Page 90 of Destined To Fall

He lifts his gaze to my face, a peculiar look overtaking his as he appraises me.

“I need to change.”

He slowly traces my curves, lingering on some of his favorite parts before he removes his hands.

“I take it you don’t need a hand or two?” I shake my head, unable to say the one little word I’ve never had to say to him before. He gives me a small, crooked smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes like it usually would.“Righto.”

It’s not until he leaves and I take a deep breath that I realize I’d been holding it.Dejected,I sigh and head to my closet, stripping off my gear pronto, not wanting to leave the boys alone longer than I have to. I don’t know what’s going on with me. I’ve never been able to resist Marcus,I’ve never wanted to. But when Jeremy’s around, all it takes is one of his boyish grins, and everything around me fades. Everything except him. He’s all I see, all I feel lately, and I don’t like it. Not one bit.

I rush out of my room to find Marcus rummaging through my cupboards and Jeremy going through my CD collection in the old-school jukebox in the far corner of the room.

“Nothing but stale crackers and dust in those cupboards, Marcus.”

“On the contrary, Vivi, love. I’ve already found this gourmet basket in one of them.”

True enough; on my kitchen island is a gift basket full of god knows what, from god knows where.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” I mutter,coming closer.“Parmigiano Reggiano, oh and Riviera Ligure olive oil, extra virgin of course. Damn, this is the good shit.”

“What’s this?” Marcus asks, coming up beside me and pulling out a rectangular tube-like box.“Trenette?”

“It’s like linguine. How do you not know that? I must have gotten this from Antony at some point. He’s written all over it, but I have no memory of it. This feels imported. It’s not your regular run-of-the-mill supermarket crap.”

“Well, someone’s been doing her job right,” Marcus titters, and I whack him in the stomach.“Ouch. I can definitely whip us up something with this. You got any garlic?”

“Uhh, maybe?”

“Check the rest of the basket,” Jeremy adds helpfully, coming to stand on the other side of the counter.

And sure enough, there are bulbs of garlic, chili flakes, sea salt, black, red and white peppercorns. Some wilted basil, thyme, and rosemary sprigs. Stuffed and marinated olives and feta in jars. But I saved the best for last, the stunning Schiaccetrà sweet wine and the dry Cinque Terre. Antony went all out, and by the looks of it, it all comes from the same region—Liguria. His hometown.

I’m halfway through texting Antony when I feel Jeremy staring at me. I look up to find him burning a hole in my face and shoot him a raised brow.

“Nothing.” I glare at him, and his lip curls up.

“It’s an impressive gift, is all.”

“I’m an impressive kinda woman.”

“Just not in the kitchen,” Marcus interjects behind me with a laugh, forcing me to kick him in the shin.“Ow! So violent, Vee. So feisty.” The look on his face and the blaze in his eyes make it pretty damn clear he’s not just talking about my temper.

I dare not look at Jeremy to confirm he noticed,but ignore them both and finish thanking Antony.

V: Sorry for the late thank you. I only just found the basket in my cupboard. How did it get in my apartment btw?

It takes no time at all for his reply to come through.

A: Your assistant. I had it delivered to her once I returned from my trip. And you’re most welcome.

I smile in response. He’s so crafty, and I had a feeling it all came from Italy…well, maybe not the herbs.

I look up and catch Jeremy’s perturbed expression before he can mask it.

“What?” I almost snap out, my tone a little sharp.

“Does everyone have your address and phone number?”

“What?” My eyes go wide. What a strange question. Jeremy gestures to my phone and the gift basket.“Oh, no. That came via Laura, and he’s the only client with my cell number. It just makes it easier.” I shrug, hoping that’s explanation enough. Not that I need one.

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