Page 41 of Sweet Retribution

CHAPTER EIGHT

If Rossi doesn’t makea move soon, the stone cold facade I’ve worn for more than a decade is going to crack. It’s getting harder and harder to keep my emotions in check. Hell, I’ve been tamping them down for almost half my life, and now, days away from fulfilling my life-long vengeance, I’m going to blow it.

I pace my study, then step out onto the veranda. Fresh air sometimes does the trick, but not when I can smell Gia. The flowers blooming around me have the same scent as the shampoo she uses.

I don’t like distractions. I don’t like surprises. And Gia crossing the lawn to me is the worst of both, and the best.

“Hi,” she says when she’s only a few feet from me.

I don’t react and keep my footing, even though I want to reach for her, touch her soft skin, and fold her into my arms. It angers me that she has such a hold over my thoughts.

“Okay.” She nods and lets out a sigh. “I need to ask you something, and I need an honest response.”

I slide my hands into my front pockets to avoid reaching for her. My silence irritates her. It always has. Good. I need her angry at me.

“I’m not mad at you.”

Or not.

I steady my breath and keep my attention off her bare neck. I love when she wears her hair up high on her head, exposing her skin.

“I understand why you don’t want me in... that room, and I appreciate you treating me with more respect than the women you bring there.”

Okay, this wasn’t going in the direction I thought it would.

She moves closer, stepping up onto the stone patio. “Stone,” she says my name with tenderness.

Tension in my core keeps me stiff, and my cock is on its way to join my erect attention. I make fists in my pockets, again, reminding myself not to touch. At least I have control of my mouth, which stays shut.

Gia places a hand on my chest, and I hold my breath hoping she can’t feel my erratic heartbeat.

“None of this is your fault.”

Again, she surprises me. My fingers dig into the palm of my hand and I avert my attention to the vineyards over her shoulder.

“You can’t blame yourself for any of this. I wish you’d see yourself as I see you. As a hero.”

“I’m not a hero,” I snap. She makes me do this. Snap. Speak without thinking.

“You are to me. You rescued me from Antonio, you nursed me back to health. You’re keeping me safe here, and my mother safe in the most beautiful home with the most caring staff in New York.”

“I have the money so it’s no big deal.” Again, my mouth moves before I give it permission.

She places a second hand on my chest and looks up at me with soulful, amber eyes. “It’s more than money, Stone. You care. You may not want to, but you do.”

It’s the first thing she’s gotten right. I’m not sure why the sudden turn in her attitude. A few days ago, I had her nearly begging for me to touch her, then she suddenly turned cold and pushed me away.

Last night, I said more hurtful words to her. My cheek still stings from where she slapped me. A slap which I completely deserved.

“You’re not to blame for my kidnapping, or for Antonio Rossi’s actions. They have nothing to do with you and everything to do with the terrible deal my... Lorenzo made with him. Yousavedme, Stone.”

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