Page 73 of Fight Me Little Pearl

I smile shyly. “See you at eight, Signore Barone.”

He chuckles. “Now that I’ve seen you smile again, I can go.”

I gaze at him in wonder. How can a man so feared be so… kind and generous with me? He is so sweet it hurts. I help him button up his shirt and gently push him towards the door.

“Go before I start getting horny.”

“You’re sending your husband out of the door without a kiss?”

“Okay. But just one.” I stand on the tips of my toes to kiss his lips lightly, but he holds me tightly against him and deepens it. He kisses me so passionately I lose myself in the splendor of it. Time stops existing until he pulls away.

“Remind me again why I have to go,” he asks gruffly.

For a couple of seconds, I can only blink at him. I was so swept up I don’t even know where I am. Then I shake my head and with a laugh, push him out of the door and shut it. I lean my back against the door and listen until his laugh and his footsteps die away in the corridor. The room is suddenly too quiet, and I’m about to turn on the TV when my phone rings. I pick it up, and my blood runs cold when I see Thomas’s name flashing on the screen.

My gaze darts to the closed door before glancing back at the screen. Thomas has never been bold enough to call me. Why is he doing so now?

Throughout our relationship, he always waited until I called because he knew what a monster my father was. Even during our physical meetups he was always looking over his shoulder, scared out of his wits.

The phone stops ringing and I fling it away, breathing a sigh of relief. But I’ve hardly finished that breath when the ringing starts again. I turn the screen up and when I see Thomas’s name I press accept the call in a panic.

“Hello?”

“Francesca?” he calls softly.

“Thomas,” I whisper.

“You didn’t get my text?” he asks, his voice laced with hope.

“I did.”

“Oh.” He pauses for a little while. “Why didn’t you respond?”

“Because I was with myhusband, Thomas.”

I hold my breath and tighten my fingers around the phone as I wait for Thomas to answer. My eyes keep darting to the door, scared that any moment now, it’ll fly open, and Valentino will walk in, demanding why I’m on the phone with my ex. I don’t know how to feel about the fact that I’m more anxious about Valentino’s feelings than Thomas's. “Your husband?” Thomas sounds confused. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

I don’t want to discuss Valentino with Thomas. “What do you want, Thomas?”

“Really?” he growls, then follows it with a huge sigh. “Francesca…”

I say nothing. Something has definitely changed inside me. I find myself wanting to end this call. I feel like telling him it would be better if he never called again. He had his chance and he blew it. There was no going back on this one.

“You’ve fallen in love with him, haven’t you?”

“No,” I say instinctively, but more to myself than to Thomas. I cannot be in love with Valentino. It is impossible. No one falls in love with someone this quickly. I am just in lust with him. Yes, I love his kisses and touches, but there’s no way I’m in love with the man. Anxiety presses into my chest like a heavyweight.

“I saw him at the church that day, Francesca. He’s… I won’t blame you if you want him now. I just want the truth,” he insists.

“The truth is he’s my husband, Thomas,” I answer, feeling a sudden burst of annoyance. “Whether you like it or not, I’m married to him and I made my vows in the house of God.”

“Does this mean you don’t plan on leaving him after two years like what you promised me you would?”

The question throws me. I can’t believe I said those things. It was another time. Another world. I was another person.

When I don’t respond immediately, Thomas asks again, his voice filled with pain. “You told me to wait for you, Francesca. For two years. Am I wasting my time? Or will you come back to me?”

“Yes of course, I’ll come back to you” is the answer he is waiting for, and I should have been able to say it to him. I did make that promise and he’s the good guy, the man I’ve always wanted because he represents something different from the world of violence that I was born and raised in.

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