Page 34 of Sweet Retribution

CHAPTER SEVEN

The air shifted betweenStone and I as soon as we left the gala. I was worried he’d be angry at me for messing up his plans. He’d told me to be quiet and follow his lead. One look at the Sandra bitch and there was no way I could keep mum.

The first time I’d spotted her in my house I’d thought nothing of it. Lorenzo had an army of men and women–mostly men–come in and out of the house. They paid no attention to mother or I, and we paid none to them.

The blonde woman had set me on alarm when I saw her leave Lorenzo’s study, her clothes not quite the same as when she’d entered. I wasn’t too young to understand what went on behind closed doors.

I’d always suspected Lorenzo had affairs, but never expected them to be so open, or under our roof. The fact that my mother turned a blind eye and never hinted she was aware made me second guess what I’d seen.

Until Sandra Beckam came by more frequently, and sometimes with Antonio Rossi. They appeared to be a couple, locked arm in arm, and I’d even walked in on them with their hands all over each other.

I’d been so embarrassed I’d fled and hid in my room for hours. I didn’t think they’d noticed me. I had been relieved to see them together. It meant the blonde woman wasn’t having an affair with my father, and it meant–so I thought–Antonio’s attention wouldn’t be on me anymore.

I’d been wrong on so many levels.

The limo comes to a stop and Stone gets out, holding a hand for me. I take it as I carefully stand on my heels. He doesn’t drop my hand as we make our way to the front door. The chemistry between us is undeniable.

It’s obvious Stone wants me on a carnal level, and I can’t help the way my body reacts to his response. I stumble slightly on a pebble and he grips my elbow, pulling me close to his side.

It’s a scene out of a movie with the moon shining bright over us. The damsel in distress tangled in her hero’s arms. Only I’m not a damsel, I’m not in distress, and Stone isn’t a hero.

His blue eyes lock with mine. Our mouths are close, but they won’t touch. They’ve never touched except for that brief moment at our farce of a wedding. I’ve never asked him about it but he refuses to kiss me for some reason. I hope it has nothing to do with me and is just one of those Stone things.

I lick my lips and his gaze drops to my mouth. I want this. A magical kiss under the moonlight. His hand splayed on my back, where it had been the entire time at the gala. On my skin.

“You’re not wearing any undergarments,” he says in a strained whisper.

I give a slow shake of my head. “The dress... you could see the lines.”

“I like the dress.”

“You bought it,” I remind him.

“I like what’s under the dress more.”

His erection rubs hard and erotic against my stomach. I can't help the slight tilt of my pelvis as I push into him. Intoit.

“Christ.” He closes his eyes, and I feel his fingers burn into my flesh. When he opens them again, he leans closer to me. Our lips only a whisper apart.

It’s going to happen. Our first kiss. Under the romantic shine of the moon. I shouldn’t want this but I’m under the hypnotic spell of the night. He bends lower and whispers my name.

“Gia.”

“You’re finally home,” Sebastiana calls loudly behind us.

I jump out of Stone’s arms and am instantly ashamed of myself for falling into lust with him. I’m not the kind of girl who sleeps around. Hell, Stone is the only man I’ve ever had sex with, and he’s been with more woman than he has grapes in his vineyards.

Who am I to fool myself into thinking I may mean something to him? I bend down and take off my shoes, carrying them in one hand, and run up the stairs.

“You look hot in that dress,” Sebastiana says. “Have a good time in the back of the limo, did ya?”

How can a woman not be jealous of another? I’m not meant for this life, to share lovers, to pretend like I can have sex without an emotional attachment.

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