‘He’s lying, Narciso.’ He heard the plea in her voice and tried to think, to rationalise what was unfolding before him. Unfortunately his brain seemed to have stopped working.
From the moment he’d seen Giacomo take her hand and kiss it, time had jerked to a stop, then rewound furiously, throwing up old memories that refused to be banished.
Forcing himself into the present, he stared at Ruby. The gorgeous firecracker who’d got under his skin. The woman who’d made love to him last night in her apartment as if her soul belonged to him.
Waking up this morning to find her gone had rocked him to his soul. The realisation that he wanted her in his bed and in his arms every morning and night for the rest of his life had been shocking but slowly, as the idea had embedded itself into his heart, he’d known it was what he wanted.
He loved her. He, who’d never loved anything or anyone in his life, had fallen in love...
With a woman who would meet with his father and not tell him...allow Giacomo to put his hand on her.
No! He couldn’t have made the same mistake twice.
Ruby was different...
Wasn’t she? Reeling, he watched Giacomo stroll to the large sofa in the room and ease himself into it. His attitude reeked a confidence that shook Narciso to the core.
He forced himself to speak. ‘Ruby, is this true?’
She shook her head so emphatically, tendrils fell down her graceful neck. ‘No, it’s not. I only—’
‘You have a spy following me around. I know you do. He reports to you twice a week. Today is one of those days, I believe,’ Giacomo said.
Narciso’s fists tightened. ‘Not any more.’
Surprise lit the old man’s eyes. ‘Really? You must be going soft. Luckily, I had my own pictures taken.’
Giacomo reached into his pocket and threw down a set of photos on the coffee table.
Narciso felt his body tremble as he moved towards the table. For the first time in his life, he knew genuine fear. He glanced up to see Ruby’s eyes on his face.
‘Please, Narciso, it’s not what you think. I can explain.’
He took another step. And there in Technicolor was the woman he loved, with the man he’d believed until very recently he hated most in his life.
Ironically, it was Ruby who’d made him look deeper into himself and acknowledge the fact that it wasn’t hate that drove him but a desperate need to connect with the person who should’ve loved him.
His legs lost the ability to support him and he sank into his chair. Vicious pain slashed at his heart and he fought against the need to howl in agony.
‘Leave,’ he rasped.
‘I warned you you would never best me,’ his father crooned.
Slowly, Narciso raised his head and looked at his father. Despite his triumph, he looked haggard. The years of bitterness had taken their toll. It was what he’d risked becoming...
‘She insisted on saving you, do you know that?’
Ice filled his gut. ‘Scusi?’