counter, so he must sense that you’re not a threat or something. Though it took him months to warm up to my dad, and he’s the best person I know.” She shakes her head, her wavy hair flying around her face.

“I’m glad I get the Rex seal of approval. Here’s to hoping this isn’t just his attempt to make me feel comfortable before a sneak attack.” I chuckle, the sound foreign to my own ears.

Lark’s head is tilted as she takes me in, a look of wonder on her face as if she’s not sure what to think of me. She runs the palms of her freckled hands down her bare, porcelain thighs nervously. “Wanna watch a movie? If you don’t have other plans, that is?”

A movie? When was the last time I watched a movie with someone outside of my family? No better time than the present, I suppose. “Sure, that sounds nice.”

I follow her to the couch, taking a seat on the opposite end of the light-gray sofa. “What kind of movies do you like?” I ask her, hoping she’ll suggest a rom-com or a Disney movie so I don’t have to. They’ve always been my favorite, but that’s kind of hard to admit to a woman I’m so desperately attracted to.

“I watch a little of everything, honestly. I love thrillers, horror, romantic comedies, cartoons, and I love anything with fast cars!”

“Horror, really?” I’m not going to lie, horror fucking terrifies me. I’ve got enough demons in my own mind. I don’t need them on a screen too.

“Yeah, but let’s skip that actually. I can’t sleep alone after watching one and, well, you know.” What she doesn’t say is the part about her newly having to sleep alone. And I can’t even begin to dissect the reason why I’m so damn thrilled about that. Plus, it’s the perfect excuse to not have to watch a fucking scary movie.

“How about a rom-com, then?” I ask, doing my best to hide the hope in my words.

“Hmm,” she hums, assessing me. “I gave you all those options, and you still chose a romance, didn’t you? Like mother like son.” She laughs, and my cheeks flush as she grabs the remote off the wooden coffee table.

Heat climbs up my neck . This fucking woman .

The way she’s able to read me already has me unnerved.

“I don’t mind them,” I tell her, doing my best to sound indifferent.

She rolls her eyes as she scrolls through movies before landing on Made of Honor . “This’ll do,” she says as she lounges back against the cushions, propping her feet up on the coffee table and pressing play.

Having her feet on the table drives me a little insane. I’m starting to think that I might have some form of undiagnosed obsessive-compulsive disorder. But it’s another thing I’m not willing to talk about just yet, so I reach over, grab her perfectly manicured little feet, and lay them over my lap. Her toenails are painted teal, and she has a gold toe ring wrapped around her second toe on the left foot.

“Was something bothering you, Gianni?” she asks me, her voice light and airy as she holds in a laugh.

“Not at all.” I do my best to keep my voice smooth and controlled. “Just giving you a more comfortable place for them. ”

“Ah, I see.” She sucks her lips into her mouth, shoulders quaking with uncontained laughter as I become nauseous with worry at what she could possibly be about to say. She makes me feel bare.

And I can’t stand it .

I feel unhinged around her. Like every thought and secret I hold locked inside of the Pandora’s box within the carefully crafted shell of a person that I’ve become has been broken open for her, and her alone. She reads me like an open book. Every page written just for her eyes.

The next words out of her mouth break me out of my spiraling thoughts.

“You,” she points at my chest, “Gianni ‘whatever your middle name is’ De Laurentiis, have a foot fetish,” she tells me with a mischievous smile.

It’s so bright and beautiful that it takes me far longer than it should to process the words she’s just spoken.

A… a foot fetish? A fucking foot fetish? Goddamn this woman .

Everything about her leaves me reeling, so instead of answering her, I do something neither of us expects.

1. Cupid's Chokehold – Gym Class Heroes