Page 48 of Giorgio
“Alone?”
“Yes. How are you?”
“Any idea when you will be returning?”
Putting the cup down, she picked up an apricot and bit into it.
“I am still not fully recovered, remember?” She asked patiently. “My memory is still not back.”
He frowned at her. “I am wondering if that is just an excuse. You seem perfectly fine to me.”
“I am healthy otherwise, but I still can’t remember anything.”
“Where is the playboy?”
“Please don’t call him that.” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them and had his frown deepening.
“Why the hell not? Isn’t that what he is referred to as? I sincerely hope you are not harboring any kind of conflicting feelings for him.
When I bought you that ticket and advised you to indulge in a holiday romance, it was not with someone like Giorgio Russo. He is not the type of man who is going to offer you marriage. And darling, you have a poor track record when it comes to men.”
“Thanks for that.” Her appetite had disappeared, and the feeling of doom was settling over her. “And what I do is none of your business. I happen to be an adult.”
“An adult who has had her heart broken too many times to count. Look…,” he sighed impatiently. “I am your only family and am just looking out for you.”
“Please remind me. Do I meddle in your affairs just as much as you do in mine?”
“I am not the one who consistently choose the wrong person.” He shook his head. “I just miss you Jules and want you to come home. And I am worried. You were never one to care about fashion and here you are dressed to kill this early in the morning. Like you are trying to impress someone.”
“Or I might just be doing this for myself. I am trying my best to give a positive spin on things and I don’t want you or anyone else to question my motives.”
“You are right,” he conceded. “I am sorry. I am pissed that I am still dealing with this damn trial and unable to make a move. I also feel guilty that you were involved in an accident, and I am this far away from you.”
Her anger evaporated. “I am fine. They treat me very well and staying here is better than any five star hotel.”
“It’s the consequences I am worried about.” He muttered.
“Please stop worrying. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, no matter what you think.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, before she hung up with the assurance that she would call him later in the day.
When she hung up, she realized that her appetite had disappeared. The meal wasn’t enticing anymore, the fruit which had been so delicious before was no longer appealing. Her brother’s words had brought up some unwelcome thoughts.
Like the one about Giorgio being an ‘international playboy.’ That had not escaped her. She had read several captions and in every one of them, that was how he was characterized.
He was seen with a different female in every single photo, each one more beautiful than the previous. And they were from the upper echelon of society. Women who were articulate and possessed the necessary social graces.
Ones she was positive were lacking in her. He was also highly educated, an overachiever. She had read his bio, a very detailed one. He had been to Oxford and Cambridge, no wonder his English was so precise. He spoke five languages and was in possession of two degrees.
He was highly intelligent and could probably hold conversations with the brightest of them all. He was friends with Prince Harry and Prince Francesco of Ricci Island. He was fabulously wealthy, the family owned several yachts, two private planes and a fleet of other boats. They had a couple of vineyards.
There was a photo of him at the villa in Tuscany with a group of friends, having a winetasting party. His date had been a European princess, and the woman was clinging to him as if he was the best thing that ever happened to her.
He wouldn’t want her. Juliana Campbell was a simple American editor who probably went to college. She had not asked her brother if it was an Ivy League or just a community college. Probably the latter.
She was out of a job and had no prospects in sight. He wouldn’t just choose her over all the eligible women he had been with.It didn’t work that way. Yes, she had read up on several of the ‘wives’ of members of his club and some of them were otherwise simple women, but it didn’t mean that was going to happen to her.
From her brother’s comments, it appeared that she had never been a fashionista. He had laughingly told her that her sense of fashion left a lot to be desired. And she had seen that for herself. The ones she had packed for her trip were outdated and off the rack. Apparently, until now, it had not mattered to her.