Page 21 of Maddest Temptation

“No, but it doesn’t really matter, the deal is done.”

“Frankie.” She reached for my hand. “What can we do?”

My heart broke at her use of the word ‘we.’ She was my friend through thick and thin. “Wait,” I said in defeat.

“Don’t.” She shook me. “You can’t give up like that.”

There was nothing to be done. Donato had already chosen my next husband, and once again, I had no choice in the matter. It was all a transaction between the buyer and seller. I was the product… cattle.

“We’ll figure a way out of this. There must be a way out of it,” she said with determination.

I could see the wheel in her head spinning as she tried to figure out a way to free me from yet another arranged marriage. We both knew it was futile because there was no way out, yet I didn’t have the heart or the courage right then to tell her that.

I nodded, lacking her conviction for positive thinking.

“Promise me you won’t give up.’ She squeezed my hand.

“I’ll try.”

“Francesca,” she scolded me. “You’re going to be happy and free by the end of this year. Mark my words. Trust me on this, I know what I’m saying.”

I chuckled. Not to be a pessimist or anything, but I had experienced happiness and it had ended in heartbreak, the kind that had me searching for those broken pieces years after the damage was done.

Happiness was perhaps a stretch, but freedom… I wanted that above all else. To be able to wake up in the mornings and not have to worry about doing or saying the right things all the time. To be free to choose what clothes to wear and who to be. Freedom to laugh, to shout, to cry, and to remain silent when I damned well pleased.

Most importantly, it was freedom from this act, this character I was playing and didn’t know how to stop. An actress was what I had become, and I didn’t know how to let go of her.

“We’ll figure this out,” Marie said again, this time softer.

“Yeah,” I agreed but didn’t dare get my hopes up.

6

CASSIO

Iparked my car before the building in the West Loop and looked upward. From down here, I couldn’t see a thing, other than a few lights flashing from one of the apartments, the penthouse to be more specific. I’d changed into more casual clothes for the night, donning a pair of old jeans, a white dress shirt and my second favorite coat, since my other one was currently with Francesca. I wondered if she still snuggled her nose against the collar to inhale my scent. She’d done that a couple of times, I’d noticed, while driving her home.

Unsure why I was thinking about Francesca again—oh yes, my coat—I grabbed it from the back seat and put it on. I made my way into the luxurious lobby and offered my name to the receptionist who let me through without a fuss. Inside the elevator, I stared at the doors and adjusted my sleeves. I hated these gatherings. Always had. I had never been one for small talk. I enjoyed that people often thought me to be unapproachable.

When the elevator finally arrived, I breathed in through my nose and let the air out slowly. Despite my obese bank account, I was a very private man, keeping from the tabloids and the media. The only events I actually enjoyed attending were charity galas, but that was only so I could flaunt my money in the faces of those politicians who thought themselves better than me.

Vitelli’s ‘small’ party was anything but, then again, my brother never did anything half-assed—he enjoyed the scene, the loud voices, and the music. He thrived in environments like these. I was almost suffocated by the cacophony of voices in the room. As I watched my surroundings—always aware of where I was—I noticed most of the faces I knew were members of the Outfit.

Meandering through the crowd, and for the hundredth time wondering what the hell I was doing there, I searched for my brother.

Vitelli wasn’t hard to find as a circle of people had formed around him. I stopped short in my tracks as I spotted the woman beside him.

Marie LeRoy was not who I expected her to be. She barely reached my brother’s shoulder even though she was wearing blood red heels. Her hair was tied in a slick ponytail, her makeup clean and natural. Her clothes were elegant and chic, wearing a dress that hugged her petite form and landed just below her knees. She was every bit the woman I would never have imagined my brother would date.

Not because she wasn’t beautiful — she was, with almond-colored eyes and a beauty mark right above her red lips—but because this was not the kind of woman I had seen my brother with. They were usually… escorts or women he picked up at our clubs.

After my initial shock, I made my way toward the couple, not once failing to notice that my brother had his arm wrapped around her in a possessive manner that warned every man in the near vicinity that she was his. I couldn’t help the ghost of a smile that graced my face. Vitelli was so lost in her, he didn’t even realize how pussy whipped he’d become. My brother was now taken, and that was hilarious.

The moment he saw me, he pushed through two men surrounding him and pulled Marie along, cutting the conversation short. “Vitelli.” I extended my hand, and my brother grabbed my forearm in greeting.

“Brother, this is Marie?—”

“Pretty much figured,” I said, nodding towards Vitelli’s hand on hers.

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