Taunting me toward the darkness, wanting something I know that I shouldn’t.
I keep seeing Giuliano’s face fall when Marcel told him about our engagement, the way his eyes searched mine as if he didn’t believe it.
I feel bad, but I shouldn’t, because he isn’t the man I once loved anymore. He’s a gangbanging criminal, and if the truth be known we would never work out even if we were able to be together. We’re two different people now, our lives in different universes.
He probably doesn’t even care.
I remember the way he used to love me, the way he held me in his arms after we made love as if I was the most precious thing in the world.
The feelings of closeness between us.
My eyes fill with tears because I know that time is gone forever.
The reality is, that maybe the memory is so special simply because he was my first love, everything is so exaggerated in my mind. Everyone talks about their first love as being special. I know it’s just that, but damn it, I wish I would hurry up and forget. Why do I compare everything and everyone to him?
Why does it always come back to him?
I snuggle into Marcel’s back and my mind goes to Giuliano again, I get a vivid memory of him going down on me, I let myself sink into a happy feeling of home as I rewatch Giuliano’s tongue lick me up. His eyes on mine, my hand tenderly in his.
The way he loved me so completely.
Stop it.
What in the hell is wrong with me? I have a wonderful man sleeping beside me and I need to get my act together or I am going to lose him too…and then what?
Somewhere down the track I realize that I can never have Giuliano anyway and I live my entire life alone without children. I would be forced to watch him take a wife and give her the family that I desperately wanted. Watch him bring up his children as their aunt, always secretly in love with their father from the sideline.
No.
I need to cut this out, I can’t let myself go down this path. It’s destructive and damn well toxic. I already feel the heartache before it happens and I need to snap myself out of it, this is bad for both of us. Giuliano is better off…I am better off without him.
What I need to do is go back to France and concentrate on Marcel and my work and my life there. I have a wedding to plan.
I need to forget all about Giuliano Ferrara.
I roll over and nestle into the blankets to try to get into a good sleeping position, I close my eyes and once again I see Giuliano’s hauntingly beautiful face.
If only it were that easy.
“Are you ready, darling?” Marcel asks.
We are just about to go out to breakfast, we fly back to France tonight. “Yes, hang on, I’ll grab my phone off charge.” I walk into the bedroom and pick up my phone to notice I have an email from my boss.
Hi Francesca,
Sorry to interrupt your weekend, I hope it’s a great one.
Great news.
I’ve just had confirmation that the first hotel we are working on will be in Rome.
The perfect setting!
They want to have a meeting on Wednesday this week to go over the plans and timeframes. Feel free to work from home on Monday and Tuesday to prepare the spreadsheets if you like.
Looking forward to Wednesday,
Safe travels,
Pierre
Shit.
I exhale heavily.
Don’t give me extra time to get home, I need to get out of Italy ASAP. I click out of my phone in disgust.
“Are you coming?” Marcel calls.
“On my way.” I grab my coat and purse and make my way out. “Let’s go eat, I’m starving.”
The thing about the human mind is that it reconciles your bad choices. Musters up some kind of excuse for you to justify your upcoming mistakes.
I know I should leave it, there are words between Giuliano and me that need to be left unsaid. I sip my coffee and stare into space, if I stayed here for another day. I could go see him.
Just…to see if he’s okay.
I mean, his mother just died and he did come around to see me the other day but I was going out. He probably had to tell me something urgent and then I didn’t call back. It would be rude not to check in on him.
Masochist.
But honestly, I really should at least tell him about the porn on that website, he would be horrified if he knew it was up there. One of those stupid girls uploaded it without his permission, I’m sure of it.
He needs to know, the very least I can do is to tell him, that way, he can get it taken down and then he will know what kind of girls they are.
Yes, I should do that, and not as an ex-girlfriend but just as a friend.
Masochist.
“So, I got an email from my boss this morning.” I say to Marcel casually.
“What did he have to say?”
“The first hotel is Rome.”
“Ah.” He raises his coffee cup in a cheers symbol. “Oh la la, beautiful.”
I smile. “Pretty exciting.” I sip my coffee. “I have to be there on Tuesday, my boss thinks I should just fly there tomorrow straight from here so I can prepare,” I lie.
What am I doing?
His forehead crinkles. “Oh.”
“Would you be alright flying home…by yourself?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I’ll get the plane,” I offer.
“No, no. I’ll catch commercial. No bother.”
“Are you sure?” I frown.
“Of course.” He smiles warmly. “This contract is a big deal for you.” He takes out his phone and gets online to book a flight as I watch on.
I’m a terrible person.
Just go with him to France…do not go and see Giuliano.
He goes through the motions, “Done. I’m on the four p.m. flight.” He smiles up at me. “See, easily done.”
I take his hand over the table. “Sorry.”
I really am sorry…about everything.
“That’s okay, darling, you can make it up to me when you get home. I think we should move in together, it’s a natural step in our relationship now that we are getting married, and we have a big wedding to plan.” He winks playfully.
My face falls before I catch it and quickly fake a smile. “Talk about it when we get home, hey?”
God.
This is the nightmare that keeps on giving.
*
The car pulls up at the Ferrara Building and I look through the window at the huge glass tower. Antonio gets out and opens the car door for me.
“Thank you.” I give him a soft smile and he raises an unimpressed eyebrow back at me. “I’ll be right here.”
“Okay.”
Antonio isn’t impressed we are here and refuses to hide it.
I walk in through reception and up to the counter. “I’m here to see Giuliano Ferrara.”
The receptionist subtly looks me up and down. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No. Tell him his sister, Francesca, is here.”
Her mouth falls open. “Yes, of course. My apologies.” She picks up the phone with urgency. “Mr. Ferrara, Francesca, your sister, is here.” She listens as her eyes flick up to me and her brow furrows as if surprised. “Mr. Ferrara is very busy today,” she replies.
What?
“Tell him I’ll wait,” I snap.
“She said she’ll wait,” she whispers uncomfortably, she nods as she listens and then her eyes flick to the front doors. “Three that I can see, sir.”
I frown and my eyes flick to the front door, he just asked her how many guards I have with me.