“There’s personal, and then there’s personal.”
“That’s the job, Francesca. I own nightclubs frequented by the rich and powerful. Power and wealth are natural aphrodisiacs, and my clubs allow members and their guests to indulge in all the hedonism they could wish for.”
“And all the hedonismyoucould wish for.”
There was still no emotion or apology on his face or in his tone. “I made that explicitly clear to you before we became lovers.”
“And made sure to reinforce it tonight. You might not have taken me there to humiliate me, but you took me there for a reason, and if it wasn’t to humiliate me, then what was it? Why such deliberate cruelty?”
“There was no deliberate cruelty. I was showing you the reality of me and the reality of my life.”
“Butwhy? In a few hours, we’re never going to see each other again.”
For the first time, she caught the pulse of something in his eyes. “You asked me to marry you, Chicca. I needed you to see for yourself what my life is like so you would know I’m the last man you should ever offer yourself for marriage to.”
She shook her head. “Don’t give me that crap. You’d already turned me down. And I wasn’t offering myself to you; I was offering you a way to live beyond the next few weeks, and you repaid me by letting me think you were doing something for me when all you were doing was something for you.”
“I needed you to see the truth of me.”
“No, you didn’t!” She stopped herself from screaming in his face by the skin of her teeth. What little dignity she had left would not let her give him the satisfaction. “For whatever twisted reason, you wanted to make me hate you;that’swhat you wanted. There was no need for you to flirt and allow those women to grope you. You’re perfectly capable of keeping afriendly distance. And there was absolutely no need for you to arrange future hook-ups in front of me. That was deliberately cruel. We could have spent our last hours together just being together, but you chose instead to make me hate you. It was all deliberate, so screw your pathetic distortions of the truth and screw you. You wanted me to hate you? You’ve succeeded.”
Snatching her pyjamas off the pillow of the single bed she hadn’t slept in for four nights, Francesca would have stormed straight into the bathroom if Gino hadn’t caught her wrist.
Dark eyes blazing, he quietly said, “You should hate me, Chicca. This is who I am. I’m a man with no scruples and no conscience. Despite giving my word, I took your virginity and have had you in my bed ever since, and tomorrow night, someone else will be in it. Don’t ever forget that. I’m not worth even a portion of your heart.”
“Then you’d better pray that I’m better at keeping my word than you are,” she hissed, bringing her face right to his. “Or you can expect a bullet in your head before you manage to replace me in your bed, and I can promise you now, my heart won’t feel a thing. Now take your hand off me.”
His jaw as tight as she had ever seen it, he released his fingers from her wrist.
She gave him one last look filled with all the contempt she could muster, then locked herself in the bathroom.
Gino sank onto his bed and clasped his head. Dragging his short nails through his cropped hair, he breathed deeply.
He’d done the right thing. He knew that. Better that she hate him than have feelings that could linger. Emotions had no place in his world. Those who allowed them were fools. Look at Tommaso Esposito, Lorenzo’s second son. He’d recently married and was obviously besotted with his bride, and now thatbride would have a target on her for the rest of her life, an easy means of retribution or blackmail or any number of malevolent things from the people who littered their world. At least Rico Esposito, Lorenzo’s youngest son and Mattia’s youngest brother, had had the sense to leave their world on falling in love, but even he would spend the rest of his life living as both a husband and a bodyguard to his wife… And what was he even thinking any of this for? It wasn’t like he’d fallen in love with Francesca. Yes, he’d developed feelings for her, but as he’d already assured himself, those feelings would fade quickly. He hadn’t been lying about his intention to replace her in his bed tomorrow night. That’s who he was. How he lived.
Francesca deserved better than him or Elio Ranieri or any single member of their damned world, and when she stalked out of the bathroom in those sexy pyjamas, her beautiful face a set mask of disdain, and swept past him to climb into the single bed without a glance at him, the twisting of his heart was nothing but regret that he didn’t get to enjoy one last night of spectacular sex with her.
Francesca slept in fits and spurts. Twice she had to pull herself out of the same nightmare from the night before, the nightmare that had stupidly made her suggest marriage. The only thing she could be grateful for was that she hadn’t been so deep in sleep that she’d been unable to bring herself out of them.
When the sun came up, she got out of bed. She didn’t look at Gino. She was quite certain he was awake too. She wouldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t think about him. Wouldn’t acknowledge him in any way.
In a few hours, this would all be over.
From the dressing room, she removed her dress, shoes and underwear, and carried them to the bathroom. Time for her last shower. Then it would be time for her last breakfast.
She could only hope she didn’t have to suffer a last lunch with him, too.
After what had to constitute the worst sleep of his life, Gino gave up trying. This was the day he became a partner in the Esposito Group and forced himself into what Francesca called their shadowed world. He needed to be sharp, and while Francesca used the bathroom, he got on his phone and checked all the overnight messages.
No overnight hiccups. That was one mercy. Everything was proceeding exactly as he’d envisaged and planned.
The door handle of the bathroom turned. He pulled in a breath and braced himself.
The badly dressed nun he’d snatched off the street a week ago emerged. Same drab, ugly black dress. Same clumpy shoes. Same child-like white ankle socks. The only difference was her eyes. The badly dressed nun’s fear had quickly turned to a glee she’d sustained practically every hour under his roof. The light brown, almost translucent eyes that fixed on him now were cold. “Everything proceeding as it should?”
He had to clear his throat to speak. “Yes.”
Her smile was as cold as her eyes. “Good. I’m ready to go as soon as you say.”
