Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Francesca had finished her book, but her eyes didn’t feel the slightest bit heavy. She hadn’t taken in many of the words she’d been trying to concentrate on, so maybe she should start over and reread the last four chapters. Normally, she was ready for sleep after a chapter, two at the most.
A look at her watch made her suppress a sigh. One a.m.
She’d only ever shared a room with her cousin Siena before, and that had been years ago, two nights over Christmas.
She remembered how she’d marvelled at Siena’s breathing while she slept; the first time Francesca had ever heard the sound of another sleeping.
Her father snoring in front of the television didn’t count.
She’d bet that Gino didn’t snore. She would also bet that he was still awake, too.
She hadn’t heard a sound from him since he’d turned out his light.
Not a sound or movement, but she’d been far more aware of his presence than the words of the book she’d been enjoying.
In truth, the words of the last four chapters had swum before her eyes.
She didn’t know why, but her intention to torment him throughout the night had vanished when he’d turned his light out.
Her lamp gave a soft glow that was perfect for reading but barely illuminated any other part of the room.
She could see Gino’s shape but couldn’t see him.
She was aware armed men were patrolling the apartment, inside and outside, but they seemed very far away.
It was just her and Gino. Francesca, alone with a man at night.
She supposed she should be terrified; imagined that any other woman in a hostage-type situation would be much too frightened to sleep.
“I can’t sleep,” she said, cutting through the night’s silence in a voice just above a whisper.
“Turn off your light and close your eyes.”
She smiled. So he was awake. She’d known it. “Are your eyes closed?”
“Yes.”
“They why aren’t you asleep?”
“Because someone has been rustling the pages of her book for hours.”
“You should have said.”
“It was better than having to deal with you talking, now turn your light off and go to sleep.”
“If you run nightclubs, that must mean you’re a night owl. When was the last time you were in bed before midnight?”
“Go to sleep, Miss Marino.”
Still smiling, she stretched her arm behind her and groped around until she found the lamp’s switch and extinguished the light.
Rolling onto her side, she gazed through the darkness at the huge bed facing her. Without the glow of her lamp, she could no longer see Gino’s shape.
“I’ve never had a sleepover with a man before,” she said.
“This isn’t a sleepover.”
“Not a traditional sleepover, I’ll grant you that.
” Not that Francesca had enjoyed a traditional sleepover before.
In the years when her school friends were constantly in and out of each other’s homes and treated by the other parents as part of the furniture, Francesca had only been allowed in her friends’ homes for special occasions.
Sleepovers had been out of the question.
“I bet I’m the first woman who’s slept in this room but not slept in your bed. ”
She heard his exasperated sigh.
“Have you had a lot of women? You strike me as the type.”
“Do I have to gag you?”
“Have I hit a nerve?”
“You’ve hit all my nerves.”
“Poor you. So, have you had a lot of women? It only seems fair for you to share that, seeing as you know about my vestal virgin state.”
“My private life is none of your business.”
“Whereas you’ve made the whole of my private life your business.”
“For business purposes.”
“That makes it okay then, does it?”
He didn’t answer.
“What is it you’re asking from my cousin that’s made you go this far?” she asked.
Her eyes now adjusted to the dark, she watched Gino roll onto his back and lift his head.
“Let’s make another deal, Miss Marino,” he said gruffly.
“If you can go the rest of the night without speaking or annoying me in any way, I will give you a one-hour window tomorrow to ask any question you wish.”
“But will you answer them?”
His sigh was heavy. “Yes.”
“Make it a two-hour window, and you have yourself a deal.”
“One hour.”
“One hundred green bottles, hanging on the wall…” she sang.
“Okay, two hours.” The exasperation in his voice was incredible.
“Then we have a deal. Good night, Mr Vicario.”
He lay his head back down. A long moment later, he turned onto his side and let out a long breath.
The filtered light Gino woke to told him it had to be mid-morning. Turning over, he was lifting his head to check his enormously irritating hostage hadn’t pulled a Houdini through the night when a soft, “Good morning,” carried through the room.
She was still in her bed, on her side, facing him. She was reading. The duvet had been tugged down to her waist. Smiling, she closed the book and stretched. Her breasts stretched with the motion. “Sleep well?”
God damn it, with her dark chestnut hair all tousled and her eyes all sleepy, she looked as sexy as hell, and damn it to hell, his body responded accordingly.
As if he hadn’t spent half the night trying to rid himself of the image of her bent over, removing the jug from the fridge in the sideboard, that had etched itself in his retinas.
Rolling back on his side so his arousal wasn’t obvious through the bedding, he reached for his phone and muttered, “Feel free to go first in the bathroom.”
“I slept well too, thank you for asking.”
He glared at her.
“If I’m to use the bathroom first, I’ll need my clothes to change into. You said they’d be cleaned?”
“They’ll have been left on the table outside the bedroom door.”
“What, the door you kept locked all night? By the way, I meant to mention it last night, but that’s a real fire risk.”
“Are you always this awake in the morning?” Gino usually needed three coffees to feel human.
“Not normally, but then I don’t normally wake up in a strange man’s bedroom with my kidnapper sleeping only feet away from me.” She pushed her legs out of the duvet and sat up, giving him another unwelcome reminder that she was naked beneath his t-shirt.
Pyjamas, he decided grimly. He would buy her pyjamas. Ugly pyjamas.
“Have your shower, and I’ll get your clothes for you.”
“Can’t I take them in with me?”
“I don’t work my timetable to suit you.”
“Ooo, someone’s a grouch in the morning. Would you like me to make you a coffee? That might cheer you up.”
As the coffee machine he kept in his bedroom was on the same sideboard she’d bent over at, he could think of nothing worse. “I can make my own coffee.”
Francesca got to her feet, but instead of heading to the bathroom, she padded over to the sideboard and rummaged through the coffee pods.
Thanking God that all the coffee-making stuff was placed at surface level and required no bending over, Gino scrolled through his messages and did his utmost to tune out the killer body only feet away from him.
His utmost was nowhere near good enough, and his temper came within a breath of snapping when she took her cup of coffee to her bed and sat back down.
“I thought you were going for a shower.”
His tousle-haired, sleepy-eyed beauty took a sip of her coffee and smiled. “I’ll drink my coffee first and wait for you to get my clothes.”
Fuck it. If she wanted to play games, then let her. Screw trying to spare her blushes. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said, throwing his bedding off. “I’ll go first.”
Fully aware his erection was sticking out like a maypole, he strolled past her and shut himself in the bathroom.
When the handle of the bathroom door turned, Francesca’s heart went into hyperdrive, and when Gino emerged wearing only a towel around his waist, it wasn’t only her cheeks that flushed.
Since he’d walked past her with his thing sticking out at a right angle, there had been a hot pulse beating hard between her legs.
She had not been in any way prepared to see that. Even if she bleached her eyes, she’d never be able to rid herself of the image, and she hadn’t even seen anything! He’d been fully covered, from neck to ankle, but his arousal had been unmistakable.
While she’d sat frozen on her bed with the muffled sound of the shower running as background noise, her mind had raced through all the references to men waking with erections in her books.
From what she’d read, it was a common thing.
Normal. Natural. In no way did Gino walking past her with a giant erection mean anything personal towards her.
After all, he’d tried to get rid of her, tried to avoid her having to see it.
She’d refused to play ball – she was his hostage, so why would she?
– and in his exasperation, he’d decided not to bother shielding her.
He wasn’t covered from neck to ankle now, and though she’d already determined to act like she hadn’t seen anything earlier, to act in exactly the same infuriating manner that was working so wonderfully in tormenting him, her stare dipped below his waistline before she could stop herself.
One quick glance was enough to see he was now erection-free, but that one quick glance was also enough for her to get an eyeful of the outline of his nonerect manhood, and she could do absolutely nothing to stop her cheeks catching fire.
Not just her cheeks. All of her. The pulse beating between her legs swirled into a flame.
If spontaneous human combustion really were a thing, then she had no doubt at all that it was caused by Gino Vicario wearing nothing but a towel clearly showing the outline of his cock. Even the local nuns would have to fan themselves if he were to walk past them like this.
Painfully aware he could see the colour saturating her cheeks, she did the only thing she could do in this situation and made a jest of it. “Wow, Mr Vicario, if I’d known you were hiding that body under your clothes, I’d have fought harder to share your bed.”