Page 61 of The Don's Eternal Vows

I press on, my voice gaining strength as I appeal to the part of Gianni I know still exists beneath the hardened exterior. "Remember who you were before Hades, amore mio. The man who protected the weak, who valued honor above all else. That soul isn't lost, it's still here." I place my hand over his heart, feeling its rapid beat beneath my palm.

"You left a piece of yourself in the underworld, but not all of it. I see glimpses of the real you every day, fighting to break free from Hades' influence." My eyes search his, imploring. "Don't let vengeance consume what's left of your humanity."

Gianni's breath catches, his shoulders sagging slightly as if the weight of his intentions is finally settling upon him. "I... I don't know how to let this go, Genoveva," he admits, voice barely above a whisper. "The anger, it's all I have left sometimes."

I cup his face in my hands, my touch gentle but firm. "No, it's not. You have me. You have us. And you have the strength to choose a better path."

As I speak, I see the change in his eyes - a softening, a flicker of recognition. The storm of emotions begins to calm, replaced by a dawning realization.

"Christ," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "What was I thinking? Targeting children... that's not who I am. That's not who we are."

My heart leaps at his words, hope blossoming in my chest. "No, it's not," I agree softly. "We're better than that."

Gianni's eyes meet mine, filled with remorse and a vulnerability I rarely see. "I'm sorry, Genoveva. Truly. Hades... his influence runs deeper than I realized." His voice cracks slightly. "I need your help to fight this darkness."

I pull him close, feeling the tension leave his body as he wraps his arms around me. "You have it, always," I whisper fiercely. "We'll face this together."

Gianni steps closer, his eyes locking onto mine. The remorse and longing I see there make my heart ache. His hand reaches out, hesitating for a moment before gently cupping my cheek.

"Genoveva," he murmurs, his gravelly voice thick with emotion. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, but..."

I lean into his touch, feeling the familiar calluses on his palm. "Shh," I whisper, placing my finger on his lips. "We've been through too much to let this come between us."

The air between us grows steamier now. I can smell that cologne on his skin, the aftershave on his jawline, the crisp freshness on his laundry.

He smells like himself. This smell - I missed it the most in the underworld.

“Gianni,” I whisper, my hand now resting on his chest, my eyes lost in the depths of that smoldering look he’s giving me.

Without warning, he pulls me to him, his lips crashing onto mine with a fierce urgency. I respond immediately, my hands fisting in his shirt as I press myself against him. The kiss is all-consuming, desperate and hungry, as if we're trying to devour each other whole.

His hands roam my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. I taste the bitterness of espresso on his tongue and the roughness of his lips against mine.

When his hands slip beneath my shirt, strong palms grazing my waist, I swear I taste the thrill I’m about to feel. His touch is electric, sending sparks racing across my skin, promising to make me feel alive.

"Genoveva," he growls, his voice husky with desire. "You're everything to me."

I arch into him, craving more contact. "Show me," I whisper, my breath hitching as his fingers trail higher.

Our lips meet again, but this time, it's different - slower, deeper, more intense. The kiss turns molten, stoking the flames of our desire. I lose myself in the sensation, the taste of him, the feel of his body against mine.

Suddenly, I'm moving backwards. Gianni guides me, his strong hands steady on my hips until my back hits the wall. He cages me in, one hand braced beside my head, the other still exploring beneath my shirt.

"Gianni," I gasp as he breaks the kiss to trail his lips down my neck. At the same time, his hands now reach the cups of my breasts, and he gently traces the outline of my bra, going agonizingly slow.

The world beyond us fades away. There's only this - his touch, his scent, the sound of our ragged breathing. I thread my fingers through his hair, holding him close as he nips at my pulse point.

My head spins, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Part of me wonders if we should slow down and talk more about what just happened. But a larger part doesn't want to think at all—just feel.

"Is this okay?" Gianni murmurs against my skin, ever mindful of my boundaries despite his obvious desire.

I nod, unable to form words, as his hand skims into my bra and flicks over my nipple, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "Yes," I finally manage. "Don't stop."

I gasp as Gianni's kisses trail lower and protest when his hand is out from beneath my shirt.

“Fiesty,” he laughs, observing my discontentment.

Gently, his hands slide down to grip my thighs. I stood up straighter, anticipating his next move with bated breath. When he drops to his knees, he looks up at me with a hunger that makes my knees weak.

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