Page 32 of Isle of Seduction

“For what?” Nico asks.

“Don’t you worry your pretty head with that, cugnatu.”

My mind is filled with possibilities. I don’t know a single thing about permits here, but I know who does. Jane Lewis. The woman is about ten years older than me and delightful.

West Hill doesn’t have a house of sin. If I play my cards right, anyone who’s important in the city will come here to indulge, and hopefully spill their secrets. Even Addams might fall right into my trap.

“I’ll make an offer,” I say, smiling.

Three days later, the broker and I sign the contract and the building is mine. My first step is to register it as a nightclub at the council, Jane helping me with the paperwork, giving us the perfect opportunity to grow closer.

This place might be for me, but killing two birds with one stone sounds like exactly what I’d do.

It takes weeks to fill in all the administrative forms, but within a month, renovation work will start.

I’m no architect but I have a good idea of what I want to accomplish and so I draw my ideal plans. Rouge will be born soon. All types of rumours and information circulate at clubs like this. Dancers are the ears I need on the ground, just like I did on Kalliste. The elections are in seven months, but I’m sure I can open within four or five. Hopefully by then, Addams will be too curious and give me all I need to uncover his shady dealings.

* * *

I’m deep into colour coordination and timeline planning, a warm wool sweater swallowing me to chase off the late October chill, when Andrea finds me cross-legged on the floor of my bedroom.

It’s been almost three weeks since the fundraiser and our heated kiss and the hottest orgasm I’ve ever had, and up until this very moment, I could have almost forgotten he existed. Almost being the key word because he’s formidable in his dark jeans and the white tee that stretches across his chest, black and white tattoos of an angel and a demon in a sensual embrace, laurel leaves and snakes and skulls on display on his arms. It’s a V-neck today, a few chest hair visible under the medaillon he never removes, and it’s not fucking fair how my eyes trace the plane of his body until they get ensnared by the hazel colour that burns with an intensity I don’t want to examine too quickly.

I know he’s been avoiding me, just entering my space when I’m asleep, leaving early and coming home late. I’ve had girl dinners for weeks and I can’t live on bread sticks, cheese and coffee any longer.

I frown, realising I miss my husband’s home-cooked meals.

He licks his lips and I’m thrown back to that evening when he kissed me with a dominance that left me weak at the knees.

“Can I help you?” I sass.

“Just admiring my wife.”

“We’re alone, Capaldi. You don’t need to pretend here.” I avert my gaze because I’m not sure what is worse, the confirmation it’s just all pretend or that it’s not.

“Who says I’m pretending, guerrieritta?”

Fuck.

“Cut the shit and leave me alone, I’m busy.”

“I see that. What are you planning?”

He comes to sit down next to me and there’s something so vulnerable in a strong man sitting on the floor without a care in the world. I swallow hard, set my shoulders back and lay out my plan for Rouge.

“It’s a brilliant idea, Giulia,” he says my name so rarely, the word melting on his tongue like a delicacy. “Do you have cashflow predictions?”

“Not yet, but that’s next. Maybe for tomorrow, my eyes are watering from looking at my screen all day.”

“Mmm. And estimate for the renovations?”

“I don’t fucking know, Andrea, I bought the place two weeks ago. I can’t do everything all at once.”

I don’t know why I yell. It’s not like it’s unreasonable for him to ask. I did spend a quarter million pounds of his money after all. I just know I’ll need to justify my decisions, like I’ve always had.

“Sweetheart, I’m asking just to know how much you need me to retrieve from our accounts. Nothing more,” he says with an even voice.

“Oh.”

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