Page 40 of ‘I Do’ for Revenge

Vito had been sorely tempted to remind her of exactly how useful she was, in his bed, but he’d resisted the urge. Partly because it had unnerved him, how strong it was to just...give into their mind-blowing desire.

He looked out over the city skyline. She was somewhere out there, in this vast city, on her own, doing...something.Making herself useful! And he was curious. Because he was sure that whatever she was doing would surprise him. Curious, and also a little envious if he was completely honest. For the first time since he could remember, work and his relentless ambition felt a little...hollow. The lure of being with Flora as she discovered the city was appealing. More than appealing.

He was so tempted to text her and check what shewasdoing that he deliberately didn’t. Had he forgotten that she was a Gavia? And even though he was fairly certain now that she hadn’t been involved in any of her uncle’s nefarious activities, by allowing her to distract him like this, it was almost as if he were still allowing them to sabotage his business.

He turned away from the view and back to the meeting and said, ‘Where were we?’ and put all thoughts of Flora out of his head.

Three days later.

Vito was ready to admit defeat. He’d spent the last few days throwing himself into his work schedule in a bid to pretend that Flora wasn’t taking up as much of his mental energy as she was.

But he was losing it. Not even slaking his lust with her in bed at night made up for the fact that, during the days, he’d more or less left her to her own devices and had then painted himself into such a corner with work that when they’d returned to the apartment last night after an event, he’d had to take an important work call.

When he’d finally managed to terminate it, blood humming with anticipation, he’d come to the bedroom to find Flora on the bed, in that silky negligée, but fast asleep. She’d looked like Sleeping Beauty, and as innocent.

Something had made him hold back from waking her. A sense of exposure that was becoming all too familiar. And the desperation that had clawed at him to have her. It was growing stronger. Not weaker.

But now he found that his need to know where she was and what she was doing was superseding everything else. Even work.

He rang his housekeeper and was informed that Flora was out. ‘Doing what?’ Vito asked as civilly as he could.

‘Um... I believe she’s walking dogs.’

‘You meanthedog. Benji.’

‘No,’ his housekeeper responded, ‘I meandogs. She got talking to one of the neighbours the other day who was telling her she couldn’t get out because she had a sprained ankle, so Flora offered to take her two dogs on her walk. By the time she came back from that walk, a couple more neighbours were asking her if she could walk their dogs too.’

Vito absorbed this. He terminated the call, feeling more distracted than ever. He turned to his manager. ‘You have everything in hand for the rest of the day?’

‘Of course, I’ll call if anything comes up.’

Vito left, not even sure where he was going or what he was doing. He instructed his driver to take him back to his apartment. It was late afternoon anyway, so not entirely inconceivable that he’d be stopping for the day, but for him, a man whose single-minded focus had been on work since he was a teenager, it was a novel sensation.

The car pulled up outside the apartment building and Vito saw her. She was waiting to cross the road. His blood and pulse leapt. She looked...like a wild-haired nymph. She was wearing rolled-up jeans, a worn T-shirt—none of the sleek clothes the stylist had packed for her. Trainers.

And she was holding leads attached to at least six dogs. She crossed the road in front of the car and disappeared into the building. Vito got out and went up to the apartment.

When she returned with just Benji, presumably after dropping off the other dogs to their respective owners, Vito was waiting in the reception room. She saw him and stopped. She smiled. ‘Hi. I didn’t expect to see you back so early.’

Vito ignored the prick of his conscience at her obvious happiness to see him. ‘Clearly. Were you going to tell me about your little entrepreneurial side hustle?’

Flora frowned. ‘You mean the dogs? You saw me?’

Vito nodded. Her face flushed. He forced himself to focus and not think of making the rest of her body flush with desire.

Now Flora looked wary. ‘What’s wrong? Am I not allowed to help people?’

Of course she is.

‘You’re not charging them to walk their dogs?’

Now she looked disgusted. ‘Of course not. They’re your neighbours. And they’re very nice. Mrs Weinberg sprained her ankle—’

Vito held up a hand. She stopped talking. He said, ‘I’m sure they’re lovely people. But you’re not a dog-walker.’

Flora pushed some hair over her shoulder, agitated. ‘I can be whatever I want to be.’

‘I thought you wanted to be a graphic designer.’