Page 27 of And Everything In Between (Love By Any Means #3)

The restaurant screamed Los Angeles excess.

Giovanni scanned the room until he spotted Darren waving from a corner table.

And there, sliding in beside him with ease, was Sienna.

Designer dress, hair styled in perfect waves, smile calculated to disarm.

But the sight of her did nothing to him now.

Not anger, not desire, not even resentment.

Just a dull recognition of someone he used to know.

“G!” Darren called, standing to shake his hand. “Man of the hour. We’re getting started on appetizers.”

Giovanni nodded, sliding into the only available seat, directly across from Sienna. Her smile widened as their eyes met.

“Giovanni,” she purred. “You look good. LA agrees with you.”

He didn’t acknowledge her, instead he turned to Darren. “Spirit said you had some adjustments to the show you wanted to talk about?”

Darren launched into the details, and Giovanni let himself focus on the business at hand.

The network wanted more episodes, more personal content, more access to his life and process.

On paper, it was a good deal. In reality, it lended less privacy and less of what made his work meaningful in the first place.

Under the table, he felt something brush against his calf. Sienna’s foot, tracing a slow line up his leg. He shifted, moving out of her reach without breaking his conversation with Darren.

“I’m not interested in turning my shop into a reality TV circus,” Giovanni said firmly. “The show needs to focus on the builds, the community work, the craftsmanship. That’s non-negotiable.”

Darren hesitated. “The audience wants connection, G. They want to feel like they know the man behind the machines.”

“They can know my work,” Giovanni countered. “That tells them everything they need to know about me.”

Sienna leaned forward, cleavage strategically positioned. “What G means,” she interjected smoothly, “is that we need to find the right balance. I’ve known him for years, he’s a private person, but there are ways to showcase his personality without compromising his vision.”

A muscle flickered angrily at his jaw. “You don’t speak for me, Sienna. Never have, never will.”

The table went quiet. Darren looked between them, confusion evident on his face.

Sienna recovered quickly, her laugh too bright, too practiced. “See what I mean? Raw, authentic, that’s what makes him compelling. We need to capture that energy on camera.”

Giovanni leaned back in his chair, a cold smile playing at his lips. “Darren, can I keep it a buck with you?”

“Always,” Darren nodded.

“Sienna and I have history. Bad history. She stole from me, disappeared, and now she’s trying to leverage our past to get herself something.

I don’t know what her angle is this time and truthfully, I don’t care.

If she’s part of this project, I’m out. I ain’t ever in life giving anybody passes to play with me twice. ”

Sienna’s face froze, the calculated charm evaporating. “You can’t be serious. Darren, he’s exaggerating. I was young and dumb.”

“Fuck outta here with that. Thirty bands,” Giovanni cut in, his voice level. “That’s what she took. So, unless you finna run me my money ain’t no passes. She can’t be a part of my vision for this show.”

Darren looked uncomfortable, glancing between them. “I, uh, didn’t realize there was history here.”

“There isn’t,” Giovanni said, standing. “Not anymore. Call me when you’re ready to talk about the show I actually want to make.”

He dropped his napkin on the table and walked out, not looking back to see either of their reaction. Outside, the evening air hit his face, cooling the anger that had been simmering under his skin.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Paige: You’re always on my mind… (me singing) I hope things go well tonight.

Giovanni: Always thinking about you too and let me hear it later.

Back at his Airbnb, Giovanni found a package on the doorstep. No return address, just his name scrawled in unfamiliar handwriting.

Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was a die-cast model of a cherry red Cutlass. A note card fell out:

Something to remind you of home - Cinny.

He turned the model over in his hands, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Only Paige and Spirit knew where he was staying.

And only Paige would understand what this meant to him, his first build, the car that started it all.

She’d gotten lucky that there was a vintage toy car store near the area.

Technology earned her some brownie points.

Back in his makeshift studio, the sketch pad waited.

Giovanni sat down, the model car perched beside him and began to draw again.

This time, the lines flowed easier, his hands moved with ease, sounds of his skin scraping the paper made music.

Finally, the curves took shape, completing his masterpiece.

Something worthy of the woman who’d sent him this reminder.

When he finished, he sat back and studied what he’d created.

It wasn’t perfect. But it was special. Exactly like what was growing between them.

He took a photo of the sketch and sent it to Paige with no caption.

No explanation needed. She’d understand what he was trying to say.

That she was his muse.

That she was art.

That whatever they built together would be unlike anything either of them had created before.

The response came minutes later:

I’ve never been anyone’s muse before.

He traced his finger over the lines of his drawing one more time. One week. One more week, and he’d be back where he belonged. Back with the woman who’d somehow become his true north without even trying.