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My heart skips a beat at the sight of him. “Hi.”
He leans in and kisses me before he takes me into his arms. “I missed you today.”
I pull out of his arms and he walks past me into my room. “What did you do today?” I ask.
“Worked,” he says as he takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “How was your day?”
“Good,” I say as I watch him. “Where did you have lunch?”
His eyes come to me and in that moment, I know the woman he was with wasn’t his sister.
“Downtown,” he replies calmly and sits on the bed. He taps his lap for me to go him. “Why do you ask?”
I remain standing. “I saw you.” Our eyes are locked, and he remains silent.
“Who is she?”
After a beat, he replies, “Her name is Sophia.” I stare at him as I wait for him to elaborate. “She works for me.”
Relief begins to flood through me. I knew there was a logical reason.
“She’s the General Manager of…” He pauses.
“Of what?”
“Our high-end brothels.”
“She’s a Madam?” I whisper. “You’re spending time with a whore?”
He clenches his jaw, angered by my outburst.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” I snap. “Why did I have to see you in the street with another woman?”
He stands and goes to the window to stare down at the street below. He puts his hands in his suit pockets. “We needed to talk about this, anyway,” he says calmly. “I have been waiting for the right moment to bring it up and this is as good a time as any. I want to get you your own apartment. Pick somewhere, anywhere, and I will buy it for you.”
I stare at him. He’s different, detached and calculating. Or maybe that’s just because my rose-tinted glasses have been smashed to smithereens and I’m seeing the real him for the first time.
He owns brothels.
“You don’t need to work for Valentino. You can have your own fashion label. I’ll back you financially. Anything you want is yours. No budget. You can have everything.”
“Where will you live?” I ask.
He stares at me, but stays silent.
“Will you live with me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He inhales sharply. “We cannot be in a relationship in a traditional sense, Olivia.”
My brows rise.
“I have…” He pauses, searching for the right words. “More than ever, I need to hold onto my Italian heritage.”
My skin begins to crawl.
