CAPO

14. Son of Frederico.

As Giovanni devoured Arabella, she couldn't shake the guilt from her bones. So, putting her hands on his chest and gently pushing him away, she exhaled a soft, pathetic: "Giovanni—"

"Hm?" He hummed, already missing the taste of her.

"We shouldn't be doing this," She said, her heart thudding loud and painfully in her chest. Now she had double guilt and humiliation within her. The feelings writhed in her bones, turning them to putty as she looked up at him. His eyes were hazy and low and filled with desire.

"I know," He said softly, pushing a strand of brown hair behind her ear. She licked her lips, looking away from his eyes.

"I'm sorry," She whispered.

"For what?"

"For leading you on,"

It was more of a question rather than a statement and Giovanni parted his lips in surprise, his eyebrows lifting. "Leading me on?" He asked almost pathetically.

She regretted her words instantly, but the look on Giovanni's face made almost scared her. His face had fallen to one a of deadpan and emotionless and she felt uncomfortable under his umbrella of surprise and hurt.

"I'll take you home," He stated, dropping his hands and clenching them at his sides. He turned, straightening his back and swiftly swinging his coat on, digging in his pocket for his cigarettes.

He held the lit cigarette between his lips, standing at the door. She sighed to herself, taking her purse and walked through the door as he held it open for her. Arabella's heart ached in her chest. Maybe it was because of the look of hurt on his face or maybe it was because she longed to be close to him again, to feel his warmth and to feel his lips on her again.

The drive to her apartment was probably the hardest thing Giovanni had to sit through. He had killed and murdered and tortured many people before, but seeing her looking down at her lap as she fiddled with her fingers, her face pulled into embarrassment and regret and every painful emotion out there, had Giovanni's chest burning.

He stopped in front of her apartment building, turning the car off. "Do you need me to walk you up?"

"No," She said, still looking down at her lap.

Giovanni nodded slowly, finally looking at her. She looked up and they made eye contact and she looked away instantly, her cheeks red and her hands shaking slightly.

"Thank you for dinner," She said. Giovanni hummed. "My pleasure, Arabella,"

She sighed, sparing him a quick glance before she opened the door and slipped out, looking up at the sky. It was drizzling slightly and she inhaled the smell of the rain, her shoulders loosening at the smell.

She stepped over a few puddles and pushed open the door, cutting Giovanni and her souls connecting in half, successfully putting a wall between them.

Giovanni sat in his car until she saw her apartment lights switch on, and only then did he start his car. He sped down the road, making his way to one of his pubs. His bullet wound throbbed slightly but he swiftly ignored it, the need to drown himself in whiskey was far too great.

"Giovanni!" The fat, sweaty bartender exclaimed, lifting his hands in the air. Giovanni slipped off his coat and nodded at him, "Whiskey, clean," He said. The man hurriedly took a glass from under the counter and filled it with brown liquid, sliding it to Giovanni.

"How've you been, Ant?" He asked, looking at the man as he downed his whiskey. Antonio shrugged, "Same old, same old. Wife's pregnant,"

"Oh, congrats,"

"It's not mine,"

Giovanni couldn't help but laugh at his straightforwardness. Antonio smiled, shaking his head. "You want a shot?"

"Hit me," Giovanni said, straightening his collar as Antonio slid him a small, fat glass. Giovanni threw it back, tequila running through his veins and pushing the familiar brunette girl out of his head. Antonio gave him another, and then another and soon, Giovanni was slightly slurring, but could still keep his composure.

"That lady's been lookin' at ya all night," Antonio said, nodding behind Giovanni. The man turned, a tall, blonde girl smiled at him, a martini glass held in her hand.

Giovanni, in his drunken state, smiled at her and that gave her the idea to stand up, make her way towards him.

"Hi," She smirked.

Giovanni's heart was still, calm in his chest. He had done this many times, so he looked up at her with his head tilted and his hands on display, back of his hands up so he could let her know just how powerful he was.

"Hello, blondie," He said, his lips pulled into a smirk.

"What's a handsome fellow like you doing here all alone?"

He shrugged gently. She raised her brow and Giovanni licked his lips, his eyes trailing over her, taking her in. Her black dress stopped mid thigh and her matching black heels gave her some height, but when Giovanni stood up and she craned her head to look at him, he felt his ego triple in size.

He held his hand open in front of her and she didn't waste a second in putting her hand in his. He gently pulled her behind him and he shot Antonio a wink, making his way to the bathrooms.

He pushed open the bathroom door and pulled her inside, her giggles echoing through the small, clean bathroom. He pushed her against the door and his lips instantly found its way to hers and she exhaled gently against his lips, through her arms around his shoulders, pulling on the back of his hair, making him hum against her lips.

And Giovanni then smirked as he felt her drop her hand and that's when he knew.

In a flash, he had gripped her wrist, slamming it against the door. She grunted, the black, shiny dagger held tightly in her hand. Giovanni's lips pulled up into a teasing smile.

"Ah, ah, ah," He tsked, shaking his head slowly, "You should know better," He said, putting her other hand in his hold, swiftly pulling the knife from her hand. He pinned her hands above her head as he leaned against her. She groaned in frustration, rolling her eyes at him.

He flipped the knife between his fingers before he pushed it against her throat, making her whimper as she parted her lips.

"Who sent you?"

"Your mother,"

Giovanni chuckled, "Don't test me, blondie. If you value your life you'll tell me,"

She rolled her eyes and Giovanni clenched his jaw, pushing the knife harder into her delicate skin. "Who sent you?" He repeated, his eyes now hard, and every drop of alcohol wafted through his skin and he bended slightly, making her look up at him, the knife digging further into her throat.

"Okay, okay. Vi dirò, vi dirò,"
[I'll tell you, I'll tell you.]

Giovanni found his answer in her Italian. He felt his veins stop pumping his blood and his skin tingled with shivers, fear finding its way in his chest, the yellow flower growing roots through every vein in his body. The petals of the flower grew around his throat and it stopped him from breathing.

"They know, yes?"

"Si, figlio di Frederico, lo sanno."
[Yes, son of Frederico, they know.]

And so it begins.