Chapter 6 - The Real WorldBy midnight, the wedding reception had finally wound down to a chaotic, whispered murmur among the remaining guests, most of whom treated us like walking uranium. Every time Giovanni and I walked back into the ballroom to collect my coat, people parted like the Red Sea, lowering their eyes and offering tight, terrified smiles.
We left the Bellmont Grand in the back of a black-tinted Maybach, the city lights of Chicago blurring past us in a cascade of neon and rain.
I sat quietly in the plush leather seat, staring down at my hands. The adrenaline had completely worn off, leaving behind the sobering reality of my normal life. I was a pediatric nurse working double shifts, living in a modest apartment (which apparently my fake husband owned), and raising a five-year-old daughter.
"You're quiet," Giovanni said softly, breaking the steady hum of the engine. He was sitting across from me, his jacket off, his tie slightly loosened.
"I'm just thinking," I murmured. "About what happens now. We can't keep living this lie, Giovanni. Monday morning, we call a press conference, or we issue a statement saying it was a drunken joke, or—"
"Or what?" he interrupted, his amber eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made it difficult to breathe. "Do you want it to be a joke, Jessica?"
"It’s not about what I want!" I protested, throwing my hands up slightly. "It’s about reality! You're a billionaire titan with half the city in your pocket. I'm a nurse who counts coupons on Sundays. We live in two completely different universes."
Giovanni leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, closing the distance between us until I could feel the heat radiating off him. "Universes can intersect, Jessica. Especially when one universe is completely empty and the other is full of life, color, and a little girl who paints watercolor butterflies."
My breath hitched. "You've been checking up on me."
"I told you. I pay attention to the things that matter," he said quietly. He reached out, his warm fingers brushing gently against my cheek, tracing my jawline with a tenderness that completely belied his fierce reputation. "I didn't ask you to dance tonight on a whim. I saw you sitting there, carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders while people who didn't deserve a fraction of your grace tried to tear you down. I wanted to give them something to look at. But more than that... I wanted you to look at me and realize that you don't have to fight every battle alone anymore."
A tear slipped down my cheek—not of sadness, but of a long-suppressed release. For five years, I had been the strong one. The mother who never cracked, the worker who never complained, the woman who took every blow without flinching.
May you like
And for the first time in my life, someone was telling me I was allowed to rest.
"Okay," I whispered, leaning slightly into his touch. "Let's see what happens tomorrow."
