Afterwards, when we’re both sated and damp with sweat, we slowly get dressed again, then stroll back through the poppies, enjoying the sensation of their caress on our bare legs. I really don’t want to leave this place, but I know we have to. That this is going to end soon.
We’re both quiet on the journey home, lost in our own worlds, sun-kissed and sexually satisfied.
I push away a niggle of despondency as we drive back into the bustle of the city, the magic of the afternoon already slipping away.
We’ve not talked much today, but it’s been a comfortable quiet between us. A wordless understanding of just being. It strikes me again how much calmer I feel when I’m around her, like the usual whirlpool of thoughts and overabundance of adrenaline lessens to a more manageable level.
But then that could be down to all the sex we’ve been having. That would take the liveliness out of anyone.
Juno excuses herself to take a shower as soon as we get back and I’m fixing myself a cold drink in the kitchen when my mobile begins to ring.
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 sq
ueeze 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.
‘We should celebrate,’ I murmur, staring into her deep-blue eyes and getting a little lost in the warmth I see there.
‘What are we celebrating?’ she murmurs back.
‘You.’
‘Me?’ She looks confused.
‘Yeah, you. For finally breaking out of your chrysalis and becoming a butterfly.’ I cringe a little at how cutesy that sounds, but she doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, I think she quite likes the idea of it.
‘I couldn’t have done it without you,’ she says, sliding her hand up to cup my jaw and draw me towards her for a kiss. As soon as our lips meet I feel a rushing sensation all over my body. It’s not just lust. It’s something deeper than that. Something new and frightening.
‘So now you can go back to your lecturer guy and seduce the Y-fronts off him,’ I joke, trying to throw off the disconcerting way I’m feeling. But even as I say this I’m hoping she’ll laugh at the idea of that. Tell me she’s changed her mind about Adam—that she wants to stay with me, to continue whatever it is we’ve started here.
My stomach lurches when she just nods, smiles and says, ‘I don’t think he’s the Y-fronts-wearing type. He strikes me as more of a boxer shorts kind of guy.’ There’s a faraway look in her eyes, as if she’s picturing him right now, standing in front of her with a hard-on and a smile.
I feel sick.
I want to say something disparaging about him—point out that the guy doesn’t deserve her if he hasn’t taken the time to figure out what an amazing woman she is—but before I can formulate the words I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to see an old school friend of mine grinning back at me.
‘Francesco!’ I say, giving him a jovial slap on the back. ‘Come va?’
‘Bene,’ he replies, returning my friendly greeting. ‘Good to see you. I thought you were in London now?’ He glances towards Juno and I turn to look at her too. She’s gazing at him in fascination. Now, Francesco is a handsome guy, I’ll admit that, but I don’t think he warrants that much fucking adoration. The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention as she flashes him a smile.
‘Ciao, bella,’ Francesco murmurs smoothly, stepping towards her and kissing her lightly on both cheeks. I can tell from his body language that he finds her attractive. Too fucking attractive for my liking. ‘And who are you?’
‘I’m Juno. I’m a friend of Sandro’s.’ She says this so easily, I know in my heart that’s exactly how she thinks of me. Just a friend—with benefits, sure, but still just friends.
‘Hey, have you guys visited the Bargello while you’ve been here?’ Francesco asks.
When we both shake our heads, he says, ‘You must! I’m the curator there now and we’ve been doing wonderful things. You were always interested in art, weren’t you, Sandro?’ Before I get a chance to reply, he carries on speaking, looking directly at Juno, to my utter fucking annoyance. ‘Come. I’ll show you around personally. We have some amazing exhibits at the moment. You’ll love them.’
‘That would be wonderful, but I’m not going to be in Florence for much longer,’ Juno says sadly.
‘What? No, you must stay!’ Francesco says, giving it the full works: big, sad eyes and a covetous hand on her shoulder. I recognise the move. It’s one I’ve used myself to good effect.
‘Maybe I’ll make it back some day soon,’ she says, clearly buying in to this crap.
I want to punch something. Probably him.
‘I need another drink,’ I mutter, and before either of them can say anything I stride away to the bar and order a double shot of whisky.
Turning back with the glass clutched in my hand, I watch them from a distance, feeling my heart hammering in my chest.
What the fuck is happening to me?
Whatever it is, I don’t like it.
Francesco moves his hand to brush an eyelash off Juno’s cheek and shyly she smiles up at him.
Out of nowhere a veil of blinding rage descends over me. I bunch my hands into fists and drag in a ragged breath, feeling as if someone’s just ripped my fucking guts out. I don’t want anyone else touching her like that, seeing that hazy look in her eye, making her smile. I want it to be all for me, only me.
Not for Francesco—and definitely not for that fucking lecturer asshole back in England.
Unfortunately, she chooses that moment to look over towards where I’m standing and the smile fades from her face.
I see her excuse herself from Francesco and start to move through the crowd towards me.
Forcing a neutral expression onto my face is pretty fucking tough, but I think I manage it, because when she makes it over to me she gives me a tentative smile.
‘Are you okay? It looked for a second like you were annoyed about something.’
‘I’m fine,’ I say, swatting away her concern and staring over her shoulder at a small group of women by the bar.
She turns to follow my line of vision and I sense her tense as she spots what, or rather whom, I’m looking at.
‘Do you know them?’ she asks. Her voice sounds high-pitched and accusatory, as if she thinks I have a nerve to check out other women in the room. This riles me. She has no right to police what I do, not when she clearly thinks it’s okay to make eyes at my friend in front of me.
I shrug. ‘I’ve seen them around at parties. I may have slept with one or two of them.’
This is a lie, and I feel a sting of shame as I see her visibly tense at the insensitivity of my answer.
‘It looks like you’re not finding it hard to handle attention from men today either,’ I add, feeling the need to defend myself. I wouldn’t have been looking at those women if she hadn’t been fawning over Francesco the wonder kid. Even as I think this, I know what a fucking tool I’m being. She’s just testing her new-found abilities. Life has suddenly opened up to her and she’s enjoying treading new ground. I get that.
But I also hate it.
I notice a photographer spot us from the other side of the room and start to head our way, his camera held up ready to take our photo. Panic shoots through me. I don’t want to have to deal with that right now.
‘Come with me,’ I whisper into her ear, taking her by the elbow and quickly leading her out of the room. There’s a sweeping staircase to our right that leads to more function rooms and the roof terrace. A good place to hide out for a while.
‘Where are we going?’ she pants as I urge her to climb the stairs in front of me. It reminds me suddenly of following her up the stairs at the party in Chelsea and I feel a pang of nostalgia for the life I had before we embarked on this crazy folly. But only for a second. What I have in front of me now is worth so much more. I’ll never regret agreeing to help her. Never. Even if it does end up tearing my fucking heart out.
Good Girl Page 12