As a result, when the intercom buzzed an hour after Siena left, Francesca knew exactly what to do. The problem was, she didn’t want to do it. Despite all her mental preparations, seeing Gino again had shaken her to her core, and her inner turmoil had only grown.
She should be getting over him by now. She’d taken his words to heart about going out there and getting the life she did want, and it had been exciting and thrilling, but the pain in her heart just wouldn’t shift.
The intercom buzzed again. She sighed.
Rising lethargically from her seat, she pressed the button on the wall, readying herself to get rid of whoever the visitor was…but then a video image of the visitor came up on the display. Itwas an image that made her heart wobble and her legs turn to jelly.
It took so long for her to press the button to speak into that he buzzed again. She swallowed hard before pressing it and whispering, “Siena’s not here.”
His voice was nearly as quiet. “I know. It’s you I’ve come to see.”
“What do you want?”
“Just to…” He sighed. “Will you let me in? I need to talk to you.”
“What about?”
“Something I would prefer to discuss in person and not through an intercom.”
She closed her eyes. After a long hesitation, she pressed the button that would set in motion all that was needed to let Gino reach the front door.
It gave her time to prepare herself. As much as she could. She couldn’t begin to guess what he wanted with her, but to get through it, she would ask herself what Siena would do and act accordingly. Siena didn’t take shit off anyone.
So intent was Francesca in preparing herself emotionally that she forgot to prepare herself physically, only remembering when she unlocked the front door in answer to his knock that she hadn’t run a brush through her hair since the morning and that the makeup Siena had used to try and hide the circles beneath her eyes had worn away. She could only be grateful that she was wearing half-decent clothes in the form of snug, stylish three-quarter-length jeans and a loose-fitting silver top. The first thing Siena had done when Francesca arrived in Naples was take her shopping. If she hadn’t been so sick of heart, she would have called it the best day of her life.
Her legs trembling, she could hardly meet his eyes, darting away from his stare as she stepped aside to let him in. Her legsshook even harder when he brushed past her and she found herself engulfed in the scent she’d grown to love so much. Breathing it in now made her lungs hurt. It made all of her hurt.
But she wouldn’t show it. Siena never would, and neither would she.
“Can I get you a drink?” she asked politely when they reached the living room.
“That would be good, thanks.” From the periphery of her vision, she saw him clock the book she’d been reading – trying to read – on the sofa. Saw the smile that played on his lips to see it.
Rubbing her arm, she went to the bar Siena kept fully stocked and poured him a neat bourbon. For herself, she opened a bottle of red wine. She’d hardly drunk any alcohol since he’d set her free. It reminded her too much of him. She supposed it could hardly remind her of him for the short time she would be with him.
Instead of handing his glass to him, she put it on the coffee table and then sat herself with her wine on one of the armchairs, resisting the urge to down the whole glass in one swallow. Siena would act with dignity, and so would she.
He sat close to her, on the sofa that would still be warm from where she’d been sitting only minutes ago.
“How long have you been living here?” he asked. His tone was casual, as if she were someone he knew only distantly, not someone he’d been intimate with. But then, for Gino, intimacy meant nothing. Francesca meant nothing.
She drew her knees up to her chest and strove to match his casual tone. “A couple of weeks.”
“You’re working for Siena?”
“As her assistant.”
“How are you finding it?”
“I’m loving it.”
“And loving living in a city?”
“Very much.”
“How did your parents take it?”
“Better than I expected.” Once they’d realised they had no choice in the matter, they’d come around. She supposed, too, that their agreement to her marrying Elio meant they knew any real objection would ring hollow. “They’re staying this weekend for the wedding.”
