Chapter 9 #3
He recognized the icy rage in Beatrice’s voice and knew he had to keep her calm. The last thing he needed was another shouting match. Silas would surely come running if he heard raised voices.
It took every ounce of control in him, however, because as soon as Beatrice spoke to him like this, he felt his own temper rising in this baiting, cold voice. She always knew just how to get him. Damn her for her perceptiveness. Damn her for knowing him so well.
“It is everything to me,” Giovanni answered lowly. “Which is why I cannot let you risk your entire future on a silly infatuation with a man who can never give you what you need.”
“How do you know what I need?” Beatrice didn’t look at him, but she also didn’t raise her voice. He could feel her anger in her shoulders; however, her whole body radiated with it.
“I’ve known our whole lives, Bea,” Giovanni said, trying not to let his voice catch in his throat. “You need to marry well. You need a man who can provide for you, not just a man who makes your heart beat faster. Believe me, I’ve been through this before with other ladies of the Ton.”
Though I have never felt for them what I felt for you.
It would do no good to tell Beatrice how special she was to him.
It would only give her hope. It would only give him hope.
He couldn’t stand that. Letting himself imagine for a second that there was a possible future for the two of them would be too much.
If he did, the bitterness of reality would overwhelm him.
“Am I so cliché?” Beatrice snapped, turning around to face him.
He knew mentioning other ladies would irk her.
Good. He needed her to be irked. He needed her to hate him.
He needed her to imagine he was a rake, through and through.
It was the only way to stop her from thinking of him.
His heart hurt to imagine it, but he persisted, trying to sound cold and aloof.
“The situations are,” he said, stepping away from her to tidy the desk. “Ladies who want some excitement, with someone who will not demand anything from them or tarnish their reputation, are not rare. But I shall never do that to you.”
“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” Beatrice answered bitterly, crossing her arms. “You are determined to see me one way. You speak for me without hearing a word I have said.”
He allowed himself to look up at her for a moment.
Her eyes were steely, her hair dark and her skin flushed as it always was when her passion was up.
His eyes mapped her skin, all the places he had kissed her and heard her gasp in delight.
She was like a secret box that now he knew the sequence to open.
He would always see her that way now. Filled with delightful possibility.
The truth was he had always seen her this way.
His sweet friend, his little Bea. Their easy companionship had blossomed into lust, and, in truth, he had always been waiting for her.
Deep down, he had always seen her this way, but she could never know that.
Better she thought he didn’t understand her at all than he understood her completely.
“I see the truth, Miss Klane,” he looked down at the desk, carefully putting things back in order.
Silas would never know. Soon it would be like it had never even happened.
“I see a lady who is destined for a life that has no need of a man like me. I see a future viscountess. Nothing can change that, and nothing ever will.”
“And what if I see different?” Beatrice demanded. “I shall always have need of you. You are my friend.”
Friend. It was such a loaded term, and it no longer fit their purpose. If she was only his friend, would he burn for her as he did?
Giovanni shook his head. “We are not children anymore, Miss Klane. Friendship is quite out of the question. I think you should leave.”
He didn’t look up to see how his words had landed with her.
He stared, unblinking, at the leather surface of the desk as he heard her footsteps walk towards the door.
He hated that she was leaving but was grateful, too.
She needed to go. She had to stop wanting him.
He must find a way to stop wanting her, thinking of her, and even looking at her.
He needed to stop. This was the only way.
“You say nothing can change it, that nothing ever will,” Beatrice said, and he couldn’t resist looking up, taking in her beautiful face one last time. “But things have changed, Gio. Not half an hour ago, you denied ever touching me. You said I was your sister.”
“So?” Giovanni clenched his hand into a fist.
“So, it is not true anymore, is it?” Beatrice’s eyes flickered with triumph. She shrugged lightly. “Sometimes, things change.”
She was not wrong, but she was also not correct. For Giovanni, he had never felt like she was his sister. The only thing that had changed between them was that he had shown his true colors, just for an instant. That could never happen again.
Giovanni shook his head. “Not this.”
Beatrice unlocked and opened the door. She looked back at him with fierce determination.
“We shall see.”