Page 45 of The Bonventi War

I nod a little too eagerly. "Oh yes, it's beautiful. It's just… a lot."

Gio smiles. "Say you'll wear it tonight, and every night after."

"I will," I promise.

"Good. Let me put it on you."

I turn and lift my hair, and Gio places the necklace around my neck. He presses his body into me slightly as he does, and I instantly find myself wanting more of it.

"There," he says.

I turn and look at him. "Well?"

"Stunning. The necklace looks very nice on you, too," he says with a smile and offers me his arm. "Shall we?"

I hold his arm the entire way to his waiting car. Even in the elevator, I don't let go, and he doesn't seem to mind.

I slide into the back of his Rolls Royce, and as we pull away, I can't help but fidget with my new necklace. The weight of it feels foreign, yet comforting. I catch Gio watching me out of the corner of his eye, his gaze intense as always.

Suddenly, he breaks the silence. "Why do you do that?"

I blink, confused. "Do what?"

"That," he says, pointing to my hand. I realize I've been absently rubbing my tattoo again.

"Oh." I stop immediately, feeling self-conscious. "It's just a thing I do."

"I know, but why?" His voice is softer than usual, genuinely curious rather than demanding.

I hesitate. "Is it that obvious?"

"You do it a lot. I've seen you do it when you're upset, angry, happy, and if I had to guess, nervous now?"

"Okay, Mr. Observant," I retort, trying to mask my discomfort with sarcasm.

He laughs. "Well, with you, it's easy to observe."

I hesitate for a moment but decide to answer him truthfully.

"Well, it's my mom." I hold up my wrist, showing him the small raven inked there. "Not like my actual mom—I assure you I didn't come from a bird."

"Are you sure? I do see a slight resemblance," he teases, his eyes carrying a hint of amusement.

"Oh, shut up. Do you want me to tell you or not?"

"Please," he says with a smile. "I'm all ears."

"My mom got sick when I was sixteen. Cancer." The words come out quieter than I intended, even after all these years. "Before things got really bad, we went and got matching tattoos. My name, Ravenna, is Raven in Italian, so that's what we got."

I pause, lost in the memory for a moment. I remember that small tattoo parlor in a rough part of Chicago, the sting of the needle, my mom's hand squeezing mine.

"It was one of the happiest days of my life," I continue. "It was right before she started chemo. She said she wanted us to havesomething that connected us forever, something that cancer couldn't take away."

I blink back tears, trying to compose myself. "When we all knew she was going to die, she told me that whenever I wanted to talk to her, I could just say what was on my mind while rubbing my raven, and it would carry the message to her. So—shit, my makeup," I say, feeling a tear roll down my cheek.

"Here." Gio hands me a crisp white handkerchief, monogrammed with his initials.

"Sorry, I?—"