Chapter 2: A Kiss for a Promise

Gianna’s POV

I took a slow step closer, my vision blurring. "What are you doing, Dario?" I whispered, the words barely clearing my throat.

He jolted in shock, scrambling backward against the vanity.

His fingers moved frantically as he zipped his trousers and slammed his phone face-down on the counter, desperate to shield the screen from my sight. 

But the damage was done. The image was already burned into the back of my eyelids. "Is that Franca, Dario?"

Franca had been my best friend since we were toddlers. We shared every childhood milestone and attended the same schools until her family relocated.

In our college days, Dario had been a beautiful nightmare, a wealthy playboy who weaponized his father’s reputation to rule the campus. Because of his arrogant character, Franca hated him.

But while I was helplessly, blindly in love with Dario, Dario’s entire world revolved around Franca.

She was the singular obsession he could never conquer. And she knew exactly how deep my love ran.

Back then, I used to plead with Franca to accompany me to campus parties just so I could breathe the same air as him.

Dario only ever crossed the room to speak to her, and those bitter moments were the only times I ever got close to him. 

It infuriated Franca that I let a man treat me like that, and it pained me that his eyes only ever searched for my best friend.

But I had managed to rationalize it all back then, because she didn't want him.

I remembered his lowest moment as if it happened yesterday. It was during our sophomore year.

Dario had tried to corner Franca in the quad, refusing to take no for an answer. 

In front of a crowded courtyard of students, Franca didn't just reject him, she slapped him across the face. Then, she humiliated him by spitting on his face before turning on her heel.

The blow to his pride was so severe that Dario vanished into his dorm room for a solid month, refusing to show his face to the world.

I believed that public execution had turned his love to ash. I thought he had finally let her go.

But standing in this suffocating club restroom, the truth hit me with a force.

He was here, snorting lines of white powder, losing himself to the memory of the exact same girl who had ruined his reputation years ago.

"What business is it of yours, Gianna?" Dario snapped, his voice rough and laced with a defensive tone.

"Why do you have to tail me like a shadow? Are you really that desperate for attention?"

"You haven’t answered me," I said, my voice fracturing as the tears finally spilled over. "Is that Franca?"

"And what the hell if it is?!" he yelled.

"She’s my best friend, for God's sake!" I choked out. "How could you do this to me?

Dario went completely rigid. The anger drained from his features, leaving behind a tense, heavy silence.

For a second, a flicker of genuine shame crossed his eyes. He knew he had crossed an uncrossable line.

"I can’t do this anymore," I whispered, shaking my head as I took a step back, the weight of the humiliation crushing my chest.

"What does that mean?" his eyes narrowed, his posture turning guarded.

"I’m tired of chasing a ghost, Dario. I’m done." I turned toward the exit, my fingers curling around the handle. "I’m telling your father the wedding is off."

Before the latch could even click, Dario lunged. His hand clamped around my wrist, dragging me backward.

"You can’t do that, Gianna! Are you out of your mind?" His face lost all its color, his eyes wide with a sudden panic. "That man will literally end me."

I looked at him through the blur of my tears, finding a spark of anger beneath my grief. "And you think I care?"

"No, no, damn it, that’s not what I meant," he stammered, his grip loosening as terror unraveled his usual composure.

I didn't want to hear his excuses. I wrenched my wrist from his grasp with every ounce of strength I had left and bolted out the door.

I tore through the pulsing crowd of the club on my heels, my vision filled with tears that I nearly collided with the pillars.

I didn't care who was watching the display. I ran straight into the night air of the parking lot, threw myself into my car, and drove home with a reckless, shaking hand.

The moment I breached the safety of my bedroom, I collapsed onto the mattress and let the darkness take me, completely shattered.

When morning light filtered through the curtains, the ache in my chest returned instantly.

How could a heart still beat for someone after this? I had witnessed the worst of him, yet the weight of his touch from senior year still held me captive. 

I sat up, staring at the glowing screen of my phone. I couldn't bring myself to face his father in person, so I pulled up his contact. One tap, and I would call it off.

But my thumb hovered over the screen.

With a frustrated cry, I tossed the phone onto the bed and switched it off. I knew Dario would be blowing up my line out of survival instinct, and I couldn't handle his voice right now.

What truly terrified me was my own father. If I canceled this, the Voss empire would collapse by the end of the week. We would lose everything.

I forced myself out of bed, showering and scrubbing the scent of the club from my skin. Downstairs, I heard my parents calling me to the breakfast table, but I ignored them.

I couldn't let them see my swollen eyes or risk my father reading the betrayal on my face. 

Instead, I stayed in my room, staring blankly at the ceiling until the shadows lengthened into evening.

A soft knock rattled my door. It was one of our housemaids. "My lady, there is…”

The door swung wide before she could finish, and Dario stepped into the room, his towering frame instantly dominating the space. The maid quickly retreated, pulling the door shut behind her.

I hated how my pulse immediately spiked. Even in a state of disarray, Dario was devastatingly handsome.

His dark hair was perfectly messy, his jawline sharp, and those dangerous, guarded eyes were locked entirely on me. 

The faint, expensive scent of his cologne drifted across the room, instantly triggering a pathetic wave of longing that threatened to melt my anger.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, standing up. "Did my father see you?"

"Of course he did, Gianna," Dario said, a familiar, arrogant smirk returning to his lips as he noted my state.

"And judging by the relaxed look on his face, you haven't breathed a word to him. He’s still planning the guest list."

"That is none of your business," I said, my voice trembling as he began a slow, deliberate march toward me.

Suddenly, a wave of insecurity washed over me. My eyes were puffy from hours of crying, my lips felt chapped, and the oversized silk nightshirt I was wearing offered zero protection.

I was always so conscious of how I looked whenever I was near him, and right now, I looked like a complete mess.

Dario stopped right in front of me, towering over the bed. "I know you don’t actually want to call it off."

"I do," I lied, attempting to slide backward away from him.

But Dario didn't give me the space. He lunged forward, his hands catching my waist and hauling my body flush against his chest.

The intense heat radiating off him burned through the thin silk of my dress.

My hands came up instinctively to press against his chest, intending to push him away, to fight him, but my muscles refused to cooperate.

"I’m done with you, Dario," I whispered, though my eyes were traitorously fixed on his mouth. "I mean it this time."

"Are you sure about that, Gianna?" he murmured.

He leaned down, his breath warm against my skin, and pressed his lips to mine in a slow kiss. It was everything I had spent years starving for.

My heart leaped into my throat, and I found myself softening against him, silently begging for more.

But just as my hands curled into his shirt to pull him closer, Dario abruptly pulled back, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. He knew exactly how to manipulate my weakness. 

"So," he whispered, "Is this wedding still happening?"

"No..." I gasped, though the word lacked any real conviction. I only said it because I wanted him to lean back down and kiss me again.

Dario let out a low chuckle, knowing the game was won. He closed the distance once more, but this time, there was nothing gentle about it. The kiss was bruising, possessive, and hungry. 

He captured my mouth completely, his tongue sliding past my lips, stealing my breath until my mind went blank and I was clinging to his broad shoulders like a drowning woman.

This was the first time Dario had ever held me like this. It felt like a fever dream. He was actually touching me, kissing me. Did he finally see me?

He pulled back just enough to look down into my dazed eyes. "And now?" he questioned.

"Yes," I breathed out instantly, completely intoxicated by his proximity.

"From now on, I’ll be at every single wedding rehearsal," he said, his fingers gently smoothing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "I can’t afford to cross my father."

A sharp pang of reality pierced through my euphoria. Of course he was doing this for survival, not for me.

But looking up at him, with my pulse racing and his hands still heavy on my hips, I realized I didn't care. I would take whatever scraps of him he was willing to give.

"Really?" I whispered.

"Yes."

His grip tightened on my waist, and with a sudden surge of strength, he lifted me off my feet. I automatically wrapped my legs around his hips, gasping as his mouth crashed back onto mine.

He carried me a short distance to the bed, pressing me down into the mattress as he hovered over me.

"But all of this happens on one condition," he whispered against my lips, his tone suddenly turning cold.

A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach, but my body was too wired to pull away. "What... is it?" 

"I am going to ruin Franca Moretti’s life," he said, his eyes turning lethal.

The words felt like a bucket of ice water over my head, knocking the breath right out of my lungs. I stared up at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he smirked, his thumb tracing a line over my jaw, "both of us are going to crash her engagement party in Las Vegas."