Page 59 of Giorgio

The silence around the dinner table was fraught with tension. Giorgio would have preferred to have something sent to his room, but he was avoiding his bedroom altogether.

Her floral perfume was still lingering there, and he had gone into one of the drawers to find some underwear he had shoved underneath his one night when he made love to her.

“Have you heard from her?”

“No.” His father’s voice stirred him from the misery he was facing. He had returned from his ride only to shower and change before going back out again. And had spent most of the time at the club, trying to drown his sorrows.

“I know her plane landed sometime in the afternoon.” Giorgio pushed away his barely eaten meal and picked up his wineglass. “Her brother would have picked her up from the airport, I suppose.”

Alfedo wanted to knock some sense into him. How he could be such a bloody cavalier was beyond him. “What now?”

He glanced at his watch. “I have been invited to a yacht party which will commence in an hour.” He grinned. “I intend to be fashionably late.”

“Who the hell are you?” Alfredo’s eyes glittered, his voice raised in anger. “You are going about business as usual? Is that your answer? Go back to the way you were before she came into your life?”

“She didn’t ‘come into my life’ as you put it papa. I knocked her down with my vehicle and she lost her memory. I almost ruined her life and now she is gone. End of story. We were never destined to be together.”

“So, the nights she spent in your room was what? Recreational sex?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“She loves you! How can you be so goddamned stupid that you cannot see that young woman was the best thing that ever happened to you! That letting her go was the worst thing you could ever do. What is it going to take to make you realize that you belong together?”

“Because I am a realist.” Giorgio told him tightly. “Now if you would excuse me, I must be on my way. You know how I adore a good get together.”

Chapter 13

“Two million dollars. That’s quite a payout.” The bitter note in her brother’s voice was not lost on her.

“I don’t think of it like that.” She chided him.

“What else do you call it? Payments for services rendered?” Her reproachful look had him backing down slightly. She had been back for a week now and as much as she tried to put a positive spin on things, he knew that in the privacy of his spare bedroom, she suffered and for that, he wanted to seek out the bastard and strangle him.

And she was still insisting that she was pregnant. He was fervently hoping she wasn’t.

“What are you going to do with the money. It appears you are now a millionaire. Will you be going back in the publishing business?”

She shook her head. “I had an idea when I was in Italy.” She stretched to work out the kinks in her body. She had also spent time doing her research, while waiting for Giorgio to come to his senses.

The articles regarding him were breaking her heart. He was back to his old lifestyle, partying and going out with a different beautiful woman each time. She was not fazed by any of it. She had come to know him and realized what he was doing.

“I want to open a bookstore. I spent so much time in that fantastic library, reading all sorts of literature that I became fascinated. I have even identified the location. On Spring Haven Road, there are some quaint store fronts, and this rather lovely one located between a café and an Italian restaurant is ideal.

It needs a little sprucing up and I intend to do it myself along with a designer. I know exactly what I want and have been writing things down. I even have the name. Le Evasione. It’s Italian for…”

“Escape, get away, I know.” He grumbled. “Unlike you I have an aptitude for languages.”

“Show off.” She laughed at him, and he wondered how she could be so upbeat after that eventful trip that had almost cost her life. It had certainly cost her heart. He knew she was pining for the Italian bastard and refused to talk bad about him. He had threatened to make a call, and she had persuaded him to let it go.

“It’s my situation and I am dealing with it my own way.” She had told him determinedly. He had let it rest, for now.

“You want to open a bookstore.” His skeptical expression had her rolling her eyes.

“Not just any bookstore. Something vintage, with tables and sofas for book clubs, a room for books turned into movies in the afternoons, teas, pastries, discussions, somewhere to escape from the rigors of the world and into adventure, romance, and mystery. I am going to be dedicating a section of the place to creative arts.

Say, a person who likes to make jewelries or do quilting or is excellent at baking pies? I want to encourage them to explore that side, give them the opportunity to shine. I have a bit of pull in the publishing industry, so I can get little known authors to come and do book signing. Things like that.”

His skepticism turned to reluctant admiration. “That’s actually a brilliant idea.”

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