Page 26 of Maddest Temptation

“No,” I answered all too quickly. “I used to know him.”

“He seems intent on getting to know you again,” Antoine pointed.

“I’m not interested,” I said plainly, but once more a bit too quick for my liking.

True. I had suffered greatly because of him, and four years later I still had some open wounds that refused to heal and scarred me deeply. I didn’t want to get involved with Cassio ever again. If he was the last man left on earth and I was the last woman, humanity would end with the both of us.

“Four months is a long time to be celibate,” Antoine—who did not know the meaning of celibacy—said.

“Antoine,” I chided. “I just lost my husband.”

He rolled his eyes. “Paolo is dead, not you. Stop pretending as if your life ended when his did.” Antoine had never been a fan of Paolo’s and he liked making that clear. “If you want to sleep around then just do it. No one is going to judge you.”

But they would. He might know about the Outfit, but he wasn’t a part of it. Antoine did not understand that in my world, women did not fuck around. The only man they had sexual relationship with was their husbands—when it pleased them to do so.

This time when I did look back, Cassio was gone, and so was the woman in his arms. Unconsciously, my eyes searched the party, but I didn’t catch sight of them. A flicker of something a lot like hatred stirred within, and I let it fester for a while. Four years was a long time to overcome our breakup. People didn’t even know we had dated, but it still felt like a punch to the stomach.

One thing was to know he was fucking around, and another was witnessing it. I despised how that made me feel little. Cassio always had all the power to manipulate me in his hands, that hadn’t changed. Four years later, and I was the one running away with my tail tucked between my legs while he walked with his head held high. Four years and it still stung watching him flirt with another woman.

Why do you care if he’s with other women. You should be happy, at least he’s not bothering you.

I left Antoine and headed outside. The chilly night air kissed my skin, and I warded it off by hugging myself. It was too cold out here, but it was better than staying in there knowing Cassio and that girl were somewhere in there doing God knew what.

“Francesca?”

I turned around and found that none other than Gianluca Gallo was walking toward me. He hadn’t changed much since the last time I saw him at my wedding. He had been my older brother Savio’s best friend, and his father was Donato’s right-hand man, Enzo. We had grown up together, I hadn’t liked him then, and I had a feeling nothing had changed much.

“Gianluca Gallo,” I greeted, giving him a polite smile, although this wasn’t a pleasant surprise.

“I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“I could say the same,” I returned.

“Sorry about your husband. It is not really a surprise though, the man was ancient,” he said plainly.

It wasn’t a jab or a joke. Gianluca was never a sensible man. He spoke what came to mind, and he didn’t care what people thought about him.

“I’ve heard you’re practically married,” I changed the subject.

He chuckled and shook his head. “Nah, we’re just fucking around.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t what I had heard. The poor girl was in for a heartbreak.

But I couldn’t really blame her, could I? Not when I had fallen for a man who made me fall for him and then threw me away like I was trash.

I reached for the bottle of water I’d brought with me, took a few gulps, and then closed it. Needing something to do with my hands. The alcohol was still in my system, but it was slowly releasing its claws from my mind.

We both stood there in awkward silence, and I didn’t know what to do or say. He had never been my favorite person. He had been my brother’s friend, never mine, therefore, I never made an effort to talk to him. Gianluca’s eyes roamed over my body and an uncomfortable sensation coursed through me.

“You’ve grown.”

“It’s the natural process of life,” I said simply and watched as he settled his hand inside his jacket pockets and that’s when I saw a pack of cigarettes. “You smoke?” I asked.

“I’m trying to stop. You?”

“Yes, to smoking, and no to the stopping.” I hadn’t had one of those in years.

I didn’t like the taste of it in my mouth, or the smell that remained on my fingers. In fact, I didn’t like it at all, but I needed something to do, and smoking seemed like a good idea.

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