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“I didn’t wantanything.”There is frustration in his answer as if he’s pointing out the obvious.
“Okay, why are you giving me a lift?” I try a change of approach, determined to get him talking.
“Because you needed a lift.” I sigh. This will be a long car journey. I bite down on my lip, trying to think quickly.
“Why didn’t you want to hire me?” A stillness floods the car as Gianni swallows.
“I didn’t hire you. Piero did.”
“But if it’d been you, you wouldn’t have hired me.” His eyes slide from the road momentarily.
“No, I wouldn’t.” The sharpness of his reply pricks my skin. My stomach sinks. I want to ask why, but do I want to hear the answer? Will I be able to sit here while he tells me exactly what he thinks of me? I shrink back in my seat, gazing out my window at the buildings sailing past us. After what seems like an eternity, Gianni speaks.
“Why did you lie on your CV?” I flip my head around, and the blood drains from my face as he shoots a look at me. “Am I not allowed to ask questions?” I glance at my hands, my inner monologue screaming to get out of the car.
“I didn’t lie.”
“Then why did you omit five months of your employment history?”Shit.I’m scrambling through my thoughts, quickly trying to think of something to say, but wondering if this is his revenge for my comments about the application form. That smile of his flashes before my eyes. Will tonight be my undoing?
“I worked at a café, and I left.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” I wish that it were just it.
“Why did you not include it on your CV? Café experience would’ve looked good.”Fuck.He is doing his Spanish Inquisition thing again. Even with his eyes on the road, I can feel his stare boring into me, ready to extract my thoughts.
“Okay, I got fired. Happy?” I glance at him, waiting for a little smile of triumph, but his face is still.
“Do I look happy?” I laugh at this even though he hasn’t said it as a joke.
“You never look happy.”
“Maybe that’s because I’m not.”
I shuffle my body around, eager to change the subject from my employment history. “What could you possibly have to be unhappy about?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a successful businessman. You have a nice family and a roof over your head.” I don’t want to add he’s drop-dead gorgeous. “There are many more people in the world far worse off than you who are happy.” I wonder if I’ve pushed it too far. There’s a look on his face I’ve not seen before, and as his lips slowly part. I fear what’s about to come out.
“I lost my wife in a car accident two years ago.”
ChapterNine
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.Why did I open my big mouth?
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He secures his eyes on the road ahead as my gaze returns to the window. We make the rest of the journey in silence. My thoughts are running away with me as fast as the traffic speeding past us.
Gianni had been married.
This single fact makes me feel strange, and I am not sure why I’m so unsettled by this. He seems too young. He’s older than me, but I’m not sure how much. He must have married young. Is it shock I’m feeling? Is it because it is completely unexpected? I find it hard to imagine Gianni married to anyone. But it is for none of these reasons. Surely, I can’t be jealous of a dead wife? This is something I think is below the limits of normal human reactions. I’m sick at the mere idea that I’m pleased she’s dead. What kind of person does that make me if I am rejoicing at the death of some poor, innocent woman who I’ve never even met? Or is it the fact Gianni is so affected by this? The fact he’d obviously loved her so much, he wears his pain daily, consumed by a cloud of loss that his soulmate was pried from his arms at such a young age.
I shiver as a chill runs down my back.
* * *
