GIO (Interracial Rockstar Romance)

Ru still hadn’t picked up his fork. “Next time, we’ll travel together.”

“No,” Gio said. “Next time, she’ll use my plane and driver.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Ru picked up his fork. “I’m her manager. This is my domain.”

Gio nodded. “You’re right. As long as you know where your domain ends and begins.”

Ru and Gio stared each other off, but neither said anything else. One of the girls giggled. All I could do was watch the intensity and hold my breath. Ru was being overprotective, and I understood why, but he needed to behave. While the industry was full of stars having their way with the women that worked with them, Gio had given him no reason to go so hard.

“Dinner is awesome,” I said.

They continued to watch each other as if it were a staring contest and the one who looked away would be the loser.

As a last resort, I placed my hand on Gio. “Did you hear me?”

He turned my way and curved his lips into a smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t. What did you say?”

“Dinner is awesome. Thanks so much.”

“You’re welcome.” He gazed down at my hand on his.

Chucky added, “Yes. Thank you so much for inviting my family. This will be a night that we’ll always remember.”

“Yes,” his wife and daughters agreed.

Conversation continued at the table again. Ru gave up on the stare off and shoveled food into his mouth as if that were all he could do.

I moved my hand.

Gio stopped my movement and gripped it, wrapping my fingers in warmth. I took a deep breath, telling myself firmly that I wouldn’t let Gio get to me.

Too late. He’s already gotten next to you.

Raw, primitive heat coursed through our hands as they remained there in that hold. With just our hands touching, my heart pounded, my blood raced. Heat settled between my legs, making my thighs shiver. I found my hand folded gently in the warmth of his as he looked deep within my eyes.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

I let go of his hold to gain some semblance of control, forcing myself to grab my glass of wine instead. Gio’s staff came next, picking up our empty dishes and asking each of us if we wanted coffee with our dessert.

As we waited for dessert, I barely heard Gio telling the others a story about his mother catching him eating up all the ice cream late at night. All I could think about was that moment of our hands touching.

Chapter 12

Giovanni

Music is

the universal language of mankind.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Dessert came out next. I had no idea what Simone would like, so I’d nicely asked Judy to prepare most holiday treats. Everything sat at the center of the table—gingerbread cookies and pumpkin pie, lavishly decorated cakes, and warm bread pudding to make anyone drool. So many sweet fragrances rose in the air.

“Chucky,” I eyed the man, “please, make sure you take all of this when you leave. If this is here, I’ll need a crew of five men to roll me onto the stage.”

“I sure will.” Chucky grinned. “That’s right. We’ll take one for the team, buddy. We can’t have People’s Sexiest Man Alive become the fattest man alive.”

We all laughed.

“I wasn’t their sexiest man, I was one of the honorary mentions in the magazine.”

“Well, according to my daughters, you are the sexiest man alive,” Chucky said. “Thankfully, those good looks haven’t gotten to my sweet wife or we’d have a problem.”

His wife blushed. “Chucky.”

I raised my hands in mock hurt. “No problem, Janice. I’m okay to being immune to some women.”

“Oh, don’t follow Chucky with his craziness.” Janice shook her head and then kissed her husband on his cheek.

Their daughters rolled their eyes as if completely disgusted by the public display of affection. However, I loved it. Was outright jealous, if I could’ve admitted it to myself. I dreamed about a love like that long ago, one where a woman loved me for me and not because of my fame, music, and awards. She needed me because my love brought her life just like hers would do for me.

But the industry—the business—those people didn’t exist there. Everyone wanted something. Everyone had their hands out. Everyone hung around because it was the place to be. When Jason died, all the phone calls stopped from our friends. Too much bad press had come from the overdose. No one wanted to be associated with me, not that I cared as I’d rushed off to the mountains.

However, I did find the silence odd after several months. Out of all the women I’d fucked, dated, strolled around with on and off camera, none of them had checked on me. None had sent a card or emailed my private account. No one wondered if I’d handled Jason’s death well. They all hung out with the next big band or the up and coming actor.