Page 12 of Maddest Temptation

“It doesn’t suit you.” She looked at her nails.

“Nice to know that’s what you think about me,” I pointed out.

“I don’t think about you at all, Cassio.” I turned toward her, and she swirled around to face the window, obviously hiding what I would find written all over her face. Warmth pooled in my stomach at the realization that she still thought about me.

Then guilt followed and so did anger, so I focused on the latter and decided not to think about that further. Thinking about what Francesca was thinking was a double-edged blade, and I was bound to be the one getting both ends of it.

When I stared at her again, she was pale as a ghost, a hand on her stomach and eyes closed. “Are you going to be sick?”

“I can handle it,” she murmured, but it didn’t look like it.

“I swear to God, Francesca, not in my car,” I said, not wanting to sound like an asshole, but my baby was only a week old, and I fucking loved it.

“It’s not my first time,” she snapped. “I’m fine.” The lie that slipped through her mouth was obvious to us both.

Which reminded me why I was so awfully and incredibly pissed with the woman beside me. “Hold on,” I ordered.

I found the nearest diner just in time. Francesca flew from the car not stopping to see if there was anyone else around us in the dimly lit parking lot. She ran toward the bushes wearing nothing but that flimsy dress and my coat. I parked the car and quickly followed, not daring to leave her alone.

Francesca was heaving hard the second I reached her. “Go away,” she barked at me as she leaned downward to throw up again.

“I’m not holding your hair,” I said at the same time.

She managed to look up to glare at me, but nausea pulled her back under, and she didn’t have time to say whatever smart thing I knew was coming out of that mouth.

I stood there beside her, half looking at Francesca, half watching the parking lot from where we stood. When she was done heaving her soul out, she sighed loudly and stumbled backward. I grabbed her arm and steadied her. She was paler than before, her bones trembling.

“Shit.” I cursed as she fought to get away from me. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” I said and escorted her toward the twenty-four-hour diner.

Three tables were filled, but aside from that, the place was fairly empty. The bathroom was at the back of the room, and I held on to Francesca, knowing she could walk on her own but not putting it to the test. The truth was… holding her felt natural, like something my hands were used to from lives past.

“What are you doing?” she snapped as I opened the women’s bathroom door for her and proceeded to follow.

“I don’t need you holding my hair.” She snapped.

“If I let you go, you’re going to pass out.”

“I’m fine.” She pushed me away and I let her go reluctantly, only to watch her stumble toward the sink. She said that a lot I noticed, but I was starting to realize she didn’t say it from the heart.

Closing the door behind me as I retreated from the restrooms, I took the closest booth and ordered a bottle of water and salty chips. By the time Francesca came out of the bathroom, her makeup was less messy, and her long golden hair was tied in a ponytail, offering me a view of her long neck. I shifted trying to accommodate my dick that was constrained by my pants.

“What are we doing, Cassio?” she asked as she took the seat across from me.

“You need water and electrolytes, your blood pressure is too low, and I’m not risking you getting sick inside my car.”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, opened her mouth as if to say something but decided against it. Francesca snatched the bag of chips and popped it open. When had she become so loud? “Eat and drink slowly, or else?—”

“I know, Cassio.” She sighed. “As I said, not my first time.”

This brought me to the matter at hand—or rather a handful of matters we needed to discuss. “Why did you assault a police officer?”

Her jaw dropped and then she quickly picked it up. “It was barely an assault. I kicked his shin when he tried to grab me.”

My nostrils flared, and I ran my thumb under my lower lip trying to control irritability. “Why did he grab you?”

She looked at her hands and then rested against her cushioned seat. My coat was large on her and for some reason, the sight caused my blood to race inside my veins. “I freaked out.” Then she proceeded to tell me parts—because I knew she was hiding the most important bit of the story.

“How the mighty have fallen.” I shook my head.

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