Had she ever been an unwilling hostage, he wondered. She’d played him so well, right from the start. That very first bathroom break she’d insisted on, when they’d pulled over into that roadside restaurant. She could have sought help in there, and yet he’d trusted his gut that she wouldn’t. Knowing Francesca, she would have discarded the idea for fear of the situation turning into a blood bath, but even so, apart from when he’d firstsnatched her off the street, she’d never been afraid ofhim. The only time he’d sensed fear had beenforhim. Never of him.
The dressing room door opened, and she appeared at the threshold.
At the first sight of her, his heart lodged in his throat.
She was wearing a black dress. The straps hooked behind her neck like a halter neck, the material skimming either side of her breasts to a band, giving the illusion of showing everything while showing nothing, the skirt flaring to the knee. On her feet, high ankle boots with diamond studs. His gaze drifted back up. She’d styled her dark chestnut hair in a loose side parting, the length a shimmering tumble over her bare shoulders. Her only makeup was some mascara and a red lipstick he remembered seeing in her bag when he’d taken her phone from it. There was a tint of colour on her pretty, rounded cheeks he thought might have been blended-in lipstick.
“Well?” she asked shyly. “Will I fit in at your club, or is this too much? Or too little?”
He had a sudden vision of handing her a jewellery box and removing a diamond necklace and placing it around her slender throat, lifting her hair to place a kiss on the nape of her neck…
He blinked the image away and breathed sharply. The only woman he’d bought jewellery for was his mother. “You look incredible.”
The little line low on her forehead appeared. “You’re sure? I know it must sound silly considering the circumstances, but I hate feeling out of place, and I’ve never been to a nightclub before, so…”
His hands were on her waist, and his mouth fastened to hers before she could say another word.
“Trust me, Chicca,” he said hoarsely when he broke the kiss. “If you see people looking at you tonight, it will only be because of how beautiful you are.”
Her cheeks darkened with pleasure. “Really?”
“Really.” He kissed her again. “Now, are you ready to play pissed-off hostage one more time?” Just in case there were any Esposito spies in his club that night, Gino would be carrying two guns, not because he thought he would have to use them but because it was the sort of detail that would be reported back to them.
One hour. That’s all he would allow. Make an appearance, keep his staff on their toes, give Francesca a tour that would let her see who he really was, and then go.
She needed to know the truth of him before they said goodbye.
“Sure.” She broke into a smile. “Although I don’t know how convincing we’ll be, seeing as you’ve got lipstick around your mouth.” Eyes suddenly gleaming, she put her mouth to his ear, her hands moving to the waist of his trousers. Unbuttoning him, she whispered, “Let me see if I can get it on a different part of your anatomy…”
He closed his eyes briefly, his loins tightening, and covered her hand to stop her going any further.
The line on her forehead appeared, confusion ringing from her eyes.
“Later,” he said gently, knowing there would very likely not be a later. His conscience had finally found a line it wouldn’t cross, and letting Francesca pleasure him with her mouth when he was about to put in motion what was needed for her to leave her captivity with only hate in her heart for him was that line. “We need to go.”
Gino’s club was every bit as darkly glamorous as Francesca had imagined. Entering it, she felt like Cinderella at the ball. Except this ball was a cocktail of some of the most dangerous and powerful people in the city. Maybe in Europe.
She was penned in, Gino on one side of her, his hand possessively on her lower back, one of his guards on the other, another guard behind her. Not smiling did not come naturally to Francesca, but as Gino had reminded her before they’d got out of the car – they’d driven in a cavalcade there – she needed to look neither happy nor excited to be there. She’d imagined it would take hard work, but every minute spent on the drive over had been a reminder that the clock was ticking for them to part, and as excited as she was to visit his club, regret was already filling her that she had to share with others some of her last precious hours with him.
Oh well, she reminded herself stoically. He’d said they would only spend an hour there. When they got back to his apartment, they would be alone again. She would just have to find a way of ripping from her mind that the hours they spent alone together that night would be their last.
Although the weight in her heart was getting heavier by the minute, Francesca hadn’t expected to find looking neither happy nor excited coming very naturally within two minutes of entering the club. She’d been swept through the reception and past the glamorous men and women who greeted the guests, whisked through the wide corridor most of the private business rooms came off, and had climbed the wide stairs to the first floor, finding herself in the glitziest room she’d ever seen. Before she could take in all its decadent beauty, a gorgeous blonde woman wearing a figure-hugging sparkling dress snaked over to Gino and huskily purred, “Hello, stranger,” before placing a kiss full on his mouth.
Startled at the proprietorial nature of the woman’s greeting, Francesca saw him return the lascivious look. “Hello, beautiful,” he murmured back to her. “Please excuse me, but business calls.”
“Call me later?”
“Busy later.” He winked. “Maybe over the weekend.” Not breaking his stride, he carried on, leading Francesca past a huge central bar crowded with people dressed to the nines. Most held champagne flutes in their hands.
A man in a business suit that stuck out for looking like a business suit hurried over to them. “Gino! I didn’t know we were expecting you tonight.”
“A flying visit,” Gino assured him. “Everything under control?”
“All good.” The man Francesca assumed was the club’s manager leaned in and whispered something into Gino’s ear, which was received with a nod and a pat on the back, before they were off again, circulating the room, Gino shaking hands, kissing cheeks and whispering in the particularly beautiful women’s ears words that made them giggle coquettishly. When they passed a group of dazzlingly glamorous women dining in a booth, he made an exaggerated stop.
“Ladies, great to have you here,” he said with a smile Francesca had a very sudden and very real urge to punch off his face. “I trust you’re being looked after?”
One of the women, a sultry redhead, looked him up and down with decidedly interested eyes. “You’re Gino?”
