Page 55 of Ruthless Royalty

Trust myself.

“Okay,” I say, the word slipping out before I can second-guess it. “Okay, I will.”

A slow, satisfied grin spreads across his face, and he leans in, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispers, “That’s my girl.”

The words send a shiver down my spine, and I feel a surge of something dark and exhilarating flood through me. This is what I want. Him. Us. The danger, the thrill, the unknown.

I pull back slightly, my voice hesitant as I ask, “What about Leo?”

Giovanni’s expression darkens, and I can see the flash of anger in his eyes. “What about him?”

“He doesn’t deserve this,” I say, my voice trembling as I look down. “He doesn’t deserve to be hurt.”

He takes a deep breath, his hand moving to grip the back of my neck as he forces me to look at him.

“Stop overthinking this, Chiara. You know what you want. You know what you need. And it’s not Leo.”

The truth of his words hits me like a punch to the gut, and I feel the last of my resistance crumble away. He’s right. I’ve been holding onto something that isn’t real, that isn’t what I truly want.

And now, it’s time to let it go.

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath as I finally allow myself to accept the truth. “I hate the fact that you’re right.”

When I open my eyes, Giovanni is watching me with a look that’s equal parts triumph and possessiveness. “I know you do.”

He pulls me closer, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that feels like a claim. It’s a desperate kiss, full of all the fear and frustration and longing that’s been building up inside me for so long. And he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pull away. He kisses me back with just as much intensity, his hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.

I lose myself in him, and for the first time in a long time, I stop thinking. I stop worrying about what’s right or wrong, about what this means, about the future. All that matters is this moment, this connection between us that I can’t deny any longer.

This is where I’m supposed to be. This is who I’m supposed to be with.

He pulls my hair back and breaks off the kiss. Grinning, he bites his bottom lip as he peers down at me. His other hand moves towards my neck, and he caresses my pulse, sending a thrill shooting through me.

“I could break you so easily,” he murmurs, tightening his grip on my throat, “but I’d rather keep you.”

“I think I could break you just as easily,” I say confidently, and he chuckles.

“You own me, Chiara, and I’m more than happy to let you. For now, I’m going to give you some space for the rest of the day, but from tomorrow I won’t be holding back,” he says, the tone of his voice sending a shiver down my spine. “When I leave, I want you to call Volkov and cut ties with him. I don’t fucking share.”

I swallow deeply and nod, then he pulls my hair harder, making me gasp. “Am I clear, baby?”

“Y–yes,” I murmur, placing my hand on his chest. “I’m yours, Giovanni.”

He tilts his head back and sighs. “That feels so fucking good to hear,” he says with a smirk, then he leans in close and kisses my forehead. “See you tomorrow, Kitten.”

With a heavy sigh, watch him leave, grab my phone from the nightstand and scroll through my contacts until I find Leo’s name. My thumb hovers over the call button, my heart pounding in my chest. I know what I need to do, but the thought of actually doing it makes my stomach twist in knots.

I know what I want, and for the first time, I’m not going to let fear hold me back. I’m done running from the truth; I’m done pretending to be someone I’m not.

Men like Leo are comfort, the promise of a quiet life. Giovanni is fire, danger, and the thrill of the unknown.

La mia tempesta— for better or worse, I’ve chosen the storm.

GIOVANNI

The sun is barely up, and I’m already on edge. The kind of restless energy that makes my hands itch for action, that makes my blood run hotter than usual. I’ve spent the entire night thinking about Chiara, about the way she said she’s mine, only mine.

Those words keep playing in my head, over and over, like a fucking drug I can’t get enough of.

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