by Lucy Leroux
He drew himself up, looking down on them with the distaste he felt all over his face. “You’d still be able to live like a parasite off your father, of course, but make no mistake. I have men watching you now. They will continue to watch you wherever you go—whatever you do. Anything illegal and I turn their surveillance over to the authorities.”
Her face was ashen pale. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“Try me.”
She stood up then while Vincenzo watched, his head swinging back and forth between them like a spectator at a tennis game.
Maria Gianna’s face twisted. “All this for her, that fat slut! You’re willing to make my life a living hell, but you wouldn’t lift a finger to fight for me.”
“Why the hell would I fight to keep a faithless whore?”
The venom in his voice hit her like a physical slap. She shrank away from him, backing away until her legs hit the edge of the bed.
“And don’t call Sophia names unless you want the shitstorm to start now. Sophia’s ten times the woman you are.”
Maria Giana turned away with a smirk. “Literally,” she muttered.
Gio took another step closer, then another, until she had to sit to avoid bumping into him. He stared her down with a glare hot enough to burn.
“Don’t test me. I’m done looking the other way to protect your father.” He turned his black expression to Vincenzo. “And don’t think you’re getting off the hook. As of Friday, you no longer have a platform to print your filth.”
“What does that mean?” Vincenzo asked, sweat beading on his forehead.
“It means I bought the Gavazzi newspapers.”
Maria Gianna stood back up, her face flushed red now. “You can’t do that!”
“It’s already done.”
“Even you don’t have that kind of money,” she sneered. “The Gavazzi group is a media empire.”
“You’re kidding,” he scoffed. “Old media is dead. Newspapers and magazines are closing all over the world. I bought the lot for a song.”
“Papa sold you everything?” Vincenzo looked like he was going to be sick..
Gio didn’t bother to answer. He turned away and headed for the door.
“Giancarlo, wait!” Vincenzo caught up with him at the door, hastily wrapping a sheet around himself. “I didn’t know about the girl. I saw Maria Gianna talking with Lucca that night and buying him drinks, but I didn’t hear her say anything to him about your new woman. I had to fly out to New York the next day for a meeting the next day so I took off early. “
He stopped and looked back at Maria Gianna sitting on the bed. “You don’t think she would actually do something like that, do you?” he asked in a low voice.
Pausing, Gio took a good hard look at his former friend. There were new lines on his face that hadn’t been there only two years before. His skin was ruddier and the whites of his eyes had yellowed. Being Maria Gianna’s yes-man had taken its toll.
“Do yourself a favor and get away from her now, before there’s nothing of the old Vinny left,” he said, his heart heavy with old memories. They had been good friends once.
Vincenzo looked down, unable to meet his eyes. Gio opened the door. Enzo was waiting outside.
“Let’s go home,” Gio said, the rush of adrenaline from the confrontation wearing away.
Sophia was waiting for him.
Chapter 21
I’m going to kill him, Sophia thought as she paced across the penthouse living room. Gio had been gone all night and he hadn’t called or responded to any of her texts.
She had hurried home from the lab, eager to spend another night in with her man. Instead, she’d found an empty apartment and that damn little note.
What the hell had he been thinking? Didn’t he know leaving like that was going to drive her crazy? Especially after that little bombshell message. So he was “going after” his ex-wife, was he? Well, what exactly was he planning on doing once he found her?
It’s not to get back together, so stop picturing him naked with the Italian stick insect.
Sophia knew better than that. After everything Elynn and Alex had told her, she didn’t believe that Gio was after some sort of reconciliation with Maria Gianna. But there was still that tiny insecure part of her that was comparing herself with the glamorous and svelte, evil ho-bag.
No, what Gio was after was some sort of revenge. What he had planned was a mystery. He was too much of a sweetheart to do anything violent, even if his note did make him some like the lead in a bad gangster movie.
Knowing him, Gio was going to hit them where it hurt—their wallets. It was what he’d done with Lucca, and if the updates from Salvatore were to be believed, the little shit was remorseful and reformed.
What Gio’s exact plans were for his dreadful wife and her co-conspirator didn’t matter. As hateful and wretched as those asshats were, what actually bothered her about his little disappearing act was something else.
And he gets to hear all about it right now, she decided, when the penthouse door opened to reveal her aggravating Italian in one of his trademark charcoal suits.
The smile he gave her in greeting threatened to take the wind out of her sails, but she was determined not to get sidetracked by his looks and charm. Crossing her arms and tapping her foot, she waited while he crossed the suddenly endless expanse of the foyer.
“I missed you, cara,” he said, his steps slowing as he reached her.
He bent his head to give her a kiss, but she was having none of it. Reaching up, she grabbed his puckered lips.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“What’s wrong, cara?” he asked.
At least that’s what she thought he said—she hadn’t let go of his lips so it came out somewhat garbled.
“Are you serious? You take off to go see your ex-wife and don’t pick up your phone the whole night?”
He squinted and gently pried her fingers off his lips.
“Cara, I’m sorry if you were worried, but I couldn’t talk to you. I needed to stay mad.”
“What?”
His shoulders went up to his ears and stayed there. “I had to confront my ex-wife about her involvement in your attack. She egged Lucca on, got him drunk and put the idea of coming after you in his head. She even drove him to my place.”
Sophia closed her eyes. “Yes, Elynn told me all that. And might I add that sucks! You should have been the one to tell me. I had a right to know what kind of psycho you married.”
He held up his index finger. “And divorced. I may have married her, for the wrong reasons, might I add, but I got out when I saw what she really was.”
Throwing up her hands, she bowed sarcastically. “If it’s credit you want, fine, you've got it. But as long as we’re keeping score, can I point out that my ex has never sent anyone to attack you!”
Gio’s face darkened. “So this is about Richard?” he asked incredulously.
“No!” Sophia yelled, before changing her mind. “Yes, all right! It is. You go on and on about Richard, like he’s some kind of thug when your ex-wife is this unbelievable bitch who is actually dangerous. And I’m supposed to sit here and do nothing while you go and confront her!”
He stared at her for a moment, his mouth open. “Only because it’s my fault she even knows about you. The only reason she tried to hurt you is to strike out at me. So I went and made sure it would never happen again. It’s my job to protect you.”
“I don’t need protecting. I can take care of myself. If I were in the same town with your ex, I would have dealt with her myself.”
“You don’t have to do that. She’s my ex—my problem to deal with.”
She put her hand on her hips. “You mean like Richard is my problem, not yours.”
His head drew back. “That’s not the same thing at all.”
“And how is it different?”
He put his hands out in a supplicating gesture, but they w
ere tensed so hard she could see the veins in them. “I have a bad feeling about him. I think he’s obsessed with you. He’s still trying to win you back. Or am I wrong? Tell me he hasn’t called or texted you more than once since I’ve been gone.”
She pressed her lips together and didn’t answer.
“See, he still isn’t willing to let go. Considering how long you’ve been broken up, not to mention the fact that you’re with me now, it’s unhealthy that he hasn’t given up yet.”
“He’s buying my father’s stuff—crap he’s welcome to. After that, I won’t hear from him.”
Gio laughed humorlessly, making her boiling mad.
“Hey,” she snapped, “where do you get off telling me what to do with my ex, when you won’t give me the same right with yours? If I have to get constantly lectured about Richard, I should have the same right to tell you what to do with Maria Gianna. It’s only fair.”
“But that's not the same thing. I don’t speak to my ex.”
She threw up her hands. “Except you just left town to go and see her!”
“Only to make sure she never came after you again!”
“Then you should have taken me with you. I would have had a hell of a time convincing her that would be a fucking stupid idea!”
Gio stared at her like she was some species he’d never seen before. A little piece of her knew she was being irrational. She certainly wasn’t explaining herself well. The subject of douchebag Richard wasn’t where she wanted to take a stand in their relationship. But she couldn’t let Gio decide how she should deal with her ex while he went off and did the exact opposite. He had to learn to trust her judgment and accept that they should both be held to the same standards.
Inhaling deeply, she went for her coat. “I’m going to go home and sleep there tonight.”
Gio’s face fell. “Sophia, don’t leave.”
She paused at the door. “Look, I know I don’t get to tell you how to deal with the people in your life. But you don’t get to dictate those things to me, either.”
He followed her to the door. “I’m just concerned because I love you!”
“Yeah, well, I love you, too!” she yelled back before slamming the door in his face.
Chapter 22
Sophia stormed out of Gio’s high-rise in her brand new heels. Her fury lasted all through the trip across town and up the three flights of stairs to her apartment. She yanked off her dress and threw her shoes across the room with a satisfying hard kick.
She’d most likely be on her hands and knees checking them for scuffs later because she suspected the red soles meant they were Louboutins. She should have checked before she tossed them.
Kelly had taken a good look at her wardrobe and pointed out the luxury labels. Gavin had clearly been ordered to buy her designer clothes and not tell her what they actually cost. Or he’d found the mother of all trunk sales.
Irritated with herself, and even more annoyed with Gio, she jumped in the shower, washing off her makeup with extra rough scrubbing.
After that, she turned off her cell phone and took a very large glass of wine to bed to re-watch “The Holiday” on her computer for the twentieth time.
She woke up the next day a great deal calmer. After making herself coffee, she puttered around her apartment in her flannel pajamas, studiously pretending her cell phone didn’t exist. She needed a little more time before she talked to Gio.
Forgiving him wasn’t a question. It was a matter of when. However, her stubborn streak wanted to make him stew a little. It hadn’t been terribly mature of her to walk out, but she couldn’t let him dictate to her the terms of her relationships. Elynn was right. She needed to set limits now, or he’d walk all over her.
She sat on the couch and hugged a pillow to her middle before picking up her mug and looking around. Her coffee table was dusty. It had been a while since she stayed here. And damnit—it felt tiny after Gio’s palatial penthouse.
Her apartment had always been her haven. Every piece of furniture, every picture and knickknack had been chosen with relaxation in mind. It was a cozy space, comfortable while still being orderly and neat. She was extremely attached to each and every item in the place. But as soon as Gio rolled into town with his deluxe apartment in the sky, she hadn’t looked back.
It should have felt good being surrounded by her possessions again. It didn’t. And it wasn’t because she missed the luxury of Gio’s penthouse. This place seemed…empty.
She was too much of a feminist to admit it aloud, but being alone felt strange now. Gio hadn’t taken over her life, but he had carved out a big space in it for himself. Even now when she was mad at him, she wanted to see him or hear his voice.
It wasn’t like those times she’d missed Richard. Each time her ex left town without her, for work or to see his family, she’d marked his absence and told herself she missed him. But it was nothing like this whole-body longing. She hadn’t yearned for him like she was doing now for Gio.
Ugh. Sophia took a deep breath. This whole being-in-love thing was turning her into a big pile of mush.
And this situation wasn’t anything like her time with Richard. Gio didn’t take her for granted. It was quite the opposite, in fact. Her former relationship had chipped away at her self-worth and made her feel unattractive and unimportant. Richard had taken his cues from her own father, constantly picking at her appearance and downplaying her accomplishments.
Now she was with a man who not only delighted in her success, but he made her feel beautiful and sexy. The way he had introduced her to his friends and family, with such obvious pride, had meant everything to her. It felt good to be important to someone so accomplished and kind in their own right.
She could only hope that things would settle down the longer they were together. Gio had no reason to be jealous of Richard. Or of any other man. Yes, her ex was being oddly tenacious, but she knew that he didn’t really want to reconcile.
Could it be that Richard’s hero worship of her father was inspiring this effort to win her back? If so, it was a half-hearted attempt at best. A few phone calls, and that one text. He had dropped by the lab once to try and take her to lunch, but she had already left for an early meal with Elynn.
Hopefully, once she sold him the Chevette, it would be the end of her involvement with him. She knew Gio didn’t understand why she wanted him to have it, but in her mind her father and Richard would always be tied together. Mentally she compartmentalized them in the same box—and their possessions belonged right there with them. Getting rid of it was her clean start.
Reassuring herself that she was doing the right thing, she finally turned on her phone. Only one missed call from Gio and one text that read Please call me when you feel like talking.
Considering how they’d left things, he was showing remarkable restraint. There was a missed call from Richard, too, probably another inquiry about getting the car’s ownership papers.
Procrastinating, she decided to check her email before calling him back. At the top of her inbox was one from Kelly with the subject “Have you seen this?!!!”
Concerned something was wrong with Kelly or her husband she opened it. All the message said was, “Isn’t this what your father was working on?” and there was a link to the Sociology Department’s Homepage.
There splashed at the top of the page was a feature on Richard and his new appointment as the head of the department. It was the next paragraph that had her seeing red. It was praising Richard for his groundbreaking and insightful work on the evolution of online trolling and its impact on gender identity in the internet age.
No, it can’t be.
With a sinking sensation, she clicked on the link to Richard’s most recent paper. Scanning the abstract quickly, she found her suspicions were correct.
Richard had stolen her father’s research and published it as his own. Sucking in a breath, she went back to the original article on his appointment. The story pr
aised Richard as a bright young star. It credited his most recent advancements in the field as the reason he was chosen for the prestigious Sotheby chair of Sociology. With the position came a sizable research grant and tenure.
I don’t believe this.
How could Richard do something so unethical? And how had he gotten away with it? Didn’t the other faculty know what her father had been working on during the last days of his life?
Probably not many of them. Her father had been a perfectionist. It was likely that he hadn’t detailed his work to his colleagues until he was ready to publish it. She was an exception, but only because he didn’t see her as a real scholar. In his eyes, she was a mere experimentalist who enjoyed getting her hands dirty—not a pure abstract thinker like him.
Her father had been about to submit his research project for publication the last time she’d talked to him. It hadn’t occurred to her to check and see if he’d actually done it.
But she should have thought of it. They hadn’t been close, but she still owed it to him to ensure that his legacy as a scholar was recognized. His work had been the most important thing to him—far more important than his marriage or his daughter. If anything, the fact that he’d bored her senseless detailing his research all those Sundays while he puttered in his drafty garage, meant the damn thing would be published under his name.
Was that why Richard wanted the house? Had he known her father’s unpublished work was sitting there unclaimed? And why the hell had he wanted the car? Was it guilt? Did he think claiming all the old man’s possessions somehow made it right to plagiarize his research as well?
At the time she had been grateful when Richard agreed to take her father’s personal belongings. Anything she hadn’t wanted was going to charity anyway, and she’d decided it should all go.