Page 38 of Coerced Kiss
I’ll order Kevin to stay in front of Giorgio’s house. We’ll be out the back and on our way before they catch on. To be on the safe side, we’ll change cars in the underground parking lot of one of Luigi’s clubs. The security is top notch, and the places are swept for bugs and hidden cameras daily.
En route to Giorgio’s place, I use a burner phone to send a message to the pilot, letting him know we’ll take off in an hour.
Giorgio’s housekeeper opens the door when I ring his bell. She shows me to the study and retreats quietly.
The smell of her perfume reaches me before I enter the room. Giorgio leans on the wall next to the fireplace, smoking a cigarette. Rachele stands in the middle of the floor wearing a red dress that hugs her figure and lipstick to match. Her black hair curls over her shoulders.
I turn to Giorgio. “What’s she doing here?”
He shrugs. “She asked me to tell her when you’d be here.”
He should know fucking better. “So, you did?”
Rachele steps forward. “It wouldn’t have been necessary if you answered your phone.”
I pin her with a cool look. “Maybe I don’t answer because I have nothing to say to you.”
“Christ,” Giorgio mutters, rolling his eyes.
Rachele balls her hands at her sides. “There’s a wedding coming up. Elena is getting married.”
“Yes.” My tone is dry. “I got the invitation.”
She scrutinizes me with her dark eyes. “Papa wants you to be there. It’s important for the business with the alliance he’s making with the groom’s family.”
“If Luigi wants me there, I’ll be there.”
She lifts her chin. “I’ll be there.”
“Naturally.” My smile lacks emotion. “Elena is your cousin.”
“With Archibald,” she says with meaning.
“What do you want me to say?” I raise a brow. “Congratulations?”
“Jesus, Sav.” She pulls a face and lifts her hands in that ‘What the fuck?’ manner of hers. “Don’t be such an asshole.”
“Thanks for the heads up, but I don’t give a damn who your plus one is.”
She huffs, lifting her face to the ceiling before looking at me again. “You can’t make a scene.”
I chuckle. “What makes you think I’ll make a scene?”
She pinches her lips into a thin line. “Because you were violent when you came to get your stuff.” She ads with an accusation in her tone, “You threatened him.”
“Did I?”
“Oh, come on. Cut the bullshit. You cleaned the counter with a swipe of your arm, breaking God knows how many plates and glasses. You said you’d stab out his eyes, tear off his limbs, and put his dick through a meat grinder if you ever caught him in the same room as you.”
“Did that frighten the coward? Is that why he’s hiding behind your skirts, sending you to do his bidding?”
“He’s not a coward.” She crosses her arms. “He’s an artist. He’s sensitive.”
“An artist?” I laugh. “Is that what you call those atrocities he finger paints?”
Her reply is defensive. “He’s exhibiting soon.”
“Where? In the upmarket loft his daddy had to buy for him because he doesn’t make a dollar by selling those things he tries to pass as paintings?”