We are on our way to dinner with my family.
The whole ride Gio won’t stop talking about how I shouldn’t damage my curls.
“If you ever straighten your hair, I swear I’m gonna throw water on you and wet it. I’m not playing,” he says, eyes flicking between me and the road, his tone half-serious but his jaw set like he means it.
“You’re so dramatic,” I say, laughing a little as he parks the car.
“I’m not playing,” he repeats, voice lower this time, and gets out. He walks around and opens my door for me like he always does. He holds out his hand and I take it.
“I love your curls, baby. You look beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing my forehead before tugging me close by the waist as we walk up to the house. The warmth of his hand grips my hip possessively, like a silent warning to the world: shes mine
We knock and my mom opens the door with a bright smile.
“Hey darling—who is this handsome guy?” she asks, eyes immediately curious.
“Um—he i—” I start to answer but Gio cuts in smoothly like he’s been waiting for this moment.
“I’m her boyfriend. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Gomez. I’m Giovanni Diaz,” he says, voice confident, holding out his hand with that respectful-but-intimidating tone he has.
“Boyfriend?” She raises a brow at me. “How come you’ve never told me about him?”
“It was recent, Mom,” I say fast. “Where’s Dad?”
“He’s inside with the others,” she says, stepping aside to let us pass.
The house feels heavier than usual, like it can sense tension before it even starts. Gio keeps his hand on the small of my back protectively as we walk inside.
“Hey, Father,” I say, approaching my dad who’s talking to some relatives.
“Hey baby, how are yo—” he stops mid-sentence the second he sees me and Gio together. His expression shifts instantly—confused, then guarded.
“What?” I ask.
“Who’s he?” he says, eyes locked on Gio like he’s already trying to size him up.
“He’s my boyfriend,” I say, bracing myself.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Gomez,” Gio says, extending his hand. Calm. Solid. Unshaken.
My dad shakes it, but his eyes narrow. “Nice to meet you too… Gio.”
Something in the way he says his name sends a chill down my spine. Like he already knows more than he’s saying.
WAIT, THEY KNOW EACH OTHER...The air changes.
“You know him?” I ask, looking between them.
My dad nods slowly. His voice heavy. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
I nod, and Gio lets me go reluctantly, squeezing my hand once like a silent promise before I follow my father outside.
The night air is cold and tense.
“How long?” he asks sharply.
“Two months. Why are you asking?”
“You know?” he says, searching my eyes.
“What, that he’s in the Mafia?” I say.
He stops breathing for a second. He wasn’t expecting me to say it so easily. “He told you? And you don’t mind that he’s the boss—and your life is in danger if you’re with him?”
“I know my life is in danger,” I say. “But I trust him. And I know how to protect myself, Dad.”
My dad shakes his head, like he wants to argue but knows he won’t win. His jaw clenches.
“Do you love him?” he asks.
The question hits harder than I want to admit. “I… I don’t know. Maybe I do. I don’t know yet,” I whisper.
He nods, eyes softening just a little. “I just want you to be safe. I’m not going to tell you that you can’t be with him… but I need you to understand this life is not a game. Be careful, Sierra.” He pulls me into a hug. “I don’t want to lose you.”
His voice cracks.
And in that moment… everything feels real. Too real.
I nod, and he says, “Can you call him? I need to talk with him.”
“Yeah, but don’t be mean,” I whisper back.
“Me? He’s the Mafia boss,” Gio says, a sly smile tugging at his lips.
I laugh, scanning the room for him—there he is, talking to my mom and a few older women, completely composed.
“My dad wants to have that ‘Dad talk’ with you,” I whisper in his ear.
He stiffens, a flicker of nerves crossing his face. “Okay… where is he?”
I point toward my dad, and Gio nods before walking off. Twelve minutes later, he returns, his composure intact, and we settle into the family dinner.
I lean in slightly and whisper, “What’s on your mind?”
His hand is already on my thigh, fingers digging in just enough to make me shiver. “I want to fuck you,” he murmurs, his tone low and dangerous, paired with a teasing smile.
“You always do,” I reply, voice almost breathless.
“Mhm,” he hums, letting his hand slide over me, pressing against my panties just enough to make my knees tense.
“So, Gio,” my mom’s voice cuts through, perfectly timed.
He glances at her, a flicker of respect in his eyes, but doesn’t move his hand, and I bite my lip, trying not to moan.
“What do you do for a living?” she asks.
I glance at him, silently bracing for his answer. My dad knows the truth—he’s the Mafia boss—but my mom doesn’t.
“I have a couple of businesses, ma’am,” Gio says smoothly, giving me a wink that sends a jolt through me.
She nods. “And how did you two meet?”
I almost choke, but he keeps his composure. “I met her at the mall, we exchanged numbers, and here we are,” he says with a charming smile.
I lean in slightly and whisper, “Good lie… but you know I still don’t have your phone number, right?”
He chuckles softly, eyes on my mom, and I can feel the heat of his gaze on me—smoldering, dangerous.
The conversation fades into background noise, and soon we’re heading back to the car. Gio opens my door for me, then slides into the driver’s side.
It’s eight PM, and we’re on our way to the club. The air is thick with tension, and I can’t resist teasing him.
As always, his hands are resting on my thighs. Slowly, I place mine over his, letting my fingers wander just enough to make him tense.
“What are you doing?” he asks, voice low, almost a growl.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, letting my hands glide over him.
Immediately, his hands cup me, pressing against me, his grip firm and possessive. I place my hands on his thighs, moving slowly upward, and hear his low groan of approval.
I inch closer to his erection, feeling it straining under my touch, and he lets out a warning.
“Angel, I don’t think its a good idea I might have to fuck you right here —”
I cut him off, a teasing smirk playing on my lips. “Hmm? Fuck me right here? My baby’s so desperate, hmm?”
He tries to speak again, but I’m quicker. I unzip his pants, sliding my hands underneath, feeling him pulse under my touch. He groans, louder this time, eyes dark and intense.
“Angel, I—”
I tighten my grip, cutting him off, and hear a sharp, breathy “Fuck…” escape his lips. I take him fully in my hands, letting my movements tease and torment him just enough to make him lose control.
I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean forward, pressing my lips to his ear, then his neck, feeling him shiver beneath me. His hands grip my hips, possessive, his groans low and hungry.
The car feels smaller, the air thicker, charged with tension, desire, and a dangerous kind of intimacy that only Gio can bring.
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