pressure, then,’ Fran quipped, but inside her heart was heavy. This whole deception had started to avoid Nonna’s illusions being shattered. But the way things were going, when she and Gio staged their break-up, an awful lot more people were going to get hurt. His grandmother, his parents and sisters…
And herself.
‘Come on, honey. Time to go home,’ Gio said, taking her hand.
Once they’d made their goodbyes and climbed into the taxi, Gio let her hand go again.
Well, what had she expected? That kiss earlier—it hadn’t been faked, but it hadn’t exactly been for real either. A dream that had caught them both up for a while, but now they were back in reality.
They were silent as the taxi took them back to Fran’s house, but she was shocked when Gio actually dismissed the taxi. Was he expecting her to invite him in?
As if he could read her mind, he said, ‘I just want to see you safely into your flat. And then I’m walking home.’
‘But you live ages away.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s not raining and the fresh air will do me good.’
He followed her into the lobby and she opened her front door. Her tongue felt as if it had stuck to the roof of his mouth, but she managed to get the words out. Even managed to get them to sound light and breezy, as if nothing had happened. ‘Would you like to come in for coffee?’
In response, he moved closer and brushed his mouth against hers. ‘If I do, we’ll both regret it in the morning. Because right now what I want to do is take that beautiful dress off you and carry you to your bed.’
That sexy, husky note in his voice was her undoing. He’d just voiced exactly what she wanted him to do, too.
‘Gio.’ She reached up to pull his head down to hers. Pressed her body against his, so close that she could actually feel his heartbeat. Hard and fast, like her own.
And he was kissing her back, gently moving her so her back was against the front door. He nudged his thigh between hers, sliding one hand to cup her bottom and bring her even closer to him; she could feel his erection pressing against her, hot and hard.
Fran had never wanted anyone so much in her entire life.
And then he shuddered. Broke the kiss. Disentangled her hands from his hair. Took a step backwards. ‘We can’t do this. In the morning, I’ll feel guilty about taking advantage of you.’
He wouldn’t be taking advantage of her. She’d be with him all the way.
‘So I’m going to leave now. While I still can.’ He closed his eyes. Embarrassment, or because if he looked at her, saw the sheer desire in her expression, his control would splinter?
‘I’ll see you Monday.’ He opened his eyes again, but didn’t look at her. ‘And thanks for coming to the party with me tonight.’ He raised a hand in the tiniest wave goodbye, and left.
He’d done the right thing. The sensible part of her knew that. It would be way too complicated between them at work afterwards if they spent the night making love. Leaving now was the right thing to do—not to mention the complication of this whole fake-girlfriend thing.
So why did it hurt so damned much? she thought as she locked the door behind her. Why did she want to curl up in a ball and cry her eyes out?
GIO didn’t actually see Fran on Monday, because he was visiting a franchise organisation. She was a bit hurt he hadn’t asked her to go along with him; but then again, it was probably better if they were apart for a bit. Sensible. It would give them both a chance to cool down and wipe out any lingering awkwardness from Saturday night.
On Tuesday, Gio didn’t even call in to the office to see if everything was OK. Which was good, she told herself, because clearly he trusted her to keep everything in the cafés ticking over without supervision. And that stupid longing to hear his voice was just that. Stupid. Teenagery.
Which was even more stupid, considering that she was twenty-six and sensible, not fifteen and full of hormones.
All the same, she made serious inroads into the box of chocolates Gio had bought her for winning the bet about making latte art. She needed the sugar rush.
But after work on Tuesday night, things took a dip for the worse. Fran had called in at the supermarket on the way home. But as soon as she pushed her front door open, she could see that she had a problem.
A huge problem.
There was a hole in her ceiling, and bits of artex were scattered everywhere. And from the way her sofa-bed was completely soaked, it looked as if water had come through the ceiling, collected in the gap between the plasterboard and the artex and stretched it out until it burst—sending water cascading straight down. Her carpets were squelchy underfoot, there were stains on the walls from where water had seeped through the gap between the ceiling and the wall, and already she could smell something unpleasant: wet wool, she guessed. Probably the carpet.
For a moment, she just stood staring at the mess, too shocked to move.
And then common sense kicked in. She needed to make a few calls. Starting with the letting agency, to tell them what had happened so they could book someone to come round and start repairing the damage. The insurance company for the damage to her belongings. And work, to say that she’d be in late tomorrow as she had a ton of things to sort out.
Which meant she was going to have to talk to Gio.
Well, this was business and they were both adults. So there was no point in putting it off, was there? She rang his mobile; he sounded slightly absent when he answered, as if she’d interrupted him in the middle of something and he was only paying half attention to the call.
‘It’s Fran. I’m afraid I won’t be in tomorrow—at least, not until late—because I need to sort out a problem.’
Her voice sounded tight and slightly anxious, not her usual cheerful self. Gio, who hadn’t really been listening, suddenly snapped to attention. ‘What sort of problem?’
‘My flat’s been flooded. It’s a bit of a mess. I just need to sort a few things out.’
She was clearly aiming to sound practical, but the tiny wobble in her voice told him how upset she really was. Knowing Fran, ‘a bit of a mess’ was an understatement. And even though he knew it was sensible to keep his distance for a little bit longer and she was perfectly capable of dealing with the problem by herself, he couldn’t just stand by and leave her to it. ‘I’m coming over.’
‘Gio, you really d—’
‘I’m on my way now,’ he cut in. He ended the call, closed the file he was working on, locked the door behind him, collected his car and drove straight to her flat.
Her face was tight with tension when she opened the door to him. Because she didn’t want to face him, or…?
Then
