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16:58, 22 July 2025

Giovanna's POV | December 23rd, 1:27 AMBaldwin Hills Estate – Los Angeles

The house had emptied out hours ago, but Gio remained in the dim kitchen, leaning against the marble island with a short glass of Hennessy XO in one hand and her other scrolling through her iPhone.

She rarely checked her own Instagram feed. She had a media girl in Miami who curated what the world saw of her—hints of luxury, coded captions, enough of a presence to stay mysterious but never obvious. But tonight, she wasn't browsing for her.

She was searching Angel Reese.

Again.

The lighting from her screen cast sharp shadows across her jawline as she pulled up Angel's profile: @angelreese5. Five million followers. Verified. Highlights with titles like 'Game Day Drip' and 'My Dawgs'.

Every photo? Flawless. But that wasn't what had Gio leaning on the counter, jaw clenched slightly and brows furrowed.

It was the gaps.The restraint.The parts Angel didn't show.

Most women who looked like her used their bodies like billboards—every post a thirst trap, every story curated to be chosen. But Angel?

She knew she was desired.

And still didn't beg for attention.

That, in Gio's world, was dangerous.

That kind of self-control made her curious.

⸻

Karrah padded barefoot into the kitchen, satin bonnet sliding halfway off her head. "You still up?"

Gio didn't glance up. "Yeah."

"Lemme guess. Work or that hooper girl?"

Gio exhaled a quiet laugh. "You clocked that, huh?"

"Girl, you stared at her like she was holding the cure to cancer. Which, knowing you, made her sexier."

Gio took another sip of her drink. "She's... different."

Karrah raised a brow. "Different like 'I wanna hit that' or different like 'I might end up cuffing'?"

Gio finally looked at her sister. "Don't be annoying."

Karrah grinned. "You doing research?"

"I'm not pressed," Gio muttered, even though the search bar on her phone had been filled with:angel reese dating angel reese sexualityangel reese interviews

"Not pressed, but invested," Karrah teased.

Gio's jaw twitched, her mind flickering back to the way Angel had looked at her—not flirtatious, but alert. Like a wolf staring down another predator. Not scared, not inviting. Just... watching.

She respected that. Hell, she liked it.

Most women either threw themselves at Gio or ran from her. Very few held her gaze like they didn't owe her a damn thing.

Angel did.

⸻

2:42 AM — Gio's Office

The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city lights, but Gio wasn't paying attention. She sat at her black oak desk, blazer thrown over the back of her leather chair, gun holstered against her hip as always.

Brooklyn stood across from her, fresh from her night run of operations, a manila folder in hand.

"You sure you wanna run her?" BK asked, dropping it onto the desk. "She's not even involved in this life."

Gio flipped the folder open, already reading. "I'm not pulling her in. I just want to know what I'm walking into."

BK sighed. "Ion think she likes women twin,"

"I think she doesn't know what she likes yet."

"And you're gonna be the one to show her?"

"I'm not gonna force anything." Gio's tone was cool. But her eyes, as they moved over Angel's background—birthplace, college stats, known associates—were focused. "But if she's anything like I think she is... she'll be curious."

"You sound like you already made up your mind."

"I did," Gio said simply, closing the folder. "I want her."

BK crossed her arms. "That's risky."

"Everything worth having is."

⸻

Christmas Eve — Private Gym, Downtown LA

Gio moved in silence, the rhythmic sound of her fists pounding into the heavy bag echoing off concrete walls. This was her sacred space. No assistants. No soldiers. Just her and the gloves.

She jabbed. Pivoted. Crossed.

But her head wasn't clear.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Angel. Not in the fitted Dior or the diamond chain, but how she looked at that damn dinner—shoulders squared, lips parted like she was fighting back a thought, that one dimple showing when she finally smirked back.

Gio grunted and threw a harder combo.

This wasn't about conquest. She had women for that. Models. Bottles. L.A. dimes with BBLs and bad nose jobs.

No, this was about interest.And interest, for someone like her, was rare.

She didn't fall for pretty.

She fell for presence.

And Angel had that in spades.

⸻Gio sat on the edge of her bed, towel draped around her neck, fresh from the gym. Her phone buzzed in her hand—an encrypted app pinging once.

BK.

"Flight lands at Midway. Chicago. 12/27."

Gio smiled.

"Book my suite at The Langham. And tell Kea to bring Angel to dinner. No pressure."

She paused before typing one more thing.