Page 37 of ‘I Do’ for Revenge
‘Her name is Carrie Black—’
Vito’s hands stopped moving. Flora turned her head. ‘Do you know her?’
‘She’s the wife of the man I’m hoping to do some business with, Lord Massimo Black. He’s primarily a philanthropist but he does invest in choice businesses. What were you talking about?’
He could see Flora bite her lip. She turned to face him more fully now. ‘Just chit-chat really. She was lovely.’
Flora suddenly looked nervous. ‘Actually...she recognised me.’
‘How?’
‘They’d been in Rome when the wedding...didn’t happen. The paparazzi didn’t get any shots of me afterwards but the tabloids had some old pictures of me from something with my uncle. When she realised I was here with you she said she hoped I’d made you grovel for what you’d done.’
Vito couldn’t exactly fault her sentiment. The guilt he felt at all but throwing Flora out onto the streets was still like a burr under his skin. ‘What did you say?’
‘Something about you having your reasons.’ Flora’s mouth quirked. ‘She said she hoped you were going to bring me to Tiffany’s or Cartier for a suitably expensive grovel gift.’
Flora’s mouth stopped quirking and she said quickly, ‘I told her of course I wasn’t into anything like that. And how you’d let me bring my dog to New York. She gave me her number and told me to call her if I wanted to meet up. She has her children here but she said a walk in the park might be nice some day.’
Vito thought of how he’d had a conversation with Massimo Black and the man had expressed interest in meeting Vito again to discuss things further. Meanwhile Flora had been exchanging numbers with his wife.
Normally when Vito brought a date to a social function, it was purely as an enhancement with the prospect of sating his libido. He’d certainly never experiencedthiskind of scenario: a woman actually helping him to foster other connections. It was disconcerting, because it made him realise that perhaps insisting on being a lone wolf was a weakness. And that having someone by his side in a more meaningful way could actually be an advantage, beyond just presenting a superficially more respectable image.
Flora said, ‘I hope I didn’t do or say anything to damage your relationship with Carrie’s husband.’
Vito realised that she looked anxious. He shook his head. ‘Not at all. And it’s not your responsibility to be concerned for my image or business concerns.’
Now she looked embarrassed. ‘Oh, of course, I know I have no influence.’
‘Oh, you have influence, Flora, don’t worry about that.’ Vito reached for her and pulled her closer, leaving her in no doubt as to exactly how her influence affected him. ‘You couldn’t but be an asset to the people around you. You’re a nice person, Flora Gavia, and that’s a miracle considering who you had to grow up with.’
To Vito’s surprise, Flora’s eyes looked suspiciously bright. ‘That’s a really sweet thing to say.’
Vito felt a little winded for a moment. No one had ever accused him of beingsweetbefore, certainly not a woman. He was acutely aware of Flora’s relative naivety and innocence, not just physical, and once again he felt a sense of protectiveness that he couldn’t stem, even though it unnerved him.
He assured himself again that, for all of that naivety though, she knew what was happening here and she had no false illusions. In fact, out of all the women he’d been with, she was the least likely to believe in fairy tales. They both had their respective past traumas to thank for that.
She looked shy now and her cheeks were pink. ‘Actually, there was something I wanted to do earlier but we didn’t have time...’
Vito recalled her hand on him, shaping his body, and he issued a command to put up the privacy window, but also to drive around until he told the driver differently.
He said, ‘We have all the time in the world now.’
He watched as Flora, with her tongue between her teeth, set about freeing him from his trousers. He had to call on every ounce of control he possessed not to spill right there, watching as she took him in her hand and moved it up and down as if fascinated by the way he looked in her hand.
He was about to tell her to stop, he wouldn’t be able to hold on and he would make a fool of himself, but now she was lowering her head and her breath was feathering over his sensitised flesh, and he had to put his head back and grit his teeth so hard it hurt as she wrapped her mouth around him and his universe was reduced to that hot sucking heat.
When Vito had fallen over the edge of pleasure and control and Flora came back up again, a very feminine smile on her face, Vito cursed himself for ever thinking she was naive or innocent. She was no such thing. She was a temptress through and through and he was an idiot to think otherwise.
When Flora woke the following morning she found she was getting used to the sensation of her body feeling heavy with a sensual lassitude. The night came back in fragments, the car on the way to the party, the way Vito had made her come apart, and then afterwards how she’d madehimcome apart. It had been intensely satisfying to see his face flushed, eyes glittering, looking at her as if she’d just stunned him.
But then, when they’d returned to the apartment, he’d shown her in no uncertain terms who was the master here. Undoubtedly him, in spite of her little victories.
She heard a sound and cracked open one eye to wince at the bright daylight flooding into the bedroom.
She opened both eyes and felt a small furry weight launch onto the bed, landing beside her. She snuggled Benji close.
‘He’s been fed and walked already, by Matthew, the housekeeper. You can go back to sleep.’