Page 20 of Isle of Seduction
“Let me guess, everyone’s going to be interested in knowing the woman who tamed the man-whore Andrea Capaldi?”
My words are harsher than I intend and I don’t miss the very subtle grimace at the corner of his mouth. I’m a bitch, but I’m not cruel. Guilt settles in my belly like lead.
“Yes, Giulia. I wouldn’t settle for just anyone.” He waits for me to tell him my story like he’s earned it.
“Let me be clear, Capaldi. I don’t trust you, so I’ll tell you what you need to know to fool people who don’t know me. Rest assured that I won’t give you an inch.”
He chuckles at that, giving me whiplash and I curse myself for using dirty words carelessly like that. Of course he’d notice. He stays silent, his usual smirk back in place.
Where it belongs. Shut up, brain.
“Alright, tell me how we met.”
“We met by chance in London four years ago while I was studying, had a whirlwind romance, but I was expected in Kalliste. You never got over me and continued pursuing me, though I refused, until our cousins decided to get married, bringing us close once more. After four years of presents and letters and declarations, I finally accepted to give you a chance.”
“Because you were secretly in love with me, or else you wouldn’t have jumped into a marriage with someone you just wanted to give a chance to.”
I sigh loudly at his retort. Unfortunately, he makes sense. “Fine, but I’ll be sure to remind every single person in attendance that you pursued me and not the other way around. Make sure to play the part.”
“That won’t be hard, guerrieritta.”
I’m not sure what he means by that.
I ignore it as best as I can and continue with surface-level information. “My favourite colour is…”
I don’t have time to finish before he cuts me off. “Dark blue, though you prefer it when it’s mixed with dashes of dark forest green and yellow, and you fool everyone into believing it’s pink.”
I’m rarely shocked into silence, but I just stare at him, a strange warm feeling spreading in my chest.
“How do you know?”
“The new decor gave you away, guerrieritta.”
I get out of the car and walk inside the house without looking back. “Great. I doubt that will be useful information at a fundraiser but you should know I prefer Glock over Beretta.”
I can’t see him smile, but I feel it all the same.
EIGHT
A QUEEN ON A THRONE
The next day, I’m out with Amber and Nico, meeting with the chairwoman of The West Hill Hospital Burns Department while Andrea and Mike polish his fundraiser speech. The Capaldis have been benefactors for years.
Andrea doesn’t have any pictures of his father in our home and neither he nor Nico spoke of the man who raised them. They don’t need to. While being here, meeting with people of all ages and listening to their stories, I catch a glimpse of what matters to them both, of how they honour his memory. Andrea hides his scars behind a smirk and his careless attitude, but I see him.
His need to be part of something bigger than him, to be in the high spheres of West Hill, I’d bet it stems from a dream he shared with his father, Mario.
My mind’s occupied with thoughts of Andrea as we exit the hospital when we get accosted by a kid no older than fourteen years old, handing me a bouquet of wildflowers. I take it and find a card stapled to the side.
Giulia, beware the company you keep.
My head snaps up to look around us, but the boy already scurried away, probably intimidated by Nico’s dark demeanour.
I don’t like this.
The card looks eerily similar to the one I got after my shopping trip, but it could also be from another person. The carton paper is white and the letters have been typed on a computer, giving nothing away on their sender.
Nico looks over my shoulder at the card and takes the bouquet, throwing it in a garbage bin close by. “This isn’t safe. We need to tell Andrea. Now come on, let’s move.”