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“It was a misunderstanding,” Bianca says softly.
“Well, the staff member in question has been reprimanded nonetheless and did offer her deepest remorse for the incident.”
“That wasn’t necessary,” Bianca says. “She was having a bad day, I was having a bad day, then we rubbed each other the wrong way in the wrong moment—”
“Then you stole the scarf,” I add.
“Then I… wait, no, I didn’t.” Her eyes dart to George. “I swear on my life, I didn’t realize I even put it in my bag.”
Bianca glares at me, which I have to admit I like, because I can see the hellfire burning brightly in those big brown eyes.
George smiles. “Of course you didn’t, it could happen to the best of us.”
Bianca shifts uncomfortably and gives me another glare, and I can’t help but grin back at her.
“However, I have asked Anastacia to assist with your shopping this morning,” George says and I see Bianca visibly stiffen as a rather cool-and-aloof-looking blonde walks down the aisle toward us.
Her eyes are narrowed on Bianca, but when she sees me, they flare with interest, and a confident, sexy smile tugs at the corner of her glossy lips.
But I stare right through her as if she wasn’t even there.
“Anastacia, I’d like you to meet Bianca, a very good friend of Massimo De Kysa’s,” George says. “I believe you have something you’d like to say?”
Anastacia bristles but hides it well beneath a façade of professionalism. But it’s killing her. Which is very pleasurable to watch.
She folds her hands in front of her as she addresses Bianca. “Of course, I’d like to offer my apologies for yesterday’s… misunderstanding.”
But Bianca knows a circling shark when she sees one and isn’t easily won over by the empty apology. She keeps her expression neutral, but that hellfire is still raging in her eyes.
“Thank you,” she says, her gaze burning into Anastacia’s cold expression.
The blonde stares back at her.
Jesus, it’s like a clash of fire and ice as they stare at one another. Like when molten lava oozes down the mountainside and meets the ocean.
Anastacia breaks first. She plasters on a smile and gestures to the shoe department. “Please, allow me to assist you in finding a pair of shoes for the ball.”
When George leaves to attend to another matter, and Anastacia leads Bianca into the shoe department, I take out my phone to ring Matteo for an update on Tony Vinocelli and to check if Damon has been able to locate Harrison’s bank records.
Bianca glances at me over her shoulder as she walks away, and I mouth, “Behave.”
Because I’m pretty certain leaving those two alone will be like pouring gas on an open flame and hoping no-one gets burned.
She narrows her eyes at me as if to say I’m not making any promises.
Which makes me smile again. Which I realize I’ve been doing a lot lately.
I have to force myself to make my calls because watching Bianca is proving to be enjoyable. I won’t lie. She is a distraction. I like her fire. I know her confidence is rocked, but it will be a cold day in hell before she shows Anastacia how shaky it is. Which again, I admire.
I find myself wanting to be around her, and as much as I know it’s a bad idea, sometimes I just can’t talk myself out of it.
I want to blow off the whole day just to hang out with her.
But it’s not my choice.
I walk away from them so I’m just out of earshot and make my call.
Matteo answers on the second ring. “Boss?”
“Any update from Damon about Harrison’s financial records?” I say into the phone, careful to keep my voice down so it doesn’t echo through the empty store.
“Not yet, but he would’ve worked on this through the night.”
“I want to know the moment he finds something useful.”
“Of course. What about the Vinocelli? You decided how you want it to play out?”
“We don’t make a move until we hear from Damon. I don’t want to go in with guns blazing and start a goddamn war only to find out they have nothing to do with any of this.”
“I’ll give Damon a nudge.”
“Good, I want an update by the time we meet this afternoon.”
Matteo sounds surprised. “You don’t want to meet earlier?”
I glance over at Bianca. I’m not ready to call it quits on our morning together even though I know I should.
“No, I’ve got an important meeting.”
“More important than moving forward with—”
I cut him off. “Yes, what I have to do is more important than any of it.”
Matteo barely hides the suspicion in his tone. “Okay, I’ll get onto Damon before then.”
I end the call and look over to Bianca, and a warm sensation spreads through me.
I smile, but it quickly fades, and I have to remind myself that this feeling is fleeting and not to get too attached to it.
