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Chapter forty-two

Lark

Sunday, April 13, 2025

G ianni’s head is resting on my chest, his massive arm draped over my abdomen as I watch his chest rise and fall. He looks content like this. The usual worry he carries around is absent as he sleeps.

I run my fingers through his silky strands, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Last night was so much to digest that I hadn’t processed what he’d told the police officer. He’d called me his girlfriend.

Was he just saying that because it was the easiest way to explain what we are? Or does he assume that’s what we are? I’d love nothing more than for this man to claim me. To really be mine, and not just in the sexual sense.

I want to know everything about him. The parts he loves, and the ones he despises. The incredible memories and the ones that haunt him. I want every piece of him to be woven with mine because with Gianni De Laurentiis, I feel more myself than I ever have.

And I think he needs someone there to tell him that the things he’s feeling are valid, but there are ways to lessen the burden they hold over him. I can be that person for him. I desperately want to be that person for him.

He stirs above me, his dark lashes fluttering as he opens his eyes. Those crystal-clear baby blues stare up at me, and the edges of his lips spread into a smile as soon as his eyes meet mine.

“Good morning, ma petite rouge .”

“Good morning, mon ciel étoilé.” I smile at him, realizing this is the first time since we met that he doesn’t have dark circles.

“What time is it?” he asks me.

I grab my phone and see the screen light up with a text from my dad.

“It’s 7:44,” I tell him before opening the chat to respond.

Daddy-O

Hey little bird, still meeting me at the game today?

Wouldn’t miss it :)

Daddy-O

Perfect, see you soon.

Gianni kisses my cheek and rolls off me. “I’ve got to start getting ready for today’s game. You coming?”

I nod. “Yeah, I’m meeting my dad there.”

“Good.” He smirks. “I just hope you can walk straight today. ”

My eyes widen. “Asshole!” I shout playfully, smacking his chest, but he grabs my wrists. He brings my hands to his lips and kisses the inside of each wrist.

The tender gesture makes my heart clench in my chest, butterflies taking flight in my stomach.

“I’ll see you there,” he tells me, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips and heading to the bathroom.