His Fantasy Bride (Things to do Before You Die… #3)(7)

Don’t think about it.

She glanced up to find Vito standing in the bathroom doorway, one shoulder leaning against the wall, his expression shuttered. He’d fastened his clothes, and he was once again Mr. Impeccable in his designer business suit.

While she was naked.

She finally spotted her clothes over the back of a chair and grabbed them. Vito said nothing, just watched as she pulled on sweats and a T-shirt. Time to get out of there; she couldn’t take the accusation in his dark eyes. She felt strangely vulnerable in a way sex had never made her feel before. And she needed to be alone to work out her next move.

Though, surely, he would just walk away now.

Clearly, she wasn’t the “perfect” woman he’d thought her to be.

But she wasn’t ready to hear the words of condemnation spoken out loud. Even if she did deserve them. And worse. Deserved whatever he could throw at her.

What she’d done had been wrong. She might not have thought she had a choice at the time; that didn’t justify her actions.

If Vito walked away now and didn’t come back, then he would never need to know the whole truth. That would be the best thing. Really, it would.

So, why does it hurt?

She blinked a couple of times then scrabbled in her bag for her sunglasses, shoved them on her nose, slung the bag over her shoulder, and then hurried to the door.

He spoke as she turned the handle. “I don’t know who you are.”

“No.” What else was there to say? She opened the door, slipped out, and heard the click as it shut behind her. And then she ran as fast as her shaky legs would carry her.

…

Vito scrubbed a hand over his hair as he stared at the closed door where she’d vanished.

Christo. What the hell had happened to one kiss and then they’d talk?

Sinking down onto one of the stools, he pressed his fingertips into his scalp. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, eyes sleepy, hair mussed. He looked like he’d just gotten laid. Not a look he’d sported in a while. Maybe that’s why he had so thoroughly lost control.

Even now, his body felt sated while his mind was in turmoil. He’d never lost control like that before. He was always aware of the darker side to his nature, the side he’d kept firmly in check.

And he hated that he had no clue what was going on here. All he knew was somehow he’d been played.

But played now? Or six months ago?

He pressed a finger to the spot between his eyes as a wave of exhaustion washed over him. He hadn’t slept last night. Too on edge. And maybe his subconscious had been warning him something wasn’t right. Yesterday had been full of meetings; he’d finally sold the last of the subsidiary companies. Then he’d flown in from Sicily this morning on the company jet, which would be sold soon as well.

It was time to get back to his real life—as a Professor of Archeology at Cambridge University. Though in a weird way, he’d enjoyed the year running his grandfather’s company, enjoyed acting the part of the billionaire playboy CEO. Not that he’d been much of a playboy. He hadn’t had time. The learning curve had been steep, and he’d promised his grandfather he would give it his all for one year.

He’d come here straight from the airport, not wanting to put this off. His driver had dropped him off at the theater and taken his bags on to the hotel. He’d head over there now, shower, catch some sleep, and then go hunt down his runaway bride a second time.

And this time he wouldn’t be distracted.





Chapter Three


Something nudged her in the side. Gabby grunted and rolled over, burying her nose in the back of the sofa and pulling the blanket up over her head.

“Go away,” she mumbled.

“Time to get up, sleepyhead. And what are you doing fast asleep in the afternoon, anyway?”

Trying not to think.

But no way was she saying that to Theresa, who was just about the nosiest person Gabby knew. If she got an inkling anything was going on, she would attempt to worm the truth out of her. And she wouldn’t give up.

Theresa Scarlesi was her best friend, had been since they’d first met when they were both seven. But she was also Luca’s sister, and it was testing her loyalties as it was, asking her not to tell him Gabby’s whereabouts.

But then, Gabby hadn’t told Theresa of the little deal she had made with her brother. All she’d said was that she was avoiding Luca for a while. Theresa was sympathetic; after all, she believed Luca had broken Gabby’s heart a long time ago. In actual fact, he’d only bruised it a little. Gabby hadn’t really loved him. He’d just been a way for her to belong—or not, as it turned out.

But Theresa was a good friend and had offered her unconditional support, along with her couch, when Gabby had come back from Sicily homeless and a little…lost.

Six months later and she still hadn’t found herself.

Her life was one big messy mass of lies.

And, oh God, I just had sex with Vittorio D’Ascensio.

Arch enemy of the Scarlesis.

And it had been the best sex ever, even if it should never have happened. She had a flashback to the feel of him deep inside her, and her thighs clenched together.

“Haven’t you got a performance tonight?” Theresa asked, pulling her out of the pit of depravity her mind had sunk into.