He closed his eyes, took a visible deep breath, then called out, “Come in.”
It was one of his men carrying a thick package.
While Francesca pressed herself against the drinks sideboard and prayed for her legs to keep her upright, Gino took the package from him. She couldn’t even force her mouth to hurl abuse at the guard.
Gino had no such problem. His body language and voice perfectly normal, he said, “Tell Carmita she can clear our lunch away… Oh, and ask her to bring something to clean up glass. There has been an accident.”
The man nodded and bustled away.
Without looking back at her, Gino took the package to his desk. He was about to open it when his gaze suddenly landed back on her.
A rush of emotion like nothing she’d ever felt before swept through her.
Even with the distance now separating them, she could feel the intensity of his stare. “We can’t let it happen again, Chicca. It’s too dangerous. You know that, right?”
She swallowed hard and nodded. She did know. If her family heard so much as a whisper of intimacy between them…
He held her gaze for another long, lingering moment and then gave his attention back to the delivered package.
Chapter Twelve
Francesca didn’t thinkshe had ever spent as long picking at a meal as she did that night over dinner.
Instead of eating in the kitchen, they dined in the living room, but not together. They had shared only cursory conversation since that moment in his office. Gino ate off his lap on the sofa, watching a game of football. A Milanese team were playing.
As she had no interest in football, Francesca sat at the dining table in the corner – nothing as opulent as the one in the dining room – and pretended to read her book. Whenever the armed men patrolling the apartment poked their heads in to see how the game was going, she remembered to throw abuse at them like a good hostage should, but it was hard to act like a good little hostage when she couldn’t stop the longing for her kidnapper from sweeping through her in ever-increasing waves.
The armchair her kidnapper sat on was at an angle from her. If she looked in his direction, she could see his profile. Unlike when she’d been pretending to read in his office, she found it impossible to stop her gaze falling on him. It had been impossible since that moment when he’d stopped her from falling over. There was a flame deep in her pelvis. Every timetheir eyes connected, her heart wobbled and the flame flickered more brightly.
Gino had never had to concentrate so hard on a game of football. The tension in the room had grown so thick he could taste it.
It had been bad enough in his office when Francesca had been directly in his line of sight. Impossible to stop his eyes from darting to her. Here, in his living room, he’d deliberately chosen to sit with her in the periphery of his vision rather than have her right in his eye-line, and now his neck was stiff from the exertion it was taking not to turn his face to her. The few times he’d given in to it, her gaze had locked straight onto his before her cheeks had reddened and she’d hurriedly dropped it.
He was determined to see the rest of the game out without giving in to the need again, but theeffort…
Although she was just a shape in the corner of his eye, he was aware of every mouthful of food she ate, every sip of drink and every turn of a page of her book.
Images of their night together continued to haunt him. Taunt him. He just could not forget how it had felt when her fingers had loosened and she’d relaxed into his possession. Couldn’t think of the words to explain how it had felt in that moment.
One of his men came into the room and commented on the game. Gino answered automatically. On the rare occasion he was home to watch a game, he usually opened the beer and invited his men to join him. Their hostage situation meant he’d thought it foolhardy to do so that night. He needed his men to be sharp.
The problem was, he was losing his own sharpness. The teams on the screen were going into injury time. The game wasnearly over. Night had long since fallen. The time to retire to the bedroom was moving closer and closer. The beats of his heart were growing weightier and weightier with each passing minute.
The game ended. From the happy shouts of the guards, the Milanese team had won.
Gino made some calls. Francesca pretended to read more of her book.
How was it possible, she wondered as she turned a page of which not a single word had sunk in, to be so completely attuned to another person? To feel suchlonging? It would be fascinating if it weren’t so frightening, because it was a longing that would never have an outlet.
One night. That’s what they’d agreed. To let it be more would be nothing short of madness.
Knowing all this didn’t stop her heart from jumping when he cleared his throat.
It took all her nerve to look up at him.
The returning stare was unreadable. “We should get some sleep.”
She nodded and closed her book.
