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Larissa blinked, her expression shifting from relaxed to confused. “What?”

“With my family. The charm offensive. What's your game?”

Her confusion hardened into something colder. “My game,” she repeated. “You think I'm playing a game?”

“You covered for me in there. Made me sound like just a friend.”

“Would you have preferred I told them the truth? That you kept me against my will for months before deciding I wasn't actually a threat?” Her voice remained low, but the edge in it could have cut glass. “I was trying to help you, you ungrateful ass.”

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration building. “That's what I don't understand. Why help me? Why be so... real with my sisters? Why not use this opportunity to turn them against me and fight your way out?”

Larissa stared at me like I'd grown a second head. “Is that what you think of me? After all this time? That I'm just waiting for the right moment to stab you in the back?”

“It would make sense,” I insisted, even as I felt the ground crumbling beneath my argument. “I'm the enemy. Your brothers—”

“Must we bring my brothers into everything?” she snapped loudly. “Is that how it’s always going to be, Giovanni? Haven’t you understood that I’m not them?” She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly looking smaller. “Must I always think of playing a part that fits your narrative? I was just being myself, but clearly, I made a mistake.”

My throat tightened, guilt spreading through my chest. She wasn't playing a game. She'd simply been herself, and my family had responded to that authenticity in kind.

“I'm sorry,” I said, the words feeling inadequate. “I shouldn't have accused you.”

“No, you shouldn't have.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears in the dim light. “Not everything is a scheme, Giovanni. Sometimes people just... connect.”

I moved closer, drawn by the hurt in her voice. “You're right. I was wrong.”

“Again,” she added, but the corner of her mouth lifted slightly.

“Again,” I conceded, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Forgive me?”

Her eyes met mine, holding a depth I could drown in. “You keep asking for forgiveness and then doing things that need forgiving.”

“I'm trying to…be better,” I said softly.

She stepped closer, close enough for me to smell her perfume. She invaded my senses, making me feel worse for how I’d wronged her… again. “Try harder.”

I reached out for her as she shuddered with pain, my hands gently clasping her shoulders. The next thing I knew, her exhausted body leaned into mine, her face buried in my chest. When she looked up, her eyes were woeful, tired. “Is it so easy for you, Gio, to believe the worst in people?”

I struggled to find the right words, the guilt of doubting her gnawing at me.

“It's never been easy for me to trust,” I began, my voice soft. “But I’m sorry I made you the brunt of that. I’m sorry, Larissa. I truly am. I’ve just never had someone like you in my life.”

She reached up to cup my cheek gently, her touch sending a jolt of warmth through me. “Someone like me?”

I wrapped my arms around her, nuzzling my nose in her hair as I spoke. “Someone so pure. Someone who can see the good behind an act of evil. Someone who views the world in shades of grey, not just black and white.”

“You’re not evil,” she pulled back and wrapped her arms around my waist. “You’re not,” she said more insistently. “You’ve just got…”

“Trust issues?” I offered with a chuckle.

“Trust issues,” she smiled and dipped her chin, before looking back up. “But you’ve got to stop.”

“I know,” I murmured, my finger now reaching for her chin, caressing it. Larissa's gaze softened, her breath hitching as my touch lingered on her skin. The tension between us crackled in the air, stretched across our skin, drawing us closer.

Her gaze flickered down to my lips, then back up, a silent plea in her eyes. Her nearness was intoxicating, making me forget everythingbuther.

I needed to savor her, to feel alive in the way only she could make me feel. I leaned down just as she reached up, and my lips teased hers, testing. But then her fingers clenched my shirt, digging into my skin as I flicked my tongue across her lips. She opened for me, and as I entered, I nipped her lower lip before my tongue grazed her teeth, slid over the roof of her mouth, and she moaned softly. She thrust her hips into me, and I felt my blood and bones turn to molten lava, crawling toward my skin as every inch of me ached to feel every inch of her.

I was high. Higher than I’d ever been, all because of her.