Page 136 of Corrado

Just a ghost of one, though.

He lifted his head a bit, giving her a better view of the planes that made up his handsome face, and the war that raged in his stare. “Alessio Sorrento—I like Les, though.”

Les.

That text …

“But it ain’t about me, is it?” Alessio asked, his voice a deep bass that came off both edgy and dark. “Lately, it’s been all about you, Ginevra.”

How did he know her name?

She wondered …

No one had said either way—man or woman, they didn’t say who the other person was for Corrado. She hadn’t assumed, but a part of her just figured it was a woman because that was the default. Not that she cared either way who someone loved or fucked behind closed doors. That was their business, and as long as people were happy, what did it matter?

But now,staring at this man, and the way he looked at her like he was both curious, but he wished she would drop dead on the fucking spot, too, made her think …

This was him.

This man was Corrado’s … person. They were a them before Ginevra ever came into the picture, clearly. Those shoes with different sizes on the rack when she first arrived at the penthouse; the different style jackets, like they belonged to entirely different personalities; the offhanded remarks Corrado made without realizing it—and we use it, he’d said—and then ignored when she questioned him; or even his hesitations when he nearly slipped up like telling her the master bedroom was his, but he’d almost said something different.

She knew now.

It meant these two men had been a thing for a while. She was in the middle. He came before her. She understood what she had missed.

It hurt worse because of it.

“Yeah, it’s been all about you, huh?” Alessio smirked, adding lower, “And I’m here to find out why that is.”

Above all things, at the end of the day when the sun went down, and he no longer had to pretend like he gave a shit, Alessio was still an asshole. Oh, he had people he cared about—those he loved, sure. He usually cared to make an attempt with those people not to be an asshole, but most others were fair game.

And even those he cared for, if he were being honest, weren’t special exceptions to the rules when it came right down to it. When things began to feel like they were falling apart around Alessio, or like his life was spiraling out of control … that asshole side of him liked to make an appearance.

It became worse.

Like now.

The fact that he was an asshole was the entire reason why he happened to be standing at the end of that hallway in their penthouse in Toronto. It was every single fucking reason why he had come here to do this tonight.

Near the front door, the pretty thing he’d likely scared the wits out of—whoops—made a sound that drew his gaze to her again. And shit, she was pretty. Disregarding the rest of this shit that pissed him off about her, and her presence here, Ginevra was a beautiful thing.

He wasn’t at all surprised she managed to catch Corrado’s eye. He always did have a taste for pretty, delicate looking things when it came to women. Ones that looked innocent because he enjoyed finding all the parts of them that were far from it.

Ginevra was certainly that.

Pretty, that was.

Okay, he might have been being an asshole again. Pretty was a bit … nice. If he were being honest, he would say that he understood entirely why she caught Corrado’s eye because Alessio couldn’t stop his gaze from drinking her in from where he stood ten feet away, either.

Like the way that silk gray dress, wet from the rain pouring down outside, had molded itself to her body. Silk was un-fucking-forgiving against a body. Instead of accentuating beauty, it highlighted every single goddamn flaw it could, but especially when it was that tight. Not on her, though.

Because he couldn’t find a flaw.

He couldn’t find something to dislike in the shape of her hips, or the length of her legs, her skin golden with a sheen from the rain, but olive-toned, too. Her breasts, emphasized by the beige lace of the bra cups peeking out from the low-cut front of the dress, lifted and fell quickly with her breaths, which only drew his gaze higher. To the delicate column of her throat, tense with her nerves, and making that diamond choker glitter as it caught the light.

And her face.

Her face.