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He ignored her question. ‘When you’ve finished eating you should try and get some more sleep. Tomorrow I’ll take you shopping.’ He was back at his end of the table, topping up his coffee.
Her mouth now full of hot bacon, Jessie stopped chewing and stared at him. Then she swallowed hard. ‘Shopping?’ She started to laugh because the idea was ridiculous. ‘You’re mixing me up with some other girl, Silvio. I don’t need new clothes—I need a new life, and you can’t buy that from Harvey Nichols. And anyway…’ without thinking, she picked up a piece of crispy bacon in her fingers and nibbled it ‘…I don’t have any spare money for shopping.’
‘You’ll be spending my money.’
Noticing the napkin next to her plate, Jessie started to wipe her fingers and immediately smeared grease on the crisp, clean linen. Mortified, she considered trying to hide it but then realised that he was watching her. Her face scarlet, she shifted in her chair. ‘Sorry. I wasn’t concentrating. I picked the bacon up.’ Jessie clutched the napkin self-consciously. ‘I’ll wash it if you show me where.’
Astonishment lit his dark eyes. ‘Just leave it. Someone else will do it. Why would you even suggest it?’
She gave a hollow laugh and put the napkin carefully on the table. ‘Because I’m usually that someone else.’
He registered that comment with a slight hardening of his jaw. ‘Well, all that is going to change. Your life is going to change.’
Suddenly she didn’t feel like eating any more. ‘You think if you throw money at me, it will solve the problem?’
Her eyes lifted to his and they stared at each other in tense silence.
‘It will solve at least part of the problem.’
‘Money won’t change the way I feel about you and, anyway, I don’t need your money. I can earn my own.’ Seeing the flare of disapproval in his eyes, she sighed. Even though she knew the truth, it didn’t feel good knowing that he thought that about her. ‘Look—there’s something I need to tell you—’
‘Forget it. I don’t want to know.’ His tone was clipped. ‘What I do want to know is why you were paying off Johnny’s debts.’
Hearing his name knocked the breath from her body and Jessie sank her teeth into her lower lip, appalled by the sudden slug of emotion that hit her. ‘Don’t say his name.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I—I can’t—Just don’t!’ She was out of her chair, heart racing, the breath trapped in her throat, the food on her plate forgotten.
‘You’re paying for his mistakes, Jess,’ Silvio said, his voice low and savage. ‘It has to stop.’
‘It will stop when I’ve paid the money he owed.’
‘They want more than money from you, tesoro.’
The endearment cut right through to her heart. She didn’t want endearments. She didn’t want anything from him. ‘I know.’ Jessie started to pace again, feeling trapped in a situation not of her making. ‘I know what they want.’ And the knowledge had kept her awake every night for months.
‘Maledezione, every man who looks at you wants the same thing.’ He was out of his chair too, his tone thickened with anger, his hand slicing through the air. ‘Do you know what those men in the bar were thinking? Every last one of them was imagining you naked and thanks to your choice of dress, it didn’t take much imagination.’
‘Joe insists that his singers dress like that.’
‘Because the women he employs provide services other than their voices!’ He dragged his fingers through his hair, his beautiful features set and hard, power and authority stamped in every line of his handsome face. ‘I can’t believe you’d do that to yourself, Jess.’
‘What I do with my life is none of your business.’
‘It’s just become my business.’ He was unyielding and remorseless. ‘Why are you wasting your incredible voice in a place like that? You could be working anywhere.’
Jessie looked down at herself—at her borrowed clothes—and gave a cynical smile. ‘I’m a nightclub singer, Silvio.’
‘No. You’re a singer. It was your decision to use your voice in a nightclub. There are other choices.’
‘Not for people like me.’ She told herself that it was his height and build that made him seem intimidating.
‘Jess…’ He spoke her name through his teeth, as if he was struggling not to ignite. ‘Your voice is exceptional. Truly exceptional. With training, you could go right to the top. You’d be an international star.’
Jess was still for a moment, immobilised by the vision he’d painted. And then she remembered that dreams had a way of crumbling. ‘Hard to be an international star without a passport,’ she said flippantly, and Silvio made an impatient sound in his throat.
‘So it’s better to just give up, is that right?’
