Ferrara
“You think he controls me?”
“One hundred percent.”
“Oh.” I frown. “Why haven’t you said this before?”
“Because you like being controlled.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, you’re twenty-seven and this is the first time you’ve ever snuck away.”
That’s true…. Hmm.
The waiter arrives at the table with another margarita, “Thank you,” I mouth.
“Well, I’m tired of living the way I do,” I announce, changing the subject. “Guess where I have to go next week for work?”
“Where?”
“Ibiza.”
“Ibiza?”
“Uh-huh the artist I am using for the hotel we are working on lives in Ibiza.”
“Convenient.”
“Yes, and my meeting with him is on Friday afternoon and then again Monday morning. So…I’m going to have to stay there all weekend.”
“Now, that is very convenient.”
I laugh. “Are you coming, or what?”
“Hell yes. I’m so off Frank it isn’t funny.”
“Why?” My face falls.
“My gut is telling me he’s cheating on me.”
“Since when?”
“I don’t know, but I’m suddenly insecure and I know that if your gut is telling you something, it’s usually for a reason.”
“Hmm…. I guess.”
My gut is telling me that Marcel isn’t the man I want to marry, but I’ll never admit it.
Obviously, my gut knows zero about what’s good for me.
“Has there been any signs or anything?” I ask.
“He’s been watching porn all the time, and different kind of porn, the girls are all blond, opposite of me. He’s working late a lot. Suddenly going away on boys’ weekends.”
“Hmm.” I twist my lips as I go over the evidence.
“Started trimming his pubic hair.”
Good God, that’s not good. “Well….” I shrug. “I mean….” I cut myself off before I say the wrong thing.
“Do you think I’m crazy?” she asks.
“Not at all.”
“Anyway…a weekend in Ibiza sounds just what I need.”
“Me too.” I smile.
“Got used to the idea of marrying Marcel yet?”
“What do you mean?” I frown.
“Well, you aren’t exactly thrilled about it, are you?”
I wince. “Is it obvious?”
“To me it is.”
“God.” I lean my face onto my hand. “Tell me to snap out of it,” I whisper. “I want to want this.”
“But you don’t?”
I get a lump in my throat as guilt steals my happiness once more. “Have you ever felt like you were a car crash waiting to happen? That you can see into the future at the collision, but you can’t stop driving toward it?”
“Every day.”
I smile, grateful for her undying support. Anna would support me into hell, and she has. “I love you.”
“I love you more.”
“I need to snap out of this, he’s such a good man and he really loves me.”
“That’s not enough to spend a lifetime with someone, Chesk.”
She’s right.
I blink through tears. “Anyway, you and me in Ibiza next weekend, baby.”
“Yes,” she says excitedly. “Any luck we will meet the men of our dreams there and they will be twins with big dicks.”
I burst out laughing. “Twins?” She laughs too and I take another sip of my margarita. “I have no interest in twins, I’ve got a margarita to drink.”
“Don’t get too drunk, you are alone, remember?”
“That’s right, I am.” I laugh. “Feels great too.”
“Okay, have fun. Love you. Bye.”
I order another drink and lift my glass to my lips and stop midair, Giuliano is striding through the restaurant toward me. The look on his face is murderous. “What the fuck are you doing?” he whispers angrily as he arrives at my table.
He’s wearing a perfectly fitted black suit and cream shirt, the scent of his aftershave wafts around me.
What the hell?
He towers over me, damn it, why does he have to smell so good, it doesn’t help the cause at all.
“Drinking,” I snap. “What are you doing?”
“We’re going.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” I sip my drink and look around, annoyed, I can feel the adrenaline as it surges around my system. “Leave me alone, Giuliano.”
“We. Are. Leaving,” he whispers in fury.
I glare up at him. “Are your ears painted on?”
His eyes bulge from their sockets. “Don’t piss me off, Francesca, I am too fucking busy to have to fly here to babysit you because you skipped your guards.”
“How do you know I skipped my guards?” I snap.
“Marcel Marso called me to tell on you, that’s how. Turns out he is useful for something after all.”
My mouth drops open in horror.
What?
That traitor, he knew I needed this. Maybe Anna is right about him. “Nobody asked you to babysit me.” I sip my drink as I act casual; the waiter arrives with another margarita. “Thank you, I’ll have another one, please.”
The waiter looks to Giuliano, “What would you like, sir?”
“He’s leaving,” I snap. “He doesn’t need a drink.”
“I’ll have a Blue Label scotch,” Giuliano says dryly as he pulls out the chair and sits down opposite me.
“That seat’s taken,” I snap.
“I know. By me.” He glares at me over the table, and I glare right back.
The waiter’s eyes widen as he looks between us.
“What?” Giuliano snaps up at him.