Page 70 of Winter With You

‘We’re toying with the possibility of a trilogy of books but you would have to agree and commit to be more open about the tragedy. Book two would be Zero Fucks Driven – what makes a young talented woman with all the opportunities of the world at her feet “fall” from a balcony and coaching skills to help others in a similar situation choose an alternative outcome. Then, book three, Zero Fucks Enliven, to really finish on positive choices over negative actions. How you have taken on Phoebe to ensure she doesn’t end up being swallowed by her own grief.’

It was hideous. With every fresh sentence, Gabriella’s skin felt like it was being blowtorched away from her bones, braising, burning, baring. ‘Mystery and intrigue,’ she said in a vicious whisper.

‘Yes,’ Cheyenne said, nodding. ‘No one really knows what happened that night. I know it was reported as an accident but, reading between the lines, most people think there was more to it.’ She seemed to deepen her gaze. ‘But only one person knows the truth and… that’s you.’

She couldn’t have this conversation. It was a threat to everything she was trying to maintain – the image of the intelligent, creative sister who’d had a flame that had burned so brightly, her own life equilibrium, Phoebe. She couldn’t stay here. It was like the walls of the suite were closing in and they were going to crush her and the memory of her sister.

‘You know what, Cheyenne? If you want mystery and intrigue, you can spend the rest of the night here looking after Phoebe, wondering where I am and if I’m even going to come back.’

‘What?’

‘Yeah and, another thing, I do give a fuck. So here’s one for you.’ She stuck up her middle finger. ‘Fuck you!’

And, without saying anything else, Gabriella picked up her coat and stormed from the room.

44

LUCA’S MANNING’S APARTMENT, THE BRONX

The red might have been gone from his body and the sullied clothes were set on a washing cycle of the hottest available, but everything was still on Luca’s mind and not just the situation with his father and the family business, but how he had responded to it. Furious. Feral even. It was everything he tried to disassociate from, everything he had walked away from.

His hand shook as he picked up the glass of bourbon from the coffee table and took a swig. Now the aftermath was hitting him. Marching into one of the bars that all the people he loathed frequented. Threatening and bullying the bullies. It was so in opposition to who he wanted to be. But it had been necessary, hadn’t it?

There was a knock on the door. Firm. Urgent. He stood up, tightened the belt of the bathrobe around him and walked to the door. He looked through the spy hole, expecting to see someone with vengeance on their mind. Instead, he saw Gabriella. Well, after tonight and the incident in the market, perhaps repercussion wasn’t out of the question. He paused, his hand on the door, slowing his breath. He seemed to be fighting all kinds of emotions when it came to her… He stabilised himself, externally and internally, as much as possible, and then opened the door.

‘Hey,’ he greeted. And then, uncharacteristically, he was caught completely off guard as she pushed him inside, and he moved with her momentum as she drove forward, shrugging off her coat that landed on the floor.

‘I got your address from Sybille. Don’t say anything yet,’ she ordered him as she advanced and, for some reason, he let himself retreat up the short corridor into the living area. ‘And don’t let me stop talking until I’m done.’

Her eyes were on fire, but he couldn’t decide what was making them burn as her hands slipped inside his robe and her fingers met his shoulders. He felt every inch of the contact on his skin.

‘Say something,’ Gabriella breathed, face moving closer to his.

‘You told me not to let you stop talking until you were done.’

‘Right,’ she said, her breath seeming to quicken as she backed him up against the table. ‘I did. God, why did I say that? Why am I doing this?’

‘Doing what?’ His breath was catching in his throat.

‘I need to do, Luca. I want to do. It’s what I do when I can’t think anymore.’ Her fingers grazed his skin a bit lower.

‘What do you want to do?’ A zillion tiny fireworks were starting to be lit inside him.

‘You,’ she said firmly. ‘I want to do you.’

Her tone was guttural, confident yet also completely delicate, as if both burning and breaking were possible in this moment. As her hands moved lower, tracing a trail across his chest, skimming along the length of his abdomen, he caught hold of her wrist, took it hard and held it away from his body.

‘Not like that,’ he ordered her.

She tried to squirm her hand out of his control but he held tight. ‘Let me go.’

‘Is that what you want?’

There was no hesitation in her reply. ‘No.’

He brought his face closer until their foreheads were almost touching. ‘We both know this shouldn’t be about “doing”, Gabriella.’

‘I can’t do anything else. I don’t know how to.’ Now the tone was losing some of the bravado she had stepped in here with.