A Shadow of Guilt

It took a second for his question to register. She was too caught up in her reaction to him. Jerkily she nodded her head and then she realised that he was standing with another couple. The man was tall, as tall as Gio. There was a startling resemblance even though Valentina knew it wasn’t one of his brothers. A woman stood beside the man, his hand in a proprietorial hold on her arm, much the same way Gio now held Valentina’s arm. It was only then that she became aware of the crackling tension between the men.

In that instance some flicker of affinity passed between the women, even though Valentina had never seen her before. She was beautiful, with long straight brown hair and stunning blue eyes.

‘Angelo, I’d like you to meet Valentina Ferranti, the woman who has been in charge of catering for this year’s Corretti Cup.’

The man smiled and Valentina felt Gio’s hand tighten on her fractionally. He was stupendously handsome, even though he did nothing for Valentina. He put out a hand and said urbanely, ‘Nice to meet you. I’m Gio’s illegitimate cousin. I’m also betting against his horse today and I expect to win.’

Before Valentina could respond Gio was biting out, ‘She’s got nothing to do with our pathetic family dramas.’

Valentina took Angelo’s hand and felt something inexplicably primal rise up within her. She smiled sweetly. ‘We’ll be serving Prosecco and elderflower cocktails after the race to help you drown your sorrows when you lose to Gio’s horse.’

Angelo kept ahold of her hand and after a long moment he looked from Valentina to Gio and said with steel in his voice, ‘We’ll see.’

Shocked at that protective surge she’d felt to defend Gio, Valentina took her hand back and jerked her arm out of Gio’s hold. Focusing on no one in particular she muttered something about needing to check something and left the tent.

Thankfully things were gearing up for the big race so Valentina knew that Gio would be busy and unlikely to come after her and she needed some space. She couldn’t keep avoiding her own conscience after last night and that morning.

She found a secluded spot hidden away from everything and leant against the railing of a nearby paddock, resting her forehead on her hands. Her insides felt as if they were cramping. Her breath was choppy. She shouldn’t have slept with Gio … and yet, Valentina had enough honesty to admit that if she went back in time, was confronted with Gio all over again … no force on earth could have induced her to resist.

But the tattoo … what he’d been through after Mario’s death—it all whirled sickeningly in her head now.

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

Valentina was being pulled up from the railing, her heart slamming to a halt before she even realised that Gio had followed her. Sudden anger at this invasion of privacy when she felt so vulnerable made her lash out. ‘Nothing is wrong, Gio, apart from the fact that I despise myself for being so weak!’

Every line in Gio’s face stood out in stark relief. ‘I told you last night, Valentina. I give you full permission to despise me. And believe me, I have every intention of making you despise me over and over again.’

He reached out with two hands and pulled her into him before she could take a breath and then his mouth was fusing to hers. The kiss was desperate and brutal but electrifying. Anger and pain and remorse all clawed up within Valentina seeking release. Desperately she clutched at his head, holding him to her, allowing no escape. Teeth bit and drew blood before Gio stopped, breathing harshly, his forehead resting on Valentina’s. She was dizzy with the sudden overwhelming surge of need mixed with adrenalin.

‘Hate me, Valentina … not yourself. This thing … it’s out of our control.’

Gio stood up straight and pulled back even though it was the hardest thing in the world. Valentina’s smooth top knot was coming undone. Her mouth was red and swollen, her chest rising up and down as she tried to regain her breath. A few buttons had opened on her white shirt, giving him a tantalising glimpse of her lacy bra and cleavage. And Gio knew he had to get out of there now or he’d take her on the ground like an animal.

He turned and walked away before he did anything else and realised that, by the time this insanity was over between them, he’d be torn apart completely.

Valentina looked after Gio, struck dumb by his curt, Hate me, Valentina. Tears pricked her eyes. She wanted to call out; she wanted to make him stop. She wanted to say sorry. But like a coward, she didn’t. The truth sat heavily in her belly. She didn’t despise herself for being weak … she despised herself for feeling so many disturbing emotions for this man and for not having the courage to own up to them, or analyse them.

Distaste flickered across Gio’s face. The gala auction had been under way for some time now and the huge sums of money were becoming more outrageous as people helped themselves to increasing quantities of alcohol.

Not so long ago he had been one of those people, flinging huge sums of money into the ether in some desperate bid to seek solace.

His cousin Angelo had come to him before leaving with his date and had shook Gio’s hand in recognition of the fact that he had indeed lost to Gio’s far superior horse in the race. But to Gio’s surprise, while their conversation was sharp and cool, he’d felt a burgeoning respect for the man and they’d parted on more than civil note. He found himself slightly amazed when his usual reaction to anyone in his family was to walk quickly in the other direction.

A flash of dark red caught Gio’s eye then and he looked, his gaze stopping and fixing on Valentina where she’d just arrived into the VIP tent. She was wearing one of the dresses. The knowledge sent something very primal into his blood.

She’d somehow managed to avoid him all evening—always flitting to and fro on the opposite side of wherever he was, and too surrounded by people eager to share in his Corretti Cup race success Gio had been trapped. Until now. His whole body tingled and arousal was fierce and immediate. He’d had a vision of her in this dress as soon as he’d seen it but the reality was far more stupendous.

Her hair was up, in a slightly messy chignon, exposing her long delicate neck. Her shoulders were bare and pale. Her breasts swelled against the heart-shaped neckline of the dress and tight bodice before it fell to the floor in a swathe of silk and chiffon.

She wore no jewellery, and a minimum of make-up. And she was more beautiful than any other woman there. A fact which seemed to have impacted on not only him. Gio saw a lurching movement towards her and recognised the French playboy.

Gio was moving before he’d even realised his intention and he pushed down the memory of her words earlier, how deeply they’d cut into him. He’d followed her outside after their exchange with Angelo because he’d been stunned at how she’d defended him. He should have realised that it had meant nothing.

The hurt from earlier solidified in his belly and he blocked it out, welcoming the heat in his blood. This was all he wanted, this oblivion she could give him. And hate herself for, a small voice reminded him. He was too weak to turn back now and his vision went red when he saw his erstwhile friend reach Valentina and clamp a hand around her arm.

Valentina had just arrived back into the VIP tent. Instinctively she found herself searching out a familiar tall and broad figure when her eyes adjusted to the artfully lit space. When she didn’t see him immediately she blocked out the way her belly hollowed out. She felt very exposed, as if she was sending Gio some silent message because after a long intense internal struggle earlier, she’d finally put on one of the dresses Gio had bought for her.

It, and the matching underwear, felt exactly as decadent as she’d feared it would, along with the very scary sense of being on tenterhooks all evening, waiting to see Gio and his reaction. Before she could look further though, her arm was taken in a harsh grip.