Twisted Bond by SR Jones

Chapter Nine

Amelia

He wants me to be his wife.

“This is not a proposal,” he says. He pushes to his feet and tips my chin up with his finger. “When I propose to you, it won't be in this study. It won't be when you're reeling from a long plane journey and escaping an institution. It will be soon, though. So, you see, when I say that I see you as mistress of this house—I see you as mistress of this house.”

I'm aware that my breathing is rapid, and my heart is pounding.

He wants me to be his wife.

“I suppose I ought to get back to the library and tell Veronica which books to start on.” It's all I can think to say in this moment.

He smiles at me, letting me have my escape.

“Okay. Oh, and if your grandmother rings you, I want you to tell me.”

The order takes me by surprise. I hesitate because part of me really wishes to speak to her, and give her a piece of my mind. I know if I tell Gio she’s calling, he won’t let me take it.

“Amelia,” he warns. “You cannot trust her. If you wish to talk to her, I'll let you.”

“Let me?” I say, indignant.

“Hell yes, let you. The woman had you committed, Amelia. Jesus, with the way you've been behaving recently, you'll be lucky if I let you out of here without a leash.”

I'm not entirely sure that he's joking. I shake my head and open the door, only for his big palm to slam it shut as he leans in close to me and whispers in my ear. “Don't mistake my love for you for weakness, Amelia. I'll do all I must to protect you. Even from yourself. Your heart is too soft. You make rash decisions. And you place yourself in danger. So, if your grandmother rings, you will let me know, and we will discuss things before you speak with her.”

“Yes, sir,” I say huffily.

“If that little show of sass was meant to piss me off, it didn't work. It did give me some ideas for later, though, because I really liked you calling me sir.”

He opens the door and gestures to indicate that I can leave. God, he's an arrogant fucker. He's also one very sexy fucker.

I go back to the library and tell Veronica that we will start working on the books in the next couple of days. I look at the box, and I'm filled with excitement for what could be in there. Soon, I'll get to find out.

Veronica leaves, promising to be back within a couple of days, and as soon as she’s gone, I lie on the floor the way I did when I first came to this place and stare at the ceiling. The door opens, and I crane my neck expecting to see Gio, but instead long, slender legs fill my vision.

“You're doing the whole ceiling staring thing again, aren't you?”

I roll over and push up on to my hands and knees, then jump to my feet. I rush to my friend and throw my arms around her in a big hug.

“Maya.”

“I'm so glad you're back and safe,” she says.

She hugs me so hard it hurts. Pulling away from her, I bite my lip as I consider how to word my apology. “Maya, I'm so sorry. I lied to you. I can pay you the money back; I promise. I was desperate to get out of here at the time.”

“You don't owe me an apology at all, Amelia. I get it. I just wish you'd have trusted me enough to actually tell me because I could have helped.”

Doing so would have got her into all kinds of trouble.

“I never could have asked you to help because it would have gotten you into so much trouble.”

“Probably, but I'm not scared of these men. I'd have taken the trouble if it meant helping you. We are friends now. And we women have to stick together in this world. I mean this, Amelia. You ever find yourself in trouble again or you need a friend—call me.”

“Ditto,” I tell her with a grin.

“So, I presume you didn't actually buy the watch,” she says with a laugh.

No I didn't, did I? I probably should buy Gio something because he's always getting me amazing gifts, and I've made his life extremely complicated and dangerous in recent days. What the hell do you get a man who has everything, though?

As I stare at Maya thinking about it, an idea hits me. “Oh my God!” I exclaim.

“What?” Maya glances around her as if we're about to be attacked.

“I've just thought of a great plan. I need to get a present for Gio, and I have no idea where to begin. You want to set up a business where you source special antiques for your clients, no? I mean? I know a lot of it will be for interior design, but surely sometimes it will just be consignment work that you get. Well, how about you help me pick the perfect gift for Gio. I can be your first client.”

I don't have much money because most of what I have in the bank is tied up in work going on at the house. I do have some, though, and I can easily spend a few thousand on something that Gio would love. I just need guidance in getting the right thing.

“I could talk to Marcello tomorrow and ask exactly the sort of thing his brother likes, and then we could go look, no?”

“It’s a great idea.” She smiles at me, but then it becomes a little frown. “I'm not sure how long we’ll be staying, though.” She sighs and begins to pace. “Truth be told, I don't really want to go home. Which is kind of concerning. This was a break from reality, but now I'm finding that I don't want to return to the reality. It's not Damen,” she says. “I love him to pieces. I guess I'm just bored.”

“But you're setting up your business now,” I tell her.

“Yes, I am, but I'm still living in some sort of gilded cage in Greece. Damen is paranoid, and so is his best friend, Alesso. And as for my father, he’s paranoid too, and I never feel properly free.”

It seems it's an occupational hazard with these men. I can't imagine that Cassie or Violet ever feel fully free either. Or that I will going forward if I agree to one day be Gio’s wife.

“I can’t imagine that Damen doesn't let you do what you want?” I tell her.

“Yeah, he does. I can go wherever I want, whenever I want. I always have to have guards with me, though. I don't know, sometimes I just find it all so tiring.”

“You need to talk to Damen,” I tell her. “I think you should suggest a holiday to him. I know you said that in the past he's told you that you don't have the time to take a break in that way. But if you tell him how bad you've been feeling, then surely he'll do anything to make you better.”

“I hope so, Amelia. You have a good heart, you know. Honestly, I love Cassie and Violet, and all the other girls, but from the minute I met you there was something about you. We just clicked.”

I smile at that because I didn't really have a choice in the matter. Maya seemed to decide that she liked me and that I was her new best friend, and that was it. Not that I'm moaning. I love being her friend. She's great fun, loyal, and surprisingly intelligent behind her glamorous, slightly airheaded exterior.

“Does your husband talk to you about the things he does when he's hacking into people’s affairs?” I ask her suddenly.

“Sometimes,” she says. “Most times, no, because he can't. I understand that, and I don't try to push him.”

“Has he mentioned anything about my mother and grandmother?” I ask her.

“Only that he's been looking into your grandmother for Giovanni and that...”

Her cheeks flush, and she glances around the room as if looking for a distraction. I don't want to feel bad about whatever it is she’s about to say. I also don't want her to change the subject.

“It's okay, Maya. I know you might have been about to say something a little harsh, perhaps, about my grandmother. It wouldn't be anything that I haven’t said myself before. She can be a horrible person. I'm just interested as to what he knows.”

“I honestly don't know what he knows. He'd never tell me the details in that way. He basically just said that your grandmother is a really cold, cruel, and in his opinion, manipulative person. He thinks she might even be dangerous to you and that you're better off away from her.”

“I feel so alone and scared sometimes,” I confess. “I have no siblings. I don't even have any close cousins. My father is dead, my mother is dead, my grandfather too. Even my Meemaw, who was my mom’s mother. The only person left alive is my grandmother, and she's as cold as a block of ice, and now allegedly is plotting all sorts of things against me. It's a scary feeling being so alone, so very, very much alone.”

Maya walks over to me and takes my hands in hers as she shakes my arms gently. “You're not alone, babe,” she says. “The best family, people say, is the one you choose. Well, you have me. I'm your friend now, and I think of friends as family. I'm not just saying that. Loads of people say friends are family, but then they're never there for them. If you ever need me, I promise you, Amelia, I will be there. You also have Gio. He seems to want you to be part of his family now, too. I mean, he hasn't said anything outright to myself or Damen, but you should have seen the state of him when you left. The man was desperate.”

My greedy, hungry heart wants to hear more about how desperate he was when I left. I have an inkling that it doesn't make me a very nice person. I shouldn't be revelling in his distress, but it feeds that hungry, annoying part of me that needs love. “How desperate exactly?” I ask.

“He was a mess,” she says with a smile. “I mean, really. One minute he was going to take the plane there and then, the next minute K told him not to do that. So, then he was going to take the plane the next day, but then there was some information that came through, and oh my gosh he was all over the place. Not eating, not sleeping. You know how he is so healthy looking, all dark and tan and glamorous. Well, he looked so pale. In fact, he reminded me of a vampire with his red eyes because he was constantly rubbing them, his pale skin, and his short temper.” She giggles.

Do vampires have short tempers? I've read a lot of vampire books, and I don't really remember that being a trait. I don't say anything about it, though.

“If I tell you something, do you promise, and I mean swear to me, that you won't tell Damen or anyone?” I ask her.

I'm dying to tell somebody about the conversation I had with Gio, and she's the only person I can think of in the world that I can share it with. Well, there's Janey, but she's not here right now, and Maya is.

“I swear I won't say anything, and it won't go anywhere else,” she says. She lets go of my hand, walks to a table, and perches on the edge of it as she looks at me expectantly. Her raised brows, angled head, and slightly parted lips scream: come on—spill the beans.

“I have to tell someone, or else I'll go crazy. Tonight, Giovanni told me that one day he wants me to be his wife.”

Maya screams loud enough to wake the dead and jumps off the table. She does a kind of little dance on the tiles, her heels clacking and then runs over to me and pulls me into a huge hug. She lets go and jumps up and down on the spot like a child. “Oh my God. Ohh. My. God. This is so exciting. A wedding. I so love a wedding. And here.” She walks around the room, throwing her arms in the air at the ceiling, at the titles, at the books, at God knows what.

“I mean, come on, Amelia. Can you imagine it? A wedding, here? Oh wow. It will be epic. It will be like that time when Madonna got married. Do you remember? There were all the paparazzi in helicopters. I bet it would just like that. Paparazzi is an Italian word, you know? I think it was invented because of all the press that followed the Italian film stars around in the 60s or the 70s. Maybe the guys that did the spaghetti westerns. I mean, why did they do westerns in Italy? I don't know; it doesn't make any sense to me. Were they meant to be set in Mexico? Or were they actually meant to be set in Italy? In the film itself, I mean? Anyway? Who cares? I'm kind of envisaging a Roman Holiday theme. You as a redheaded Audrey Hepburn and Giovanni as your own Gregory Peck.”

I'm staring at her aghast. I had only envisaged a very small wedding when Giovanni first mentioned me being his wife, and most definitely not the sort of scenario that Maya is talking about. That would be my idea of hell. “Maya, there won't be any paparazzi here. Certainly not in helicopters.”

“Oh, you poor, poor innocent child. You know how well-known Giovanni is. The Amalfi banker. The Italian Prince. Come on; he's in the tabloids all the time. He used to date supermodels. When he gets married, it's going to be in the papers. That means paparazzi. That means you need the best wedding dress ever. Oh my God, we need to start planning right now.”

I'm very quickly regretting my choice to tell Maya my news. I love the woman to bits, but my God she can take an idea and run with it.

“Well, nothing’s been said yet, officially. He hasn't even proposed, so please, please don't say anything.”

“Just because I'm excited, babe, doesn't mean I'm going to open my mouth to anyone else. But you and me? We are going to have so many FaceTime chats about wedding dresses in the coming months. I mean, he hasn't proposed yet, but he's going to. A man like that? He doesn't tell you he's going to make you his wife unless he means it. Once he does propose, you might not have much time. He's the kind of guy who wants everything here and now, you know.” She snaps her fingers together, click, click, click.

“Okay, I promise we'll have lots of FaceTime chats. But in the meantime, can we just not say anything about it, please?”

I'm having dreadful visions of us taking a stroll into Amalfi for a coffee and her dragging me into the nearest wedding shop in front of Giovanni and Damen.

“I swear on my life, no wedding talk at all except for when we are totally alone, or on FaceTime.”

She then dramatically crosses her chest.

I burst out laughing. “Oh, Maya, I have missed you.”

She beams as she walks to me, links her arm with mine, and heads to the door.

“Come on; let's get ourselves a little glass of champagne. This deserves to be celebrated. If the men come down and ask what we're doing, we'll just tell them we wanted a little glass of bubbly. No need for them to know that you've told me your secret. I won't say anything to Damen. It isn’t anything dangerous, or anything that could affect his business. It isn't as if he doesn't keep enough secrets from me.” She huffs out an annoyed breath as if Damen doesn't tell her things that she really needs to know, rather than the fact that it seems to me he only keeps serious information from her that could put her in harm's way.

I send up a prayer that Maya will keep her promise and not blab my secret.

The door swings open, and Damen puts his head around the wood with a grin. “Are you hungry, ladies?” he asks.

As if right on cue, my stomach rumbles. It seems like ages since I had a proper meal, and I’ve been working off a lot of calories in the bedroom with Gio.

“I could eat,” I say casually.

Maya laughs and digs me gently in the ribs. “Yeah, we all heard.”

“Giovanni sent me to get you. He thought it would be nice if we all ate together.”

“Sounds like a perfect plan.” Maya winks at her husband.

She links my arm, and we walk out of the library together. As she passes by Damen, who holds the door ajar for us, he sweeps down and plants a quick kiss on her cheek.

Walking with us down the corridor, Damen throws his arm around Maya’s shoulders.

“What have you two been up to?” he asks. “Trouble, I bet.”

I dart a worried glance Maya’s way, hoping her excitement about the possible marriage doesn’t have her blabbing, but she simply shoots her husband a wide smile and shakes her head. “Girl talk is sacred, babe,” she says.

He barks out a laugh and swoops in for yet another kiss.

Giovanni isn’t as openly affectionate with me as Damen is with Maya, and I wonder if that’s because they’ve been together longer, or if it’s simply part of Damen‘s nature to be more open.

I decide to ask Maya when we get a chance to chat next if he’s always been so touchy feely. I don’t think she’ll be offended by the line of questioning. In fact, I doubt there is very little that could offend Maya.

We reach the informal dining room, and I stare at a table groaning with wondrous delicacies. Nonna has outshone herself this time. It’s my favorite kind of food; a plethora of cheeses, meat, salads, and hot dishes, such as risotto and pasta, line the table. Antipasto. Delicious.

“I remember you telling me once how you like to taste lots of different things, so I got Nonna to prepare some of the best small dishes for you to try this evening.” Giovanni grins at me from where he is seated near the top of the table.

He sips at a glass of wine, and I glance up as the click of heels in the corridor grabs my attention. Greta enters the room from the far door, and she’s wearing a slinky shift dress, with sky-high Louboutin heels. The flash of red at the sole gives them away.

I haven’t seen her much since the night at the fight club, and I feel a little awkward around her these days. As far as I’m concerned, she is far too involved in the seamier side of Giovanni’s lifestyle.

“Come, sit by me.” Giovanni pats the chair next to his and beckons me over.

I walk over to him and take the seat offered. Thankfully, Maya sits opposite me, and Damen takes a seat by her, meaning Greta moves farther down the table.

Sylvia bustles into the room, and her face lights up when she sees me. I push back my chair and rush to her, taking her into a hug.

“Sylvia,” I exclaim. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too,” she says as her cheeks flush a little.

Deep voices reverberate in the hallway before Marcello and Matteo enter the room.

I can’t really figure out Matteo’s place in this family. He is an employee, not a relative of Giovanni’s, but he often hangs around with the family as if they’re old friends or something.

Sylvia starts to serve up food, asking people what they would like and passing plates around. Most people around the table, however, begin to help themselves, and after a while, Greta quietly tells Sylvia she can leave but they’ll call if they need anything.

I’m not sure where to begin. It all looks so good. There is a huge slab of mozzarella cheese taking up the centre of the table, and it’s covered in olive oil and balsamic vinegar with torn basil leaves decorating its surface. It looks delicious, and I decide I’ll be having some.

As we begin to fill our plates, and wine is poured into glasses, conversations drift around the room.

“I think we need to return to Athens soon,” Damen tells Giovanni as Greta and Matteo involve themselves in a heated debate in Italian.

“So soon?” I say in dismay.

I hate the idea of losing my friend.

“I’m afraid so,” he replies. “Need to take care of that business with our Polish friends.” Damen gives Giovanni a pointed look.

“Yes, I guess you do. I guess also that I owe you for this. You and Stamatis both.” Giovanni reaches over the table and chinks his glass against Damen’s. “Don’t leave it too long before you come back, though. There’s always a place here for you guys.”

I nibble at my food and sip my wine, but some of the shine has gone off the evening both because of the presence of Greta, and because of the soon to be absence of Maya.

It doesn’t make sense that I’m so uncomfortable around Greta. She wasn’t the only person there that night; Marcello was too. Giovanni as well, obviously. I guess it’s because she’s a woman, and I can’t understand how she would enjoy something so brutal like that.

**

After a short while, I decide that I’m getting into a melancholy funk, and I need to pull myself together.

“How many days do you have left?” I asked Damen. “If you have time, maybe we could all do something nice together?”

“I think we will leave the day after tomorrow.”

My heart sinks a little, but at least we will have a day.

Giovanna keeps casting me sideways glances, and I turn to him to see a small smile playing about his lips. “You will miss your friend, no?”

What is he playing at? I’m not sure I trust that smile. “Of course, I’ll miss Maya.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll have other things to keep you busy by then.”

He has something planned. I wonder what it could be? First, I think of the box of books, but I doubt he’s alluding to that. Then, my mind immediately wanders to the idea of my punishment. I grow hot as I mess with my napkin and glance from the table furtively to see if anyone has noticed my discomfort.

Something brushes against the top of my thigh, making me jump, and I glance down to see Giovanni‘s hand resting there. His fingers move higher, and I put my hand on top of his to still him. His lips twitch again, and he continues to move his hand.

Unless I want to make a scene, it will be hard to stop him from what he’s doing. That hand of his inches up my thigh, higher and higher, until his index finger brushes right over my clit.

I make a strange little choking sound, and press my napkin to my mouth, pretending a little bit of wine has gone down the wrong way.

One glance at Giovanni shows him sitting there like the cat that got the cream. God, he is so arrogant and annoying at times.

I decide that I won’t let his touch affect me, not one little bit. Not while there is so much beautiful food to be eaten, and such good company opposite us. That will teach him a lesson. He’ll feel stupid soon enough and give up his silly games.

Unfortunately for me, Giovanni is one very determined man. I suppose you don’t become a billionaire banker if you give up at the first hurdle easily.

Instead of him growing bored, my lack of response only seems to make him more determined. I might not be responding on the outside, but my stomach is fluttering, full of dancing butterflies, and my pussy is soaked. His finger presses more firmly, and I wiggle a little in my seat, trying to relieve the pressure.

I peek to my side but realize there is no one sitting on our side of the table. Maya and Damen are opposite us. Greta is at the head of the table, and Marcello is at the end of the table with Matteo to his right. It means that unless I make a show of myself, no one will be any the wiser as to what is going on. I take another sip of wine, and then dab at my lips with my napkin as I lean back and decide to enjoy the sensations playing within me. God, but Giovanni is talented with his fingers. He is pressing against me in a tantalizing rhythmic pattern that has me almost losing my mind. Soon, if he doesn’t stop what he’s doing, I’m going to come. Will I be able to hide it from everyone? I doubt it. Surely, he won’t push it that far?

Giovanni adds his thumb to the mix, and I pop a cherry tomato into my mouth purposefully as I feel myself fall over the crest of the hill and down the steep slope of ecstasy. I moan around the tomato as if it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, and then stuff the napkin over my mouth. I don’t want to make any more sounds like that—it came out far too carnal. Matteo has turned a shrewd look my way.

I cover as much of my face as I can with my hands and the napkin and keep the noise to a minimum. Because I can’t make much sound, and I can’t let my face show an inkling of what’s happening to me, it becomes the most intense sexual experience of my life. I feel every single wave of pleasure that washes over me, pulling me under and threatening to sweep me away.

It’s so intense that my legs are shaking under the table. When the orgasm finally subsides, I grab my wineglass and down the rest of the liquid.

I’m going to get Giovanni back for this if it’s the last thing I do. I’m not sure how yet, but I’m going to do something so fiendish, he’ll regret the day he decided to torture me in front of his friends and family.

I’m planning all sorts of scenarios when I still. An American accent rings out in the hallway, and I listen intently, a slice of ham part way to my lips.

“This way, did you say?”

That voice is familiar. Very familiar.

I scream and jump up from my seat as Janey appears in the doorway.

“Oh my God, what are you doing here?” I run to her.

“Babe, hello! Oh my God, I’m here.” Janey pulls me into a huge hug.

She’s wearing Estee Lauder’s Sunflowers, which is her signature work sent, and it’s so reminiscent of our time in the library, I feel tears threatening.

I turn back to Giovanni, my eyes wide, and see him grinning at me. He did this.

The man who a moment ago was torturing me, had this planned all along.

“How did you get here?” I ask.

“I had quite a lot of leave saved up, and there’s two new hires since you left, so I could take the time. Giovanni, I mean Mr. Bianchi, asked me if I would like to come when you landed here in Italy. He said he was going to ask me before, when you guys were still in America, but you all had to leave quickly.”

I can’t understand how she got here so fast.

“It’s hard getting planes, though.”

“Oh, I didn’t take a commercial flight.” She laughs. “Your boyfriend sent his private jet for me.”

For a moment, my old demons come out to play. Janey is much prettier than me, and Giovanni sending his private jet for her and asking her to be here seems a little bit over the top. When did he even speak to her or meet her? How does he know her number? I don’t understand.

“I think you’ll find it is my brother who sent the plane for you,” Giovanni says.

I flick my gaze across the table to see Marcello staring at Janey as if she’s the tastiest of all the morsels laid out in front of him.

“Wait, when did you guys meet?” I ask, my paranoia receding, but my curiosity most definitely alive.

“I went to the library. I wanted to speak to Janey to ask about your grandmother.” Giovanni says all this to me as if it means nothing, him once more snooping around in my life and questioning the people that I know.

“Janey didn’t know anything about me being kept in that place, or what my grandmother did,” I say. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d spoken with her, or questioned the people in my life?”

Gio must be able to sense my temper brewing because he glances around table, and then with a direct look my way, he simply says, “If you want to talk about this in more depth, we can always go and sit in the study, my darling.”

There is a subtle threat to the words my darling. I don’t want to discuss it in more detail anyway, and not because of his veiled threat, but because I want to spend time with my friend.

“No, it’s fine. I was just curious is all.”

“We wondered about your life, and why you left here, and we wanted to go see your friend and where you worked.” Marcello states this as if it’s all absolutely normal behavior.

“This place is absolutely amazing.” Janey’s eyes are huge as she looks around.

She grins at Giovanni, and that little demon of jealousy sparks up in my mind once more.

She is so much better than you, it whispers. So much prettier. Worldly… And look at the way she’s looking at him. She might be your friend, but no woman would refuse Giovanni. This house only makes him even more alluring.

I tell the green-eyed monster to go fuck himself and leave me alone. I’m not going to be that girl anymore. For far too long I’ve let my insecurities rule my life; well, no more.

Anyway, if the glances that Marcello is throwing Janey’s way are anything to go by, Giovanni would probably have to fight his brother to the death to lay a finger on my friend.

“Well, whichever one of you sent the jet for my friend, and however this all came about, I want to say thank you.” I pull Janey in for another hug and then push her away from me so I can get a good look at her.

“Do you guys mind if I join you?” Janey asks. She indicates the table.

“Of course not,” Marcello replies quickly.

I’ve never seen the guy act this way before. He’s always struck me as extra cool when it comes to dealing with the fairer sex. It seems that in Janey he may have met his match.

Janey is nothing like me. She’s not a shrinking violet who doesn’t know how to deal with people and has never had sex. Janey is a party animal. She probably knows tricks that Marcello hasn’t even heard off.

Janey takes the seat beside me, and I resume my place.

It’s absolutely surreal to have her here in Italy. I start to think of all the places we can go, and how I can show her around the house, and especially my library.

My library? It’s not mine, is it? Then again, if Gio meant what he said about making me his wife, and I accept him, it will be my library. All of this will be mine. All those books. I could bring the books from home too. Oh, wow, we’d have such a collection.

We.

Us.

For the first time, I might become part of a pair, and despite all our issues, the thought has my heart almost bursting with happiness.

“How long can you stay?” I ask Janey.

“Only five days I’m afraid, babe,” she says. “This is a last-minute break, and I could only manage to wrangle a few days off. Now that I’ve seen this place, though, I’ll definitely come again.” She gives a soft laugh.

“Come as often as you’d like,” Marcello chimes. His comment is practically dripping with double meaning.

I roll my eyes at his ridiculousness and choke down a disdainful scoff.

Light tinkling laughter beside me has me looking at my friend in astonishment. Janey is giggling. Janey is not a giggler. She has a deep, husky laugh normally. I stare at her for a moment and note the tiny hint of pink at the base of her throat.

It seems that Marcello might not be alone in his feelings, and they may very well be reciprocated.

“Maya,” I grab my friend’s attention, suddenly remembering my manners. “I’d love you to meet Janey, my friend from back home. You two will get on so well,” I say. “You’re both so into fashion. Janey, honestly, you need to ask Maya to show you some of her clothes before she goes home. You will die. I swear to God.”

“Ahhh, so you’re Maya.” Janey shoots Maya a warm smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Maya frowns and looks puzzled, as well she might. “Oh, how come?”

“Marcello used you as bait,” Giovanni says.

I turn and stare at my lover in shock. It’s an outright bitchy remark that he’s just made, and it puts Marcello in a terrible spot.

“Damn right I did,” Marcello admits happily as he pops an olive into his mouth.

“Bait?” I glance at Damen, and then Janey. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Janey here is a fashion stylist,” Marcello says. “I knew she would love to meet you, Maya, because of how amazing your clothes are. I also thought you might like to meet her, in case you ever decided you want some style help.”

Maya swivels slowly in her seat until she is facing Marcello fully. “Do I look like a woman who needs styling help to you?” She stares at Marcello, and for the first time since I’ve known him, the man looks distinctly uncomfortable.

“No… I mean, of course not, but…”

Maya tips her head back and bursts out laughing. “Got you good.”

Damen shakes his head at his wife, but his lips quirk up in a now familiar expression of resigned amusement.

“Janey, in all seriousness, you can come and look at my wardrobe any time that you’d like. I absolutely love showing my clothes off.”

And that right there is what I love about Maya. Most women would never admit to loving showing their clothes off, but Maya does, and yet she doesn’t sound big headed at all.

“I mean, I don’t have most of them with me, but I do have some really amazing Versace dresses, including a fantastic vintage one from the nineties. We also bought Amelia one, didn’t we, gorgeous?”

Gorgeous. I like that nickname. I smile at her and nod, a little shy suddenly.

“Ooh, I bet you look amazing in it,” Janey sighs dreamily at me. “That fashion house is such a vibe.”

“Right?” Maya exclaims excitedly. “Unique, no? It’s what I’m always telling Damen.”

“Absolutely.” Janey leans forward and focuses on Maya. “The thing is, if I styled you, I’d go all classic separates. We’re talking The Row, no logos, beautiful fabrics, and then bam, Versace sunnies, or a scarf.”

“You get it, babe. We should go look at my dresses, and then maybe you can send me some ideas for outfits. I actually have a charity ball coming up, and I want something for that; it’s very stuffy. You could help me pick something staid but glamorous maybe?”

“As long as you’d send me pictures of you in it so I could use it for my portfolio, if that would be okay? I want to start my own business eventually.”

Damen clears his throat. “Actually, Giovanni and I need to talk to you two ladies.”

His face and words are incredibly serious, and a chill runs up my spine.

That doesn’t sound good.