Chapter 8 #2
Tension lodges in my gut when I see it’s my father calling.
What the hell does he want? I’m unreasonably annoyed with him for ruining my cosy, secluded bliss with Juno today and I almost ignore it.
I stop myself at the last second from pressing the ‘reject call’ button, though, because I know from experience that my father doesn’t like to be ignored and won’t put up with it for long.
He’ll just call again in half an hour, then every half hour after that till I pick up.
‘Pronto,’ I say after clicking the ‘answer call’ button.
‘Sandro. I want you to go to a charity ball at the Hotel Magnifica Vista in Piazza della Signoria tonight. Take Juno with you and make sure the press get some good photos of the two of you together,’ my father says without ceremony.
‘I’ve had word from your brother’s future parents-in-law that they’re pleased with your relationship with her.
It shows you to be a more responsible character than they’d had you down as.
It’s good for both their and our public image if it looks as though the family playboy is finally settling down. ’
This would be fine if there was any chance of that happening, but the sinking feeling in my gut reminds me that Juno isn’t and probably will never be interested in settling down with a ‘playboy’ like me.
As she’s pointed out a number of times, she needs more intellectual stimulation than I can offer her.
Trying not to let my torment colour my voice, I say, ‘We can’t make it tonight. We have plans.’ No way do I want to waste one of the last nights I have with her at some tedious charity ball.
‘Then change them,’ my father barks. ‘I want you there.’ My stomach sinks even lower. I know what the likely outcome will be when he gets like this; it’s his way or the highway, which in real terms would mean excommunication from the rest of my family.
I try not to sigh with frustration, but the pause I leave clearly does the job anyway.
‘I hope we’re not going to fall out over this, Sandro,’ my father says in a dangerously low voice.
‘No. We’re not,’ I concede, running through the issues in my mind.
First, I’ll have to talk Juno into going – which could be pretty tricky, because it’s just the sort of thing I can imagine she’ll hate to go to – then I’ll have to find some way to persuade her to have her photo taken, which she’ll also hate and probably refuse to do.
Frustration and guilt swirl in my gut.
‘Good,’ my father says, clearly already sure of his victory. ‘There’s a tuxedo of mine in the closet of the spare room you can wear. Make sure you both look the part.’ Then he hangs up without even saying goodbye.
Wearily I drop the phone down onto the counter, then jump when I see movement in my peripheral vision.
‘Whoever that was, I get the impression they’re not in your good books right now,’ Juno says with a grin.
I try to smile back, but fail. I just can’t summon the energy for it. I feel drained and edgy now.
‘It was my father. He wants us to go to a charity gala to represent my family this evening.’
Instead of looking displeased, I’m surprised to see her smile again. ‘We can do that.’ Her brows pinch together as she studies my tense expression. ‘Unless you really don’t want to.’
I sigh and rub my hand over my face. ‘He didn’t exactly give me much choice.’
‘Then we’ll go,’ she says, her eyes glowing with a compassion I’ve come to love.
‘Are you sure? It’ll be really fucking boring and stuffy.’ I don’t want to mention that we’re expected to pose like stuffed mannequins for the camera at this point. I’ll tackle that little glitch later.
‘Sure I’m sure. I’d love to help you out.’ She moves closer to me, bringing with her the scent of sunshine on her skin. ‘After everything you’ve done for me, I think it’s about time I paid you back.’
‘Okay. If you really don’t mind.’ I lean down and kiss the top of her head, pushing away a surge of guilt about the things I’ve already taken from her that she doesn’t even know about. ‘Let’s get changed and get it over with.’
* * *
Juno
‘It’s a black-tie do, so we’ll have to get trussed up for it,’ Sandro says as I turn away to go and get ready for this impromptu night out.
‘Oh, God, I don’t have any clothes for that sort of party,’ I say, suddenly realising the folly of being so quick to agree to this.
But I don’t want to let Sandro down when he needs me.
Not after everything he’s done for me. And I want him to be happy.
Very much so. So much so, I’d rather not think too hard about it.
He frowns, then waves his hand towards the bedroom we’re not using. ‘Borrow one of Maria’s dresses.’
‘Really? She won’t mind?’
His expression is unconcerned. ‘Not at all. My father bought them all for her anyway.’
‘Okay, then.’ I nod assertively, as if there’s nothing at all weird about me wearing one of his father’s mistress’s dresses out on a date with him.
‘Would you do something for me?’ he asks as I go to turn away again.
‘Of course.’ As if I could deny him anything when he’s looking at me like that.
‘Wear your hair down tonight.’
I raise my hand to touch where I’ve caught it in a ponytail at the nape of my neck. ‘Okay. If you like.’
‘I do like,’ he says, strolling over and reaching behind my head to pull the band out so my hair falls freely around my shoulders. Leaning forward, he nuzzles into my neck and I hear him take a deep breath through his nose.
‘Are you sniffing me?’ I tease.
A laugh rumbles out of him. ‘Yes. I’m the big, bad wolf and I want to eat you all up.’
Heat builds inside me at his covetous tone, making my body ache for him, as it always does. How am I ever going to go back to my normal life without him being in it?
‘Hey… We’ll still be friends after this… won’t we?’ I whisper.
I feel him stiffen then draw away from me.
There’s something in his face that makes my stomach swoop, but not in a joyful way.
He looks wary suddenly. Have I gone too far?
Asked for too much? We’ve been living in a make-believe land for so many days, I’m not entirely sure what’s right and wrong any more.
‘Sure we’ll be friends after this,’ he says. But there’s something not quite right about the way he says it.
Before I can summon the courage to question him about it, he gives me a terse sort of smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and backs away. ‘I’ll leave you to choose your dress,’ he says.
And then he’s gone.
I tell myself I’m being overly sensitive. Why on earth would he suddenly be acting strangely about being friends after this? That would be ridiculous. Surely?
As I look through the rail of beautiful dresses with slightly shaky hands, I realise that Maria is a size smaller than me and that I’ll only just be able to squeeze into a small selection of the dresses and won’t be able to wear any underwear for fear of terrible visible panty line. I’ll just have to go without.
I smile to myself, wondering what Sandro would say. Knowing him, he’d probably love the idea of it.
It’s funny, but I would never even have considered doing something like that before I met him. His influence seems to have given me more confidence than I’d ever imagined possible.
Half an hour later I walk into the living room to find him waiting there for me, dressed in a beautifully cut tux and looking as stunning as ever. My breath catches in my throat and every nerve in my body gives a little wiggle of joy at the sight of him.
‘Jesus, you’re so fucking sexy,’ he growls, his eyes roving over my body, taking in the sleeveless, floor-length, gold lamé evening gown that flows over the curves of my body and forms a fishtail skirt at the bottom, making me look like a mermaid fresh from the sea.
The slit, which is cut to mid-thigh, opens to reveal a tantalising flash of leg as I walk towards him.
I’ve left my hair down, as requested, and it hangs down my back in soft waves.
And I feel it – sexy – I really do. For the first time in my life. And I realise that it’s not because I’ve had sex, but because I’ve finally started to feel comfortable in my own skin. To like and appreciate my body for all the wonderful things it can do and the ways it can make me feel.
He strides towards me, his eyes intent on mine. ‘Look what you’ve done to me.’
I gasp as he wraps his hand around my wrist and pulls me against him so I can feel the hardness I’ve magically conjured.
Desire twists through me, amplifying my nerve endings into tight strands of need.
I feel his heartbeat against my chest and breathe in the alluring fresh scent of him.
‘We should go,’ I say hurriedly, before I give in to my cravings and encourage him to strip off the dress I’ve only just managed to put on.
* * *
Sandro
I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s fucking mesmerising.
There are plenty of beautiful women in the grand ballroom of the hotel, but I’m totally uninterested in checking anyone else out.
They have absolutely no draw for me. It’s Juno I want to look at, to be with, no one else.
She’s cast a spell over me with her kindness and compassion, her intelligence and drive. Her purity of heart.
I notice a bank of photographers on the other side of the room from where we’re standing and slip my arm around Juno’s waist, guiding her away from them.
I don’t want those vultures wrecking her mood.
She seems so happy to be here. Every time I look at her, she has a wide, brilliant smile on her face, which makes me smile in return.
I wonder whether I’ve had anything to do with that. I hope so.
I suspect it’s more about what she’s discovered about herself recently, though – that’s she as beautiful and sexy as I’ve been telling her she is. I think she’s finally beginning to believe me.
A waiter glides by and I let go of her to reach for two glasses of wine, handing one of them to her.