Page 50 of Friends Who Fake It

“Off the hook?”

“From spending a night with me.”

His jaw tightened, like he was grinding his teeth. “I have no issue spending the night with you.”

Willow’s stomach rolled, because that was the last thing she wanted to hear. Talk about damning with faint praise. But what had she expected? A declaration of love?

Yes.At least, that’s what she’d desperately wanted.

“And we had a deal. This is what we do. I played the part for your family?—,”

“And I played the part for yours, in Italy. We’re even.”

“So that’s what this is? You think I’m asking too much of you?”

“Why are you so mad at me?”

“Because you’re acting like I’m the last person you want to be around. You’re acting like this is torture?—,”

It is.The words were on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to hurl them at him, along with the reasonwhyit was torture. She wanted to admit how much he’d come to mean to her. How much she’d come to love him. To need him.

But it would be the death knell to their friendship, and she couldn’t handle that.

She shook her head quickly, to dispel those thoughts and words. “I’m just tired,” she said. “And I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Yeah, well, suddenly, I want to fight with you,” he snapped, and her heart zinged. His emotions were unlike anything she’d ever seen from him. Francesco was always in control, always almost unemotional, except for that week, when his father had died, and he’d showed her that his world had fallen apart.

“Why?” she asked, staring up at him, frowning in confusion. “We don’t fight.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” he said, but instead of fighting, he pulled her into his arms and held her there, just staring down at her. “Fucking hell, Willow, what are you doing to me?” and before she could realise his intention, he was kissing her. Not in a chaste way of greeting, either, but with his whole body, his whole mouth, all of himself, kissing her until she could hardly breathe, and her eyes filled with stars, and the world seemed to be spinning way too fast. Her only option was to cling to him, first to the lapels of his shirt and then, by wrapping her hands around his neck, holding him for dear life.

When he broke the kiss and stared down at her, she had no way of knowing what he was feeling. “This has to end,” he muttered. “You’re right. Leaving is the only way.”

And with no time to even process his words, much less respond, his hand had lifted, and one of London’s famous black cabs swooped in behind them. Francesco reached up and unfastened her hands, keeping them held in his.

“Let’s take some time, before we see each other again. This…doesn’t work.”

Her stomach seemed to roll and clench. She looked away quickly, her pulse washing in her ears, blotting out any other sound. Then, Francesco was moving to the cab and opening the rear door. Before Willow could slink into the backseat, he’d thrown a fifty pound note on the front passenger seat. “The ride’s on me. See the lady gets home safely.”

“Yes, sir,” the cabbie nodded, before pulling into traffic, leaving Willow in the back seat, totally at sixes and sevens, and devastated in a way she’d never in her life known before.

ChapterThirteen

TO SAY HE GLOWERED through the rest of the night was an understatement, but in a testament to how sickeningly happy Rocco and Maddie were in each other’s company, they were too wrapped up in their own little love bubble to notice. Which suited Francesco brilliantly.

After dinner, he caught a cab to a bar, ordered a whisky, and contemplated starting something with one of the many beautiful women he could see. In his experience, it didn’t take much effort to charm someone into coming home with him.

Despite that, just the thought of it seemed to represent a monumental effort, so he polished off his scotch, threw some money on the bar and left again, choosing to walk the kilometre or so to his place rather than hail another cab. He needed to blow off steam.

What he wasn’t expecting, when he got to the front of the building, was to find Raf, leaning against one of the pillars.

“This place is like fucking Fort Knox,” he snapped. “And don’t you ever answer your phone?”

He’d turned it onto flight mode after Willow had left, to stop himself from calling her to explain. The truth was, he had no idea if heneededto explain, or where he’d even start. He just knew he’d messed up tonight, but he couldn’t begin to process why.

“What are you doing here?”

“I got bored of New York.”

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