He cocked his head and put a hand in his hip pocket.
Still, the woman didn’t talk. Her lips parted for a moment and then came back together. They were red and full and distracted Luigi too easily. It was difficult not to stare at them. And when he dragged his gaze away, they went down to the generously proportioned bosom beneath before they traveled up to her face again.
Now, the fear was gone. In its place was defiance. The blue eyes were blazing.
“I asked you a question,” Luigi said, softly.
“Camille,” the woman replied. “I’m Camille. And who are you?”
She couldn’t have been 30, perhaps only in her mid-twenties. It made Luigi wonder where she found the nerve to ask him questions. “Camille, who?”
“Williams. I asked you a question.”
Now, Luigi smiled. He liked the stubborn tilt of her chin and the near insolence in her eyes. They reminded him of Mary the first time he met her. She had the regal carriage of a queen and a sheer will that belied her petite stature.
It had been Luigi’s pleasure to conquer her and remold her into the kind of woman he wanted. It’d been his sorrow to let her go after a car crash claimed her life.
“Are you not going to answer?” the woman, Camille, asked.
The firmness in her voice was a commendable attempt at projecting confidence. However, Luigi could easily detect the slight tremor beneath it. It told him he was in complete control. “What are you doing here, Camille?”
There was a pause during which Camille considered his question. He was certain she didn’t want to answer; she wanted to wring a reply from him first to assert dominance. Yet, what sort of sway could a gazelle hope to hold when faced by a tiger?
“Taking a look around,” she replied finally.
“Taking a look around?” Luigi raised an eyebrow. “You just walked in off the street to take a look around my house?”
The question deflated her, and realization spread across her face. “I, uh… came in with Brooke, my sister,” she explained. “We came to see Paulo. He invited us.”
“Brooke…” Paulo’s newest conquest. Luigi nodded slowly in understanding. His son’s love for women and his eagerness to please them once they reciprocated his attention was well known. “And where’s Paulo?” Luigi asked.
“With Brooke,” Camille replied. “They were watching a movie when I left them. I wanted a tour of the house, but I didn’t want to bother them.”
“A tour of the house,” Luigi repeated. Now, he offered her a smile. “You were that bored?”
“Not really.” Camille returned the smile. “You have a beautiful home. I’ve always wanted to see more of it, everything beyond Paulo’s rooms.”
“Would you like me to take you around?” Luigi asked.
Camille bit her lip and shook her head twice. “I’ve seen enough, I think. Thank you.”
Luigi was confused, unable to fathom why she rejected his offer. He could have sworn she was beginning to warm up to him.
“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Frazetta.” The heady scent of her perfume filled his nostrils as she went around him into the hallway.
“Can’t say I’ve properly met you, yet,” he replied.
The statement drew a short laugh from her, but she didn’t stop.
An insane urge to stare as she walked away gripped Luigi. He shook it off with great difficulty and went onto the balcony instead. From up there, his estate was displayed to him in all its glory. Yet it was not enough to distract him from the temptation strutting around in his house.
He listened to her receding footsteps, waiting for her to leave. And when she finally did, he took a deep breath. That didn’t bring him any relief, however, for as soon as Camille Williams was off that floor and out of his mind, thoughts of the looming betrayal in his family slipped into his mind again.
The plan that had only come to him on the ride home began to take shape.
CHAPTER 2
Club69 was one of the most popular clubs in the city. That was thanks in part to Sylvio Rocco, the manager, whose brains kept the place popping and packed, week in, week out.
