Page 15 of ‘I Do’ for Revenge

Flora’s head was starting to throb. When Sofia had left, she explored the suite, and the lure of the luxurious marble bathroom was too much. She stripped off and stepped into a shower the size of a room and almost groaned with pleasure as steaming hot water sluiced down over her body.

She hadn’t experienced this level of a shower in months, or actually ever, because the plumbing in the Gavia palazzo had been about the same age as the palazzo. So this was...heaven. She even succumbed to the lure to wash her hair, an epic feat at the best of times.

When her aunt had first seen her hair in all its natural glory when she’d been a child, she’d been so horrified that she’d made sure that it was always straight, ensuring Flora was subjected to rigorous hair-drying and straightening by a member of staff at least once a week.

When Flora emerged from the bathroom, swathed in a robe and with a towel wrapped around her head, she lay on the bed, promising herself she’d just have a quick rest before she finished drying off. But then her eyes closed and the throbbing in her head finally stopped and everything went blissfully dark and quiet.

Vito was pacing back and forth on his terrace. The dog had been returned to the apartment and was now sniffing on the terrace, stopping to wee on a plant every now and then. It had started howling when it had realised Flora was nowhere to be seen and so Vito had risked a bite, scooping the animal up into his arms, to try and keep him quiet. The dog had looked at him suspiciously for a long moment, nose twitching, and had then promptly curled into a ball in his arms. Until he’d squirmed to be put down again.

Vito’s head was reeling.

Was Flora telling the truth?

His gut told him the answer. Why on earth would she have gone to such elaborate lengths on the off chance she’d run into him again to play on his sympathies?

He hadn’t even been due to attend that function earlier. It had been a last-minute decision, purely because he’d wanted to check on how the hotel was doing.

Everything he’d learned this evening made a kind of sick sense based on how Flora had behaved in his office that day.

The day you stood her up in public.

His conscience pricked.

She’d been shocked. Bewildered. And then, stoic when leaving. Not hinting for a second that she was walking out into...nothing.

So, was she really a victim of her uncle too? If so, then Vito had done her a serious injustice.

He left the puppy momentarily to go to Flora’s room. The door was ajar and he pushed it open. For a second he couldn’t see her but then he made out a shape on the bed and went in further.

She was on top of the covers, in a robe. A towel half on, half off her head. Dark brown and golden curly strands escaping. Her chest was softly rising and falling. One bare leg was exposed. Pale. Long and shapely.

Vito’s pulse tripped. He felt like a voyeur. A little flash of something white and grey and brown streaked past his feet.

The dog.

It had obviously followed her smell and was now trying to jump up onto the bed. It was too high.

The dog looked at Vito with huge pleading eyes. Vito cursed and scooped it up and put it on the bed, where it went and curled straight into Flora’s side, into a little ball of fluff.

Vito walked back out of the room before she could wake and witness him staring at her as if he’d never seen a woman before.

Flora Gavia was already exposing him in ways he’d never anticipated and, as much as he trusted that this wasn’t some elaborate ruse, he definitely wasn’t letting her out of his sight until he knew for sure.

CHAPTER FOUR

WHENFLORAWOKEshe felt as if she was emerging from the deepest and most peaceful sleep she’d ever had. When she opened her eyes she had to squint. It was bright daylight. Her phone was on a nightstand beside the bed and she looked at it and jackknifed up to sitting, the damp towel falling off her head. She groaned. She could only imagine what state her hair was in.

It was lunchtime. Later than she’d ever slept in her life. And she was in Vittorio Vitale’s apartment. In his guest room. And where was Benji?

She got up and washed herself and pulled on a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt. She couldn’t do much with her hair so she just pulled it back into a bun.

She left the room and made her way down corridors, eventually emerging into the living room. She saw French doors open and heard an excited yapping. She followed the sound to see a young man in a suit throwing a ball for Benji. The man looked up and went red. She recognised him as the man who’d admitted her to Vittorio’s office on the wedding day. ‘Miss Gavia, I’m Tommaso, Signore Vitale’s assistant. I’ll let him know you’re up. He’s in his home office.’

He’d fled before Flora could say anything and Benji was running around her feet excitedly. She picked him up and snuggled him close. She frowned then as a half-memory, half-dream returned. Had Benji been on the bed with her last night? And had someone come to take him that morning?

Flora thought of Vittorio coming into the room and seeing her sprawled on the bed in complete disarray and a flush of heat climbed through her body. And of course he chose that moment to appear in front of her, when her face was glowing like a beacon.

He was dressed in black trousers and a light blue shirt, top button open. He said, ‘You must be hungry. Let’s have lunch. Tommaso will take Benji out for a walk.’