Page 31 of ‘I Do’ for Revenge
And enjoying Vito, a little devil prompted.
Vito looked at her and saw the heat coming into her face before she could stop it. He said approvingly, ‘That’s good, you’ve got a little colour again.’
Terrified he’d see just how much that was down to him, Flora said, ‘We should probably go?’
Thankfully Vito didn’t argue or say anything else. He led her out of the room and Flora made sure to install Benji in the kitchen area with his bed and treats, before they went down to the ground level where his driver was waiting.
In the car, as it moved through the traffic, Flora thought of the way Vito had so summarily declared he wasn’t going to have a family. She turned to him. ‘If you really have no intention of marrying or having a family, then what’s all this for, if not to leave a legacy to pass down?’ She put out a hand to encompass the city beyond the car.
Vito shook his head, supremely unconcerned. ‘I don’t need a family to leave a legacy. I lost the only family I ever had and I have no intention of living my life in fear that it’ll disappear again. My father’s name will endure, I’ve made sure of that.’
Flora’s heart squeezed. She could understand that sentiment, after losing her own family. But she got distracted from pursuing that line of conversation when she saw where they were going. One of Rome’s most iconic buildings that housed a venerated museum. It was hosting an event that evening to celebrate a new exhibition with all proceeds from the VIP guest tickets going to charities.
She saw the glittering crowd entering the building, and the sense of panic and overwhelm came back with a vengeance. She couldn’t see one woman with her hair down. They were all wearing complicated up-dos and their hair was sleek and shiny.
Flora gripped Vito’s hand. ‘My hair, Vito, it’s too untidy. We should have put it up.’
He looked at her and his mouth quirked. ‘Nonsense, you’ll be a sensation.’
Flora felt queasy. She didn’t want to be a sensation, she wanted to just slip into the crowd and not be noticed and then leave again. But now the car was stopping and Vito was getting out, straightening his jacket and coming around to open her door and putting out a hand. Too late to turn back. She’d set this chain of events in motion when she’d tried to sneak out of his apartment last night looking to find someone to relieve her of her innocence.
And she hadn’t failed. Her skin got hot at the memory of what had happened. She’d had a driving force to be with this man in spite of any obstacles like her virginity, and so now she had to fulfil her part in this arrangement.
Flora let Vito pull her out of the car. Her dress fell around her legs in soft folds. She took a deep breath.
‘Ready?’
She nodded, mentally steeling herself for the experience.
What she was unprepared for were the photographers lined up along the red-carpeted steps, calling out,‘Vito! Over here! Who is your date, please?’
They didn’t recognise her. The same photographers who had been outside the church waiting for her to emerge after the humiliation of being stood up didn’t recognise her. On that wedding day the priest had been kind enough to let her out of a back entrance where he’d had one of the church staff in a car waiting for her.
Her uncle and aunt had just cast her off. She’d had nowhere to go...and in that moment she’d been so angry and humiliated that she’d directed the driver to take her to the only place she could think of. Vito’s office. She hadn’t even known if he’d be there, but he had been. As if it were a normal working day. Adding insult to injury.
‘Vito, who’s your date?’
Vito squeezed Flora’s hand before saying, ‘Don’t you recognise Flora Gavia?’
There was a moment of almost comically hushed silence and then it was pandemonium with shouting and flashing lights, but Vito managed to get them to the top of the steps and into the foyer of the museum before Flora could absorb the enormity of what had just happened. Vittorio Vitale declaring publicly that he was back with his jilted bride-to-be.
She looked around. Guests were being funnelled up a wide central marble staircase. She’d been to this museum when it was open during the day. Not at night, like this, when it had been transformed. A massive crystal chandelier was overhead, emitting a golden light. Flowers adorned every space, and all along either side of the staircase, sending out heady scents.
The medieval frescoes on the ceiling almost paled in comparison. Flora was so busy looking up that she collided into Vito’s back when he stopped. He looked at her and she mumbled, ‘Sorry.’
They were on the first level now and being directed into a massive ballroom, or, as Flora knew it, one of the museum’s vast rooms, usually stuffed with artefacts from ancient Roman times. That had all been cleared out and now this room was full of Rome’s high society being served by waiters wearing black and white. Much as Flora had been doing, not so long ago.
Vito took two glasses of champagne from a tray and handed her one. She took a sip, wrinkling her nose at the bubbles. Golden lighting imbued everyone and everything with a kind of celestial glow. French doors were open onto a wide terrace, which she knew overlooked beautiful landscaped gardens.
‘You’ve been here before?’ Vito asked her.
‘Of course...with my tutor for schoolwork. Not like this. Although,’ she amended then, ‘when I was older, finished with schoolwork, I loved coming to the gardens. There’s a cafe and you can sit for hours watching people come and go.’
‘I’m surprised your uncle gave you the freedom to do that.’ Vito’s tone was dry.
‘Well, he didn’t. I did it when they were away on business or travelling.’ Flora felt self-conscious now. ‘You must think I was very weak to let him have such a hold over me.’
Flora sneaked a look at Vito but he was shaking his head. ‘Not at all. I think it must have taken immense courage and fortitude to withstand that hostile environment and emerge with such a forgiving nature.’