Oh, cusses, now?
Yeah, she was pissed.
Leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb, Corrado settled himself on not moving unless she spoke up and told him what the hell was wrong now. “I’m not going anywhere unless you talk to—”
“God.”
Ginevra spun around fast, looking like an angry angel in her black lace, that ruby, white-gold necklace hanging low between her pert breasts covered just enough by the cups of the bra against her chest. At her sides, her hands balled into shaking fists.
But what hurt him the most?
The tears that formed in her eyes.
“You want to know what she asked me?” Ginevra asked.
Corrado swallowed hard. “I do. It upset you.”
“How much you two paid for me.”
What?
Corrado blinked. “I don’t ... what?”
“Yeah,” she snapped, scoffing, too. “That’s what she asked, Corrado. How much did you and Alessio pay for me—hard enough for a woman to find one man that looks like that, let alone two? So, how much are they paying to fuck you tonight?”
“Ginny—”
“Is that what will happen every time I step out in public now? The first thing someone thinks when they see me with you two is oh, she’s a whore. Because that’s hard for me to swallow, okay. Before Andino shoved me in your lap, I was able to count my partners on one hand. And now, I’m fucking two men. So, forgive me if I need five seconds to breathe. All right?”
He blinked again.
Like an idiot.
“You let her comment bother you that much?”
Okay, that might have been the wrong thing to say. Or even, a little cold of him. Still, this bothered Corrado that the first thing Ginevra felt when someone thought to place judgement on her choices or relationship with him and Alessio was something bad.
That she was a whore.
Or the suggestion she was a slut.
None of which was true.
It pissed him off.
“That’s what it was?” he asked.
Ginevra stared back at him, unmoved. “Yes.”
“Just that.”
“It’s not just that, Corrado. Think about what it means.”
“To you,” he intoned, “what this means to you, Ginevra.”
“I don’t get what you’re trying to say here, but—”
“No, because you’re stuck in your goddamn feelings about what one person said to you about your private relationship that has fuck all to do with them.”
She stilled, her back straightening fast at his harsh tone.
Corrado didn’t back down.
He wouldn’t.
This needed to be clear.
“You need to figure out what you want here,” he told her, pushing out of his lean to stand straight in the doorway. “Decide whether what makes you happy in private is worth the shit you might take in public, because shocker, this isn’t only you here, Ginny. We’re here, and we have to deal with it, too. Just because you have some complex about sex and relationships and monogamy, I suppose because society and religion and the rest of your life has spoon-fed what they consider to be appropriate and acceptable to you regarding our relationship or sex doesn’t make this wrong.”
Ginevra opened her mouth to speak, but he was quick to stop her with, “The way we love, or fuck, or live with each other behind closed doors, or out in the world, still will not be wrong just because someone else has a fucking problem with it. This is ours, and it doesn’t have to be the way someone else does theirs. Figure whatever out. We can’t do it for you.”
He turned to leave, but a scoff left his lips before he added, “And guess what, the man you wanted to fuck and liked before you ever knew about Les, and the rest of our life, is the same man you’re looking at right now. Just because none of that was staring you in the face before doesn’t change the fact we still existed. We are who we are—you either want to be a part, too, or you don’t. Simple.”
Corrado didn’t wait to hear what Ginevra had to say to that before he headed out into the hallway. He wasn’t at all surprised to find Alessio at the end, waiting for him and listening to the argument. Alessio arched a brow before following Corrado to kitchen.
Fuck.
He needed a drink, now.
Pulling a beer from the fridge, not his first choice, he slammed the door shut harder than was necessary. A black card stock he hung on the front of the fridge with a magnet fluttered to the floor, the gold flake detailing on the corners and white font staring up at him from the floor. Alessio was quick to come up beside him, and pick it up, reading over the invitation to a club opening coming up soon for his brother, Marcus.
“When did you get this?”
“Yesterday.”
“We should go. Get out of this penthouse again where we’re all stir-crazy.”
He wasn’t lying.
“I told Marcus I would go,” Corrado said, sighing.
Alessio gave him a look, leaning against the fridge. “Except, if this is an opening for Marcus, then there will be a handful of made men around, too, yeah?”
“Likely.”
“So, I’ll go, too.”
Corrado sucked air between his teeth. “You don’t have to.”
“Yeah, but you get twitchy around some older fucks, so ... I’m going.”
“Which means she’ll need to go, too, because she won’t want to stay here alone.”
Alessio didn’t miss the heat in his tone if his frown was any sign. “Give her those few minutes she asked for from the jump, Corrado. People need time alone to work through their shit, and you need to accept that.”
Right.
“And how long is that going to take?”
Alessio made a noise under his breath. Either he didn’t have an answer, or he didn’t want to give one. Corrado understood that all too well.
Until that night, apparently.
That’s how long it took Ginevra to get out of her feelings and decide she didn’t want to be without the two.
She darkened their bedroom door as Alessio drifted out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His footsteps hesitated, he made a noise in Corrado’s direction, and that was how he realized Ginevra was standing there.
The girl looked smaller than ever with her gaze turned down, and her arms crossed over her chest, making the over-sized T-shirt draped over her body tight around her trim waist. Still, Corrado said nothing as Alessio headed into the walk-in closet to pull something on for bed, and she stayed in the doorway, not coming an inch closer.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For?”
Ginevra let out a steady stream of air and shrugged her delicate shoulders. “Letting someone else upset me about this.”
“All right.”
As long as she understood that was what happened. It wasn’t her that did this—she let someone else affect her feelings. Someone who wasn’t here doing this with them. Someone who understood nothing about this thing of theirs.
That was all.
Those people didn’t matter.
If they weren’t in their life, their bed, or their home, then they didn’t get an opinion on what Ginevra, Corrado, and Alessio did together. Simple.
“The door is still open,” Corrado said.