Gio dropped me off earlier today.
He tried convincing me to stay—hands on my waist, mouth on mine, whispering things that made my knees weak—but I had already promised Anaya and Dominic I’d hang out with them. I could see he didn’t like it, but he let me go anyway. Barely.
Now I’m at the mall in jean shorts and my favorite long-sleeve crop top that says Los Angeles. Cute but simple. We had already been to nine stores and somehow I only had three bags. Anaya had nine—one bag from every store. Dominic had been suffering with us in the women’s section, so he finally dragged us into a men’s store.
He bought a cologne that smelled really good, then casually bought himself a Rolex like he was grabbing gum at checkout. Must be nice.
Outside, the argument started.
“Anaya, come on. Let’s just get Chipotle. Nobody is trying to go sit down at a restaurant,” I said.
She smirked like she had something planned. “Fine. One condition.”
I sighed. “What?”
She and Dominic both looked at me too dramatically. “We’re going to the club tonight.”
I laughed. “No. Be serious.”
“Come on, PLEASE. We haven’t been to the club in forever.”
She had a point. But instantly, Gio popped into my head. How would he react? He’d probably go quiet-mad. Jaw-tight kind of mad. But I wasn’t doing anything wrong.
I could just text him once I got there. Right.
“Fine,” I said. “But I’m not getting drunk.”
Anaya rolled her eyes but clapped. “Good enough. Chipotle it is.”
Later – At the Club
We lasted maybe fifteen minutes before I realized—I forgot to text Gio. Shit.
I pulled out my phone and typed fast:
Me: Umm hey handsome, I'm at the club. Anaya and Dominic convinced me to come. Just letting you know ❤️
Before I could send a second message, my phone died.
“Perfect,” I mumbled. At least I sent something, right?
I grabbed another drink and went to the dance floor with Anaya. The bass was loud, lights flashing red over the crowd. Dominic was already dancing with his second girl of the night—typical.
Anaya was dancing in front of me, hips moving to the beat while I held onto her waist. I was finally relaxing—until I felt someone’s hands slide onto my hips from behind.
I spun around fast. Some random dude was grinning at me like I asked for it.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I said, pushing his hands off.
“Relax, I just—”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence. One second he was talking, the next he was on the floor. Hard.
I turned—and my stomach dropped.
Gio.
He was standing over the guy, jaw tight, eyes burning. He didn’t look angry—he looked dangerous.
“Gio?” I breathed out. I didn’t even see him walk in.
He didn’t look at me. Not yet. His focus was still on the guy who had touched me, making sure he stayed down.
Anaya stared at me in shock. You know him? her expression asked.
I mouthed,I'll explain later , and then Gio finally looked at me—eyes furious, possessive. Without a word, he grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the club.
Outside, he opened the passenger door for me—but his jaw was locked. Silent rage. That’s worse than yelling.
The drive back to his place was dead silent. My heart was racing. He hadn’t even looked at me once, and that bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
When we pulled into his driveway, I reached for the door.
“Don’t you dare open that door,” he said, low and lethal. “Don’t make me more pissed, Angel.”
I froze. He got out, came to my side, and opened the door for me himself—because even mad as fuck, he still had manners. #greenflag
Inside the house, I started walking toward the kitchen to escape the tension, but his voice stopped me.
“You told me you were going shopping and eating with your friends,” he said. “You never mentioned a club.”
I turned slowly. “You’re right. I didn’t. They wanted to go last minute.”
His eyes didn’t soften. “You haven’t answered my calls or texts all day. Then out of nowhere I get one message from you—telling me you’re at a club?”
“I always have my phone on DND. And at least I texted you, didn’t I?” I folded my arms.
He stepped closer. “You think that’s enough?”
“There’s no reason for you to be mad,” I said. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
The second I said it, something shifted. His patience snapped.
In an instant, his hand wrapped around my throat—not choking me, just holding me still, making me look at him.
“Watch that attitude, Angel,” he said quietly, eyes locked on mine. “It won’t end well. Trust me.”
My pulse hammered. I didn’t look away.
He leaned in, his breath warm on my lips. “Next time you want to go to a club, you tell me. Understand? I’m not letting you be somewhere like that alone. And I don’t like men touching what’s mine.”
I smirked. “Last time I checked, I’m single, Giovanni.”
His eyes darkened. “No. You’re mine.”
“You never asked me to be your girlfriend,” I challenged.
His jaw flexed. He hated games—unless he was winning.
“Fine,” he said, voice low. “Angel… will you be my girlfriend?”
I paused on purpose, teasing. “Hmm. I don't know, Mr. Giovanni—”
He tightened his grip on my neck. “Stop fucking playing with me.”
I smiled. “Okay. Yes. I’ll be your girlfriend. Relax.”
He leaned in and kissed me—rough, possessive.
“But for the record,” I said against his lips, “you can’t force someone to say yes. That’s not how it works.”
He smirked, kissing me again. “You should know by now—I don’t play by the rules.”
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