by Ian Harwood
The only question is why?
Why would she want to cause trouble for me?
That thought requires further study but not now, when I’m in the middle of a situation like this. I need all my wits about me!
I’ve a potential catfight on my hands; and while a few months ago, the idea might have been amusing, it’s the last thing I want now.
Especially after last night.
Damn Clordina and her shitty timing.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” she asks with a pout and a strategic positioning of her body, one that has her breasts juggling like two ripe melons and the curve of her hip jutting out.
It was a strange pose; almost like the female version of a cockerel strutting around the yard.
A few months back, when I was with Sandra, a friend was invited to the mix. Sandra and Rose were… well, they mock-fought in front of me. It was actually rather arousing if a little staged for my benefit, but what red-blooded male wouldn’t appreciate such a gesture? The catfight had been both comical as well as a turn-on.
Now, I seriously can’t be arsed with it.
The idea that I’ve turned into a one-woman man is incomprehensible at this stage. No man likes to feel the freedom of his bachelorhood slipping away, but with Juliet, the prospect isn’t too terrifying.
God help me; I can’t believe I actually admitted that to myself!
“This is my fiancée, Juliet.”
“Your fiancée?” For a moment, I can tell I’ve shocked her silly and then, Clordina manages to compose herself enough to create a single, perfect, gleaming teardrop. “How could you do this to me?” she cries with typical Italian gusto; as well as volume! Hands flailing all over the place, arms waving about, shoulders shrugging with passionate intensity. “You bastard, I thought we had something together!”
For a minute, I freeze. Literally freeze.
Questions stream through my brain and terror has me tensing as though I’ve been through an electric shock.
How could my rejections be misconstrued? And if they weren’t, why is she pretending?
And what will Juliet be thinking at this stranger’s words?
Who will she believe?
And then, I awaken from my fear-riddled stupor. Why? Because Juliet snorts. Honest to God snorts with laughter.
The sound breaks through my frozen stasis and I turn to Juliet, hopelessly relieved to see that her mirth is genuine and not in any way practiced or posed.
“Nice try, Clordina,” Juliet murmurs in a supremely cool voice, as though this woman hadn’t just accused me of sleeping with her behind Jules’ back.
“What do you mean, ‘Nice try’? This bastard promised me the moon and the stars! Don’t you care?”
A gurgling torrent of Italian floods out of her mouth and Juliet stands and in the coldest tone I’ve ever heard her use, and in Italian as fluent as Clordina’s, makes some kind of reply that has the other woman huffing, turning on her spiked heel and taking off for parts unknown.
As Juliet took a seat, I scowl at the woman’s retreating back. “Christ, I’m sorry about that, Jules. I’ve only met the bloody woman a few times!”
“Don’t worry, Joe. I know she was lying.”
“You do? How?” I’m relieved, but confused.
“The moon and the stars aren’t in your repertoire.”
The sadness in her voice has me blinking. She sounds sorry about that. Down. “Do you want it to be?”
“There’s no point in my wanting something unless it’s freely given.”
“For you, it could be.”
She frowns at me. “Why me?”
“I don’t know. You’re different. You always have been.” That’s nothing less than the truth. She’s my opposite and I mean that in both a positive way and a negative.
“Look, if this is about last night…” she breaks off with a sigh.
“What? That I took your virginity? No. It’s not about that.” I don’t have to utter the word virginity, but it still has a thrill shooting through me. This woman is mine. No one else’s and if I have my way that is something that will never change.
Another terrifying thought, but I’m getting used to them.
“Oh.” Will I ever understand women? She sounds disappointed!
“Oh, what?”
A shrug. “I don’t’ know.”
“Helpful, Jules,” I retort easily. What a time for her to go shy on me! “Look, you don’t have to say yes, because of last night, but I meant it, when I said that to Clordina. Fiancée. I’d like you to be.”
“You want me to marry you?”
The disbelieving note has me rolling my eyes. “Why do you sound like I’ve just admitted I’m an alien?”
“Because you’re not the marrying kind, Joe. I know that, you know that. Everyone does.”
“Then why did you sleep with me?”
“Because I wanted to and because I want you.”
“Not enough to marry me?”
“Enough to marry you,” she confirms. “But only if you want this for yourself and outside pressures aren’t pushing you into this.”
“Why should it? I’d have thought you would know me better than that, Juliet. Christ, I do what I want and when. Not even your father can tell me what to do outside of the office. And even then, I argue my point if I believe he’s wrong.
“So, is that a yes?”
“It’s a maybe.”
“Okay. Dependent upon what? I know you’re young, probably too young to get married, but we can wait. We don’t have to leap into this.”
“I was going to say that, but for different reasons. I know what I want, Joe. I won’t lie. I’ve wanted you ever since I turned sixteen and you attended my birthday party with that bitch you were dating.” She sees my scowl and rolls her eyes. "Typical. You can’t even remember her. She was called Cindy of all things and God, I was so jealous of her.” She shakes her head and looks down at the dregs of the coffee in her cup. Her mouth purses, as though she’s forcing herself into silence. Silence permeates the air for a good two minutes, before she clears her throat and continues, "So, yeah, I’ve wanted you for a long time. But I’m not sure about you and why you want me.”
It was strange to be having this conversation in the middle of Bergamo. I hadn’t expected to blurt out such a lie to Clordina, but then I hadn’t expected to see her at all. My plans had been to go into the office later than usual after having brunch with my girlfriend. Well, there have to be some perks to being the boss!
Instead, I find myself inadvertently proposing and not feeling too floored by the prospect of being tied to Juliet.
Who was it that said, ‘A second marriage is the triumph of hope over experience’? I don’t know, but it’s the truth.
And if I’m being pessimistic, there’s always divorce. And she won’t be able to take me to the cleaners; because she’ll be the richer spouse.
As a kid, the idea of marrying the boss’ daughter might solely have been about the money. Now, it’s about something far more terrifying.
Love.
And even though I feel it, and feel it in such a concentration that I’ve never before experienced, I still can’t utter the words to her. Not without feeling like a dick, at any rate. Maybe that’s what she’s waiting for? A declaration of my feelings alongside the proposal?
Even knowing that might be the source of her hesitation; I can’t say a damned thing.
After her revelation, I want to. Badly. I want to tell her that I saw her, for the first time, when she was seventeen. She’d stormed past my office, pissed off about something and intent on arguing with her father until the situation was rectified.
Even now, I can see her in my mind’s eye. Midnight black hair streaming behind her as she strode down the passageway to her father’s office. Cheekbones pronounced with the tension she radiated with the fury throttling her. Pert breasts were displayed to the max in a camisole top and her arse, in a pair of tight de
nims.
I’d felt like a pervert; only reassured by knowing she was, in the eyes of the law, an adult. But even so, my self-disgust had wormed its way deep. Making it so the only way I could communicate with her, all these years later, was like a battle on the playground.
My immaturity pisses me off. But even so, that self-disgust and fear that she’ll think me perverted holds my tongue.
“Who was she, anyway?” Juliet asks, changing the subject at my lack of speech. Her eyes are fixed on the table, studying the false wood grain with way more attention than was required.
Feeling guilty, I sigh and squeeze her fingers, trying to convey the way I feel and knowing that I’ve completely failed. “We’ll talk about this later and in a more suitable place. I can’t believe I brought any of this up in the middle of the square.”
The square was surrounded by cafés and a hodge podge of different styled tables and chairs that enabled the patron of each café’s eyes to differentiate between the establishments.
We’ve already attracted enough attention with Clordina barging through the square, right bang in the middle so as to cause as much fuss as well as screeching at the top of her voice that I made her some kind of promise.
When she made no bones about continuing with such a subject, merely cocks a brow as though my answer won’t do, I concede defeat and answer her question.
“Apparently, she was a part of the airport-collection service. Bloody funny business that. We arrived and there was Clordina for me and the chauffeur seemed to be for Cass.”
“What about my father?”
That I’ve inadvertently brushed upon a subject I hadn’t intended to broach makes me want to smack myself around the back of my head. What a moronic thing to do!
Feeling discomforted, I murmur, “Well, the same could be said about me and you. I didn’t touch Clordina and I doubt Cass has had any more dealings with our chauffeur. Like you know already, the morning after our arrival we received a nasty package in the post and ever since then, she’s been acting so strangely, it’s unnerving. It’s been a bloody nightmare. I’ve had to handle all the work myself; with no help from her. It’s like I said, I haven’t had time to do all my work never mind sleep around. ”
“You can say the words, Joe. I’m pissed off at daddy for involving you in this, but he swears he has no idea why anyone would send you a mutilated hand in the post. ”
“To be honest, he’s involved us in a bloody nightmare, that’s what. We’ve got drugs being shipped out of the factory to only God knows where.” I drop my voice to a just-audible pitch. “Undercover police have infiltrated the factory looking for clues and evidence. Christ knows what they think they’ll find, but so far, no luck. It’s been a complete cock up and that’s why I’ve been off on the phone. I never imagined Cass and I would have to deal with this kind of shit. The factory itself is a decent proposition and its work module is perfect; we’ve updated the machinery. It’s just a shame that this local gang is using the delivery system as transportation for their drugs.”
“Can’t you stop them?
“How? They’ve got the big guys in; not just the local police but a task force agency that deals with these kinds of criminal organizations and they haven’t managed to do diddly squat except fuck up my schedule and overtake my factory floor!”
“Does dad know any of this?”
“I keep sending him reports, but there’s nothing he can do, nothing I can do. It’s just a shame that the factory is a viable investment. ” Deciding to broach the subject before she does, I ask, “How did it go with your father? Have you had a lot to talk about?”
“A lot of things. We cleared the air.” She smiles at me, but it’s wry and in no way angry. “It was mean of you to keep me hanging that way.”
I shrug. “I didn’t think it was my place to tell you, but if you’d wanted to wait, you could have done and I would have explained your father’s past to you. Did he tell you everything?”
“Most of it, but he did say that to properly understand, I should talk to Cass. Clear the air with her, for misjudging her all these years.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “And is that why you’re here? On an angel of mercy mission?”
“Yeah, but not for the reason you think. I could have waited until you all returned home to talk to Cass. I couldn’t have waited much longer to jump your bones.”
Grinning, I lean forward and run a finger along the sharp jut of her cheekbone. In the shade of a parasol, the sun dappling through the heavy-duty fabric, both illuminating and shading her, she’s never looked more enticing to me. Maybe that’s because I know most of her body’s secrets now. Not all of them, because they’ll take a lifetime to learn. But I know a damned sight more than I once did.
My once irrational attraction has developed into something I’d never imagined possible. I’m not a person who loves. My feelings for Brook were adolescent passion mixed with lust. This feels like a weight in my chest. So heavy that it’s almost painful. I don’t even know how they developed. How my stupid crush turned into this need. I guess I’ll never know.
“Right answer; I was in desperate need of your bones too.”
It’s her turn to smile; the left side of her mouth quirking up cheekily. “Whilst I’m here, I might as well talk to her though. I doubt we’ll ever be friends, but there needn’t be this animosity between us either.”
“Well, this might not be the best time to talk to her in all honesty, Jules. She’s been weird ever since she received that hand. I’m not kidding; it’s like a complete regression. Black moods, rebellious glares… it’s like working with a teenager!”
She shrugs. “There’s no better time. I’d like to get it over and done with if I’m honest. Eating humble pie isn’t my favourite way to spend the day and I figure if you’re doing all her work and she’s back at the villa, and then now might be a perfect time.” She reaches forwards and presses a kiss to my lips. Her perfume fills my nose and the gentle brush of her mouth against mine has me tensing my jaw to stop myself from leaning in and taking more than she wants to give.
“Well, I’ll warn you. She’ll bite and God knows what you’ll catch.”
She shrugs again. “Whatever. I’ll catch a taxi and you get to the office. The sooner you get this situation sorted out, the sooner you’ll be back home. You’re behind schedule, aren’t you?”
I nod. “About a month or so.”
Standing, she squeezes my hand and whispers, “Now you’ve got an incentive.”
That being said, she sashays away with as much seductive skill as Clordina. Only with this woman, my cock is harder than a brick and I’m salivating like one of Pavlov’s dogs!
With my eyes glued to her arse, I slip a hand into my jacket pocket, simultaneously retrieving my wallet and mobile. Pressing the speed dial, I lift the phone to my ear as I sort out the bill for the brunch I’ve just eaten with Jules.
“What?”
Cass’ snap has my fists clenching with strain as I seek patience.
I’m getting pretty damned tired of being treated like a woebegone father to her recalcitrant brat. Her mood swings are atrocious. From bouts of sulking where she rarely leaves her rooms at the villa, to times of furious concentration, where she rushes through the factory like a whirling dervish. Accomplishing nothing but pissing off the staff and leaving me with angry managers. Ultimately causing me more work!
“Juliet’s on her way to talk to you.”
“Tell her not to bother!”
Chuckling, I retort, “Yeah, let me know how that works, when you’re talking to her. You know what she’s like with the bit between her teeth.”
“Yeah. Her father.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ve had it up to here with this damned family. I’m sick of him calling and now, to make it worse, he’s sent his bloody daughter to spy on me. Well, she can just sod off!”
The latter was more of a murmur to herself. “Oi,” I chide. “Watch it. I don’t wa
nt you upsetting her, not when she’s coming to you to break the ice!”
“She’s an adult. She can handle herself and you by the sounds of it. As well as the sounds from last night.”
I refuse to blush. I’m nearly thirty-three, not a spotty teenager who flushes and suffers with a spontaneous hard on at the mere mention of S. E. X.
“Yeah, well, make of that what you will, but if you upset her, you’ll have me to answer to.”
“I’m so scared.”
“You should be,” I warn. “I’m carrying you at the minute, Cass. You might be done with the family, but I’m assuming you still need the pay packet to afford the rent in Canary Wharf and that rather nice Merc you drive.”
With that, I cut the call and throw down a few notes, before stalking out of the square and towards my car.
***
It’s a bloody inconvenience having to leave the office this early on in the afternoon. The machinery is close to being fully operational in one sector and I’d intended to work on a staff schedule to bang out the very first order of lace I’ve received from another of Bernard’s companies.
Instead, I’m acting the messenger boy.
Fun.
Even though Juliet did the calling, I’m still pissed off. I’ve a tonne still to do and having to travel home in the middle of the afternoon isn’t pushing me nearer to completing today’s work goals.
By the time I reach the villa, the car’s air con has only just kicked in and taken off the dull slice of heat that severs through my veins every time I step out during the peak hours of the afternoon.
Sweat is beading along my forehead and at the bridge of my nose, making my sunglasses slide about.
Locking the car, I run to the cool shade of the veranda and let myself into the villa. With the cool air con chilling me nicely, I head towards the stairs and am one second away from climbing the arterial staircase, when I hear a noise.
In another mood, I might have let the argument continue unnoticed, but I’m pissed off myself and narky. In other words, I’m in the mood for confrontation. The flood of Italian is aggravating, as I hate not being able to understand, especially considering the last argument between Marco and Brigida!