Chapter 6 - The Real Deal
That evening, back in Chicago, the private Maybach pulled up outside Jessica’s apartment building. The street was quiet, bathed in the amber glow of streetlamps.
Giovanni turned off the engine, but he didn't reach for the door handle. He turned in his seat to look at Jessica, who was unbuckling her seatbelt, the tension of the weekend finally draining from her shoulders.
"Well," Jessica sighed softly, looking out at her modest apartment building. "The Vances are ruined, your aunt respects me, and I didn't get disowned or arrested. I'd call that a successful weekend."
"Is that all it was to you?" Giovanni asked quietly. "A successful weekend?"
Jessica paused, turning to meet his gaze. The streetlights caught the sharp angles of his face and the deep amber of his eyes.
"Giovanni," she said gently. "You know as well as I do how this started. You needed an ally to get out of an arranged marriage; I needed protection from Tyler’s harassment. We used each other."
"Did we?" Giovanni reached across the console, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. His touch was warm, deliberate, and entirely tender. "From the moment I saw you sitting at Table Twelve, fighting back tears while refusing to break, I didn't want an ally, Jessica. I wanted you."
Jessica’s breath hitched. "You didn't even know my name."
"I knew everything that mattered," he murmured. "And as for the marriage registry... my aunt was right about one thing. In our world, a Fierro does not enter into a fiction lightly."
He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a ring that hadn't been there before—a vintage platinum band encrusted with rare amber diamonds that caught the dim light of the car dashboard.
"The registry update isn't a strategy, Jessica," he said, his voice dropping into a fierce, absolute sincerity. "It's real. If you'll have me."
May you like
Jessica stared at the ring, then up into his eyes. She saw no calculation there, no corporate maneuvering—only a man who had chosen her when she was at her most vulnerable and stood by her as she claimed her strength.
She smiled, sliding her hand into his. "I suppose... one more dance won't hurt."
