“It was better than having to deal with you talking, now turn your light off and go to sleep.”
“If you run nightclubs, that must mean you’re a night owl. When was the last time you were in bed before midnight?”
“Go to sleep, Miss Marino.”
Still smiling, she stretched her arm behind her and groped around until she found the lamp’s switch and extinguished the light.
Rolling onto her side, she gazed through the darkness at the huge bed facing her. Without the glow of her lamp, she could no longer see Gino’s shape.
“I’ve never had a sleepover with a man before,” she said.
“This isn’t a sleepover.”
“Not a traditional sleepover, I’ll grant you that.” Not that Francesca had enjoyed a traditional sleepover before. In the years when her school friends were constantly in and out ofeach other’s homes and treated by the other parents as part of the furniture, Francesca had only been allowed in her friends’ homes for special occasions. Sleepovers had been out of the question. “I bet I’m the first woman who’s slept in this room but not slept in your bed.”
She heard his exasperated sigh.
“Have you had a lot of women? You strike me as the type.”
“Do I have to gag you?”
“Have I hit a nerve?”
“You’ve hit all my nerves.”
“Poor you. So,haveyou had a lot of women? It only seems fair for you to share that, seeing as you know about my vestal virgin state.”
“My private life is none of your business.”
“Whereas you’ve made the whole of my private life your business.”
“For business purposes.”
“That makes it okay then, does it?”
He didn’t answer.
“What is it you’re asking from my cousin that’s made you go this far?” she asked.
Her eyes now adjusted to the dark, she watched Gino roll onto his back and lift his head. “Let’s make another deal, Miss Marino,” he said gruffly. “If you can go the rest of the night without speaking or annoying me in any way, I will give you a one-hour window tomorrow to ask any question you wish.”
“But will you answer them?”
His sigh was heavy. “Yes.”
“Make it a two-hour window, and you have yourself a deal.”
“One hour.”
“One hundred green bottles, hanging on the wall…” she sang.
“Okay, two hours.” The exasperation in his voice was incredible.
“Then we have a deal. Good night, Mr Vicario.”
He lay his head back down. A long moment later, he turned onto his side and let out a long breath.
The filtered light Gino woke to told him it had to be mid-morning. Turning over, he was lifting his head to check his enormously irritating hostage hadn’t pulled a Houdini through the night when a soft, “Good morning,” carried through the room.
