Chapter Nine #2
So often he’d invited her to tell him about herself but she’d changed the subject, not wanting to discuss her family and her current, troubling situation.
But increasingly she felt guilty about that, as if she were lying to him by omission.
He’d trusted her so much, bringing her here and letting her set the ground rules of their relationship.
Yet she’d repaid him by brushing off his attempts to understand her life better.
Surely the fact he wants to know more about your life is significant. He’s interested in more than sex.
Maybe he wanted more from this relationship too. His interest, his tenderness were real and there in every generous gesture, every caress.
She’d never felt so special.
There was sexual excitement and fulfilment but more too. Understanding and support. Laughter and a listening ear. Trust and companionship. Tenderness and consideration.
She wasn’t ready to give it up.
All the more reason to talk with him properly today.
To be open, tell him about her life and plans and see if there was a chance their relationship might progress.
She kept fantasising about him in her life long-term.
About a relationship that grew and strengthened.
About feelings stronger than lust and liking.
She’d shied from putting a name to what she felt but it grew too big to ignore.
She turned and went to grab her swimsuit and a beach towel. She needed to be with Gio.
Inside, she heard a buzzing and followed it to the security console. A camera at the gate showed a man holding a package. ‘Delivery for—’
‘Wait there. I’ll come out.’
She didn’t want to let in a stranger. It was possible her brother had located her in Rome. Could he have found her here?
Her heart pounded as she approached the gates. She didn’t recognise the courier.
‘I’ll need a signature,’ the stranger said as he held a mobile device through the gate’s bars.
Stella scrawled a deliberately unreadable signature and a second later he pushed a large, thick envelope between the bars of the gate. It caught and held but she tugged it free.
Instantly the courier turned away, hurrying to his vehicle, more interested in his tight schedule than her.
A shaky sigh escaped. Her family couldn’t have found her here. Even if they had, what could they do? Once her brothers’ bruising disapproval and her father’s domineering ways might have weighed heavily. But this time with Gio had reinforced her decision to make a stand against their pressure.
She was halfway back to the house when she glanced down to see the envelope had torn when pushed through the gate.
Her steps faltered.
Dimly she heard a motor start, the courier leaving. She blinked and spun around, about to call him back and tell him he’d delivered his package to the wrong place.
Except this was no mistake.
She’d made the mistake.
It was clear and unmistakable.
Express to Signor Giancarlo Valenti
Villa Rosa
There on the gate was a discreet plaque: Villa Rosa. If the address weren’t enough, there was that other word, visible where the envelope had ripped open.
Barbieri.
The world stopped. Stella held her breath, knowing everything was about to change. Her rosy sense of well-being and her eager, half-formed hopes centred on the man who’d brought her here. The one man she’d trusted.
Suddenly time sped up again. Her breath hissed and the bulky envelope hit the ground, released from numb fingers.
Stella didn’t move but stared at the Manila envelope, transfixed as if it were a deadly viper.
Giancarlo Valenti.
The man her father hated. Because Valenti hotels challenged his commercial interests, their prestige and profits often outstripping his own.
But his hatred wasn’t just about business.
It was deeper and utterly personal. If the Valenti name was mentioned the change in Alfredo was frightening.
Her brothers had whispered about a vendetta older than she was.
Giancarlo. Gio.
It can’t be. It’s impossible.
Yet he’d been staying at Valenti’s flagship hotel and knew several of the staff, including the manager, very well.
The fine hairs at her nape prickled and stood on end.
Why hadn’t she thought before about what Gio was short for? She and her stupid desire not to give away too much about herself. She should have been wondering about him.
If she’d asked would he have told her the truth?
Of course not. He’d manipulated her, so skilfully she’d felt as if she’d made all the choices, yet all the time he’d played her like a fish on a hook, reeling her in. And it hadn’t taken long!
Stella gasped as pain knifed her chest.
She wanted to deny it, pretend this was some innocent coincidence. But she was done with self-delusion. Grabbing the envelope, she stumbled inside.
She didn’t consciously head to the kitchen but suddenly she was there, in the bright, cheerful room where she and Gio had cooked together. Where yesterday they’d made fiercely passionate and exquisitely satisfying love.
He’d lifted her up onto the island bench, pulling her to the very edge so he could feast on her, driving her to mindless ecstasy with his mouth and hands. Then, before her shudders had died away, he’d joined her and taken them both to the fiery pinnacle again.
But it hadn’t been making love, not for him. It was simply sex. Worse, sex as a tool, because Giancarlo Valenti, Gio, was using her.
She didn’t know why but she was determined to find out. This couldn’t be a coincidence.
Ripping the envelope, she let the contents slide onto the countertop. The rusty tang of blood filled her mouth and she realised she’d bitten down hard on her lip.
There was her image, staring up at her. And another, and another. Multiple photos of her, sometimes with her family and a couple from the company website.
Stella planted her hand on the counter, bracing herself, fearing she’d lose her breakfast.
Steeling herself, she spread the contents. There were recent photos of her father, brothers and sisters-in-law. Even one of her friend Ginevra.
There were financial reports on Barbieri Holdings. An analysis of property her father had scoped for possible acquisition. Details of her brothers’ debts, even bigger than she’d realised.
And a report on her. Everything from the date and place of her birth to the school she’d attended and the date of her mother’s death.
Her grip on the countertop tightened, breath sawing from her lungs as she skim-read. Her move to Italy. Her interests. Friends. Work history. The details of her flight to Rome last week. A list of men she’d dated in the last few years. Even some events they’d attended.
Stella had heard people talk about feeling violated after a robbery, but had never truly appreciated how that felt.
It was indescribable. These investigators had dug into her life, unearthing not just publicly available information but things she hadn’t realised anyone could know about.
Then they laid it bare for Gio’s perusal.
Because she was Alfredo Barbieri’s daughter.
It didn’t matter that she had nothing to hide. This was her private life and he’d paid someone to desecrate it.
That was clear from the cover letter, explaining that the investigators had done as thorough a job as possible in the timeframe he’d allowed. A more comprehensive dossier could be compiled with extra time.
With each word she read Stella felt crackling ice spread until it felt as if she’d frozen solid. Except for the exquisite pain deep in her chest.
Gio, the man she’d trusted, who’d come to mean so much, had spied on her, trying to unearth… What? Secrets? Weaknesses?
Her laughter was suspiciously like a sob. He knew her weaknesses. Kindness and the glint of laughter in grey eyes. Passion that made her wish for things she’d never dared hope for.
To think she’d rejected her father’s demand that she accept an arranged marriage because she wanted to hold out for love! She’d actually begun falling for Gio, letting her stupid heart control her head.
She didn’t think she’d trust a man again, or her own judgement of the opposite sex. For too long she’d been used and courted as a shortcut to her father’s wealth and power. Now she’d been used again, by his enemy.
With a single violent sweep of her arm she scattered the papers to the floor.
She wanted to destroy it all but the investigators could provide another copy. They’d probably already sent an electronic version.
Arms tight around her middle, she tried to think. Why had Gio done this? Befriending her, seducing her.
It was clear that everything she’d believed special between them was a lie. He was a lie. He’d played the perfect companion, stripping her defences until…
He couldn’t possibly know how she felt about him. Could he?
It shamed her to think of the fragile hopes she’d begun to nurture in such a short time. She’d congratulated herself on finding a friend, a lover who was everything she’d ever dreamed of. Their relationship had seemed so much more than carnal, so much more significant.
Yet all the time he’d been more deceitful, more conniving than any of the would-be lovers who’d tried to court her. He made them look like fumbling schoolboys.
As for him being interested in her—that was the biggest lie of all. He’d sensed her neediness and used it as a weapon.
And you gave it to him. It was your own na?veté that let him in.
She’d never forgive him for what he’d done. More importantly, she’d never forgive herself.
From this moment on she was done with emotional weakness, done with romantic fantasies. And absolutely done with men.
Eight minutes later, carrying the barest essentials, she opened the security gate and went to meet the car she’d ordered. She didn’t look back.