Page 47 of ‘I Do’ for Revenge
‘So if I wasn’t with her, or in a relationship, then you wouldn’t want to invest in my company?’
‘It might seem old-fashioned but you’re a much more solid bet for me if you have cares and responsibilities outside yourself. I don’t think you’re letting that woman go any time soon, are you?’
Vito thought of letting Flora go, of not having her near him, in his bed, and he felt dizzy. It receded quickly. He just wasn’t done with her, that was all. So he could honestly respond by saying, ‘No.’
At that moment Carrie appeared by her husband’s side and Vito caught an inkling of what Black was saying when husband and wife looked at each other with such intimacy that he felt as if he was intruding.
He cleared his throat. ‘Wasn’t Flora with you?’
Carrie looked around. ‘She was. She just—Ah, there she is.’
Flora approached from behind Vito and he took in her face. There was something about her expression that made him look twice. She was pale. Her smile was forced. He reached for her hand but she was holding her clutch bag. He frowned but had to respond to Massimo Black, who was saying to Vito, ‘I’ll have my assistant set up a meeting before you leave London?’
Vito smiled. ‘Yes, that’d be good.’
Carrie smiled at them both. ‘Goodnight, hope to see you again soon.’
The warmth between the women was genuine and Vito had a sense again of how it could be to have someone by his side who could enhance his life in ways he’d never considered before. As Massimo Black had said, if he weren’t with Flora, Massimo wouldn’t have considered working with him.
And wasn’t this what he’d set out to achieve by having her by his side? He’d just never expected that she would be so effective. The other couple had walked away. Vito glanced at Flora and now she looked a little green. He took her arm. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I have a bit of a headache.’
‘Do you want to go?’
She nodded. ‘Maybe, if that’s okay. You don’t have to go. I can get a taxi.’
A sense of disquiet filling Vito now, he said, ‘No, it’s okay. Massimo Black was the person I wanted to speak to and I have. We can go.’
They walked outside and Vito’s driver met them. The journey back to the hotel was in silence. Not like Flora not to be chattering. Vito didn’t like it. When they got to the suite, Flora didn’t meet his eye. She said, ‘I think I’ll go to bed in the guest room, so I don’t disturb you.’
Vito was pulling off his bow tie. ‘Flora, are you sure it’s just a headache? Do you need a doctor?’
She shook her head quickly, her hair moving around her shoulders. ‘No, it’s not that bad, I’ll take some painkillers and go to sleep. I’m sure I’ll be fine in the morning.’
Vito told himself he was overreacting. He said, ‘Okay, goodnight,’ and watched Flora slip off her shoes before walking out of the room, Benji trotting loyally at her heels. He felt the urge to trot after her.
He realised that he and the dog weren’t all that different. He scowled at the notion and turned away, going to the drinks cabinet to help himself to a shot of whiskey, ruminating on the potential deal with Massimo Black and the fact that having Flora in his life was central to that development.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FLORAHATEDTELLINGwhite lies. She didn’t have a headache. She had heartache, and there was no painkiller for that. She lay in bed for a long time staring up at the ceiling.
She’d overheard the exchange between Massimo Black and Vito, a fluke of hearing her name mentioned and being screened behind a plant. She’d practically heard the cogs turning in Vito’s head as he’d all but assured Massimo Black that he was in a committed relationship with Flora.
But then, Flora could hardly blame Vito. At the start of this...unorthodox arrangement, he’d admitted that being seen to be in a relationship would be good for his profile, and also for hers, to restore some of the dignity he’d stripped her of when leaving her standing in that vestibule at the church.
And she knew how important Massimo Black was. If he invested in Vito, it would send him onto another level. The kind of level where his name and business would be immortalised.
Flora wouldn’t deny him that. She loved him. She wanted him to succeed. But she also knew that she couldn’t continue to harm herself by pretending things hadn’t changed, for her. Because she’d fallen for him. She knew Vito wouldn’t welcome that, no matter what kind of deal hung in the balance.
Or maybe she was being supremely naive, maybe the ruthlessness she’d seen on that day of the wedding would reappear and he’d have no problem continuing an affair while knowing she was in love with him.
But was she really contemplating telling him? Potentially having him end things, or, worse, being prepared to have him ask her to stay for the sake of his career? Either scenario made her feel nauseous.
Flora couldn’t sleep. One thought dominated over everything. It was the more probable likelihood that Vito would end things if he knew how she felt. The thought that tomorrow could be the last day she would see him. Because if she told him, once he knew, that would be it. Galvanised by a cold dread settling her body, Flora got out of the bed and padded through the suite, lit only by moonlight.
She pushed open Vito’s bedroom door. He was sprawled on the bed, bare-chested, sheets tangled around his waist, as if he’d been thrashing in his sleep. Something squeezed in Flora’s chest.