Page 79 of Maddest Temptation

“Why are there black boxer briefs on your couch?” Marie sounded calm, but I could hear her loud thoughts.

Mortified, I looked at her. It was a miracle that my face remained calm and composed. “Oh, I didn’t know they were there.” I waved at her dismissively.

“Frankie! Why is there male underwear on your couch? What happened? Are you seeing someone? Are you getting some?” She was equally horrified, confused, and excited.

Heat traveled from my neck all the way to my cheeks. Marie looked at the boxer briefs one more time before settling down. I almost reached to take them from her, but I thought it best to remain where I was.

“It’s his isn’t it?”

“Who’s?” I played dumb. Marie raised one brow and it was all that it took for me to admit it. “I slept with Cassio.”

Her jaw dropped a few inches and her dark eyes widened. “You… Francesca.” She then laughed.

“Slept as in plural,” I added, and Marie squealed. “I feel so guilty.” I added.

Her face morphed into shock. “Why would you be? You’re a twenty-three-year-old gorgeous woman, who spent the last four years of your life in an unhappy marriage.”

“It wasn’t all that bad.” I didn’t know why I still defended him.

“I hated seeing you with that man. I know you owe him a lot and that he helped you through a bad phase, but he hurt you just as much. Paolo watched you suffer, and he watched as you slowly began to fade away and did nothing to stop it. You might hate me for saying it, but Paolo is dead, and you aren’t.”

“Cassio was the last person I should have allowed back into my life.” I argued.

She tilted her head and was silent for a while. “Is it just sex or something more?”

“Just sex,” I said quickly, but when I stopped to think about it, it had turned into more than just that.

“Then you have nothing to worry about.” Marie pointed out simply, as if it was that easy. She didn’t understand the power of Cassio Moretti. “What are you worried about?”

Was it that obvious? “What if he hurts me again?”

Marie’s face softened. “As long as you don’t fall for him, then he can’t hurt you.”

And that was the problem, Cassio was the last person I could allow myself to be happy with. There was no way the words happiness and Cassio could be used in the same sentence. And I hated that lately all I could think about was Cassio.

How he had visited my mother with me. How he had brought me home and fucked me senseless, against the door, then the wall. How he went down on me and ate me up like he was starved. Then he took me to bed and fucked me there, too. Even the kitchen counter wasn’t spared. How he had held my hand at the doctor’s office.

What if I was falling for him? That couldn’t happen, right? Not after he broke my heart and tore it to pieces. How could I ever forgive him? But he was everywhere. Consuming every inch of me and I couldn’t allow that to happen.

I needed to get away from him because I knew Cassio was going to hurt me again, it was not if, but when. I couldn’t dare hope with him because hope was dangerous.

Cassio was addictive.

Stronger than any drug I had ever used, and like any other drug, there was a moment when I would have to come down from that high. So instead of crashing into the bottom of the pit like I usually did, it was best to push him away. To go back to being strangers, it was the only way to save my heart.

I sat on my couch and looked at the clean—box-free—living room. For the first time in three months, I had started and then finished unpacking all those boxes. All my clothes were neatly folded and stored away, my shoes, purses, and makeup, too. This place still didn’t feel like home, but at least now it wasn’t suffocating me as much. I was active and less depressed. My days were blue instead of gray.

My phone rang, and a shiver raced down my back. I had taken two days off from visiting my mother. The hospital was the only place that could be calling me right now. Ever since my doctor’s appointment four days ago, Cassio had vanished. And it was for the better.

“Francesca.” A male voice sounded on the other side. It was hard to identify at first since all I could hear was my pulse. “Francesca?”

“Marco?” How hadn’t I recognized him?

“Can you come to the hospital?”

“Marco, is everything all right?”I shot up, my hands becoming sweaty.

“Francesca, please.”

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