Page 15 of Sweet Retribution

I’m too slow. She’s taller than me by five or six inches, or that could be her heels. The woman is stunning. Her hour-glass figure accentuated by her tight pink dress. Her hair is long and falls in perfect beach waves. Her breasts, huge and perky, her eyelashes thick and long, as are her pink nails.

She’s about my age but other than that, I can’t imagine we have anything in common.

Except Stone.

“Well, well, well, who do we have here?” She examines me like a house pet. “I haven’t seen you before? Housekeeper or cook? God knows Maria’s getting up there in age. We could use someone younger in the kitchen. Someone who doesn’t cook with so much butter and fat.”

Maria is barely fifty, if that, and her food is perfect. I don’t take the bait to defend myself or her, and attempt to move past her.

“My god, Stone. You really do need a woman’s touch around here. Your hiring selection process needs some work.”

I don’t turn around. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want him to see my tears. My hair drips down my face, and I’m thankful the water can disguise my tears. I brush past the woman and run up the stairs.

“Sebastiana,” I hear Stone say.

Sebastiana.The woman he was seeing before me. One of the many women he promised to stay away from while we’re married. I make it to my room and close the door with a thud. I race across to the bathroom and peel out of my wet clothes and shoes, and step into the shower, praying the sound drowns out my tears.

It’s not like Stone and I are really married. Legally, yes, but only so he has access to the Parisi estate. I may have made him promise–in writing–that he wouldn’t sleep with any of his women, but it was purely out of revenge, not because I wanted him for myself.

At the time, I didn’t know I’d end up falling for him. I didn’t know I’d end up giving him my virginity. I wanted him to go without sex because he seemed to need it so much, and being married to him would be a punishment for me, so I wanted to punish him as well.

It all backfired. And then some.

Stone got what he wanted: access to the Parisi vineyard. I don’t even care what his plan is with my father or the property. I want nothing to do with either. I want mother’s and my safety ensured, and that’s what Stone had promised me.

Other than me being kidnapped by Antonio while shopping at the farmer’s market, Stone had held to his end of the bargain. Until now.

My tears are stupid and unnecessary. We never promised ourselves to each other. If anything he pushed me away even after I made advances on him. Stone didn’t want me from the beginning.

I hiccup my tears down into my chest. I’m so stupid. I forced myself on him like all the other women, and he begrudgingly complied. Sex means nothing to him. It’s a physical activity.

If only I didn’t have vague memories of him caring for me. Bathing me, holding me, comforting me and promising to take care of me. What was that all about?

I force myself to stop crying and turn off the water. After I dry off, I dress in a pair of comfortable shorts and a loose T-shirt. I don’t plan on leaving my room for the rest of the day.

Or ever, if Sebastiana is going to be around.

Maria has left a tray of food on the table by the balcony door. I take it with me outside and sit on my favorite chair as I breathe in the clean ocean air. Was it really only six weeks ago I contemplated jumping from the edge to escape Stone?

It had been pitch as black and I couldn’t see how high up I was. It’s a sheer drop to rocks below. The waves of the Mediteranean Sea crash up against the rocky coast.

The room had only made me feel trapped for two days, and by then I’d learned I could trust Stone and his staff. They weren’t out to get me or to hurt me. Somewhere along the way I let my feelings get involved, which is never a good thing.

No wonder Stone hides his so well. If people can’t see how you’re feeling, they can’t hurt you. Or at least they won’t know they’re having any kind of power over you. I’ve watched as Stone holds his anger, his fear, his lust, tight to his chest, not revealing an inkling of how he’s feeling.

Showing any kind of emotion gives the other person power. I gave that to Sebastiana today when she confronted me in the hallway. And I gave that to Stone two days ago in the vineyard and again in the gym.

No wonder I’m an emotional basket case. I have no plans to leave my room today, but I refuse to trap myself in here for the remaining twenty-two months of our arrangement. Starting tomorrow, I’ll tuck those feelings away and tear out a page from Stone Parlatore’s book of hiding emotion.

I’m going to show one side of me. A ridiculously over-the-top happy Gia Smith-Parlatore. To the staff, to Sebastiana, to Stone, I’ll appear perfectly content with my messed up life.

I plan on driving him crazy with my give-no-shits happy-go-lucky attitude. Take a bite of that, Stone Parlatore.

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