Page 88 of Alessio

Somehow, with their backs turned, she stood next to Ginevra. Which wouldn’t be such a big deal, or a problem at all, if not for the fact Ginevra looked like she was about to cry. She avoided the woman’s stare next to her, her jaw tight, and her arms folded over her chest. If it wasn’t clear, by the fact she wasn’t talking, that she wasn’t interested in a conversation, then her body language sure as hell should have done it.

Still, the woman in red continued, saying, “If you know what I mean.”

“I don’t, actually.”

Ouch.

The venom in Ginevra’s tone wasn’t missed.

“Huh,” the other woman said.

What the fuck?

“Ginny,” Corrado said, stepping forward while shooting daggers at the woman next to her with his gaze, “are you good?”

He offered his hand.

She didn’t take it.

Alessio cleared his throat, but stayed quiet.

“Are you ready to leave?” Corrado asked.

They could figure out the problem later. He wanted to get her away from the bitch beside her. Whatever the issue was, it started and ended right there.

“I am ready to leave,” Ginevra said stiffly.

She still didn’t take his hand.

And she sidestepped Alessio, too.

They followed her out.

What else could they do?

“Ginevra, will you talk now?”

“I would rather not.”

“Ginny—”

“Leave me alone for a minute, okay?” She kicked those Louboutin shoes off in the hallway, the red-soled shoes smacking the wall hard. “I need five seconds to think.”

“About what?”

“Corrado,” Alessio murmured.

He ignored the man behind him.

Mostly, because he didn’t understand what happened back at The Clubhouse in five minutes that turned their fantastic evening into … whatever the fuck this was. She had been having fun—enjoying her time with them out of this goddamn penthouse, because fuck, she didn’t get that enough.

And somehow, it was ruined.

Corrado wanted to understand why.

He needed to fix everything.

That was his thing.