by Jessica Gray
“So…what do you do?” Gina asked him and Preston bit back a smirk at how forced the question sounded. She’s trying to be civil. You have to give her credit for trying.
“I’m a businessman.” He didn’t elaborate, not wanting to find himself the focus of another gold digging bitch. He was done with that.
Several minutes had gone by and her green eyes turned soft when she admitted, “Sorry about back the accident.”
“I shouldn’t have stepped on the street…”
“Yes, you shouldn’t have. Hasn’t anyone told you that a crosswalk is just white stripes on the road? Nothing to bet your life on.” Gina actually smiled as she teased him and her smile lit up the entire cab.
Preston fell completely under her spell and his body ached with the intense need to touch her or at least raise another smile on her beautiful face.
„I’ll keep that in mind and thank the ancient traffic gods for my rescue.“ Preston answered.
Gina broke out into a full-blown laughter. A laughter that rippled through him and made him want her even more. How much more desirable could that woman become?
But after what had happened this morning, he was through with women. They were nothing more than gold-digging bitches. Before…her, the woman whose name he didn’t want to spell out…Preston had been a player just like his younger brothers Tyler and River. Women had been playthings to have fun with. He’d been the man women loved to play with, knowing up front that promises of the future and a happily ever after weren’t in the cards.
Those times had been fun and without the complications that came with a relationship. He could slip back into his womanizer ways. In fact, a hot fuck with the gorgeous woman sitting next to him might be just the cure he needed to get over…her.
Chapter 4
Gina looked down at her watch and bit back a curse. God, I hope Signora Magnani is having a patient day today.
The taxi pulled up in front of the palatial hotel and before the driver could even turn and state the fare, she’d opened the passenger door and darted from the vehicle. In her haste to get to the meeting she didn’t turn to glance at Preston, nor did she wave goodbye or say thank you for the ride.
She hurried indoors through the revolving door, giving a curt nod to the doorman, and crossing the huge entrance hall at lighting speed. The beauty of the hotel foyer was lost on her, as she mentally prepared an excuse for Signora Magnani.
But a part of her mind chided her for being such a bitch. With Preston she’d shown the manners of a street urchin, which wasn’t the way she usually behaved. But this man had something that turned her insides into mush. And her brain cells to toast. He was amusing, funny, friendly, ... hot. Her girly part hummed at the memory of his intense blue eyes fixating her. And the smell of his classic, old-fashioned aftershave. His manners had the same classic, gentlemanly touch.
Gina sighed. No. It was best to keeping him away from her. For both of them. Between working two jobs, going to classes and studying for her final exams, she absolutely had no time for a man. Especially not an American tourist. Businessman, she corrected herself. Not even if he looked like Preston.
Especially not if he looked like Preston.
She hadn’t missed the way he’d looked at her. Undressed her with his eyes, carressed every curve on her body. She knew that type. The tourists loved to flirt with Italian girls. Apparently their travel guides wrote something like, Italian girls are wild and easy, and they are only waiting for fat and ugly tourists to hit the sheets with them.
Not that Preston was fat and ugly. To the contrary, he must be the sexiest man she’d ever seen. Anyhow, she had no desire to prove the stereotype true and share his bed. Liar!
Her entire body hummed with the energy exchanged between them in the car. She knew intuitively that the chemistry building between them wouldn’t burn out in one session between the sheets, and she needed his sort of distraction like she needed a broken leg ... or a damaged Vespa.
Hot shame flushed her cheeks as she remembered how she’d hit him with her bag. Worse than a street urching. What on earth has gotten into you Gina?
She worked as a tourist guide and represented the Italian culture and people. She knew how to behave. Always. While she didn’t particularly like Americans, she would never give them the feeling of being anything but appreciated. Her country – and she—needed the income from the tourism industry.
Gina reached the reception desk and gathered her breath before she smiled at the uniformed young man standing there, “Gina Giordano, Signora Magnani is awaiting me.”
The young man inclined his head and picked up the phone. He spoke into it for a moment and then replaced the receiver and looked back at her, “Signora Magnani will be with you momentarily. Please take the elevators up to the offices.”
“Thank you,“ Gina said and turned. The luxury of the hotel finally penetrated the haze of anger and coiling lust. She’d been in the Palazzo Borghese numerous times, and each time she was astounded by the luxury of the establishment.
From the outside, it looked like a huge palace rising five stories high, with elegant lighting, columns, and gold draperies in each window. The inside proved even more luxurious with gold and crystal chandeliers hanging from the domes architectural ceilings. The floors were marble and thick plush carpet, inlaid with gold and silver.
Red walls, elegant paintings and gold wall sconces made Gina feel as if she were walking through a royal palace. The ambience of the hotel always made her stand a little taller and feel a little better about herself.
Preston definitely looked the part of rich businessman who could afford to stay here. She snorted. She most certainly didn’t give a whit about his money. He could own the entire hotel and she wouldn’t care. Gina grinned at the thought. The hotel was owned by a corporation who possessed several of the finest luxury hotels and resorts around the world. The owner must be a multi-billionaire and definitely wouldn’t walk around Rome, stepping on a crosswalk in front of her Vespa.
She stepped into the small alcove that held the elevator and smiled at the uniformed young man standing by to assist the patrons of the hotel.
“I’m going up to see Signora Magnani,” she said softly.
He nodded and pushed the appropriate number, gesturing with his hand for her to step inside the car when the doors opened.
“Thank you.” Gina said. Inside the elevator car she checked her appearance in the mirrored surfaces. Her cheeks were flushed rosy and her eyes had a peculiar shine. She combed her hair with her fingers and produced a lipstick from her handbag. Despite her torn jeans she could still look nice and professional.
The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Gina straightened her shoulders and stepped out, plastering a non-committal smile on her face as she entered Signora Magnani’s outer office. She waiting patiently while the receptionist announced her arrival. Seconds later the receptionist ushered her to enter Signora Magnani’s office.
“Thank you for coming, Miss Giordano.” Ornella Magnani gave her an indignant look and gestured for Gina to sit down.
Gina shuddered. She knew she looked awful after the accident and under normal circumstances she would never have dared to enter Signora Magnani’s offices with torn jeans exposing a scraped knee.
Ornella Magnani was in her fifties, with pitch-black hair and always looked like she stepped from a fashion magazine. Her ladylike appearance never faltered, not even when dealing with a problem. She came from one of the long-established families in Rome, their roots reaching back to the time of Emperor Julius Caesar and from what Gina had heard and ascertained, her family had connections everywhere. Being called by her to perform a courier service was a big deal for Gina indeed.
“Thank you for calling me. What service can I provide for you today?” Gina said quietly, taking the indicated seat in front of Signora Magnani’s ornate desk.
“There will be a wedding celebration at the hotel two weeks from now.” Signora Magnani gestured to
a stack of letters to her left, “These letters contain the last-minute information for our suppliers and must be delivered asap. In fact, today.”
“May I see the addresses?” Gina nodded.
Ornella handed over the stack of letters and Gina quickly scanned the addresses, realizing this job would take her the better part of five to six hours. She wrecked her brain to figure out how she was going to accomplish the task of delivering almost twenty letters, across the entire city, without her Vespa. It was an impossible task.
“No problem Signora Magnani, I’ll get back to you tonight with the receipts,“ Gina said, hoping she sounded confident.
“The receipts can wait until tomorrow, as long as you deliver the letters today.” Signora Magnani said and stood.
Gina took it as her clue to slip the letters into her shoulder bag and stand as well. She winced when she straightened her injured knee.
“What happened to your knee?” Signora Magnani asked, eyeing the tear in her jeans and the small amount of blood that had oozed from the cut.
Gina looked down at her knee and then pasted on a too-bright smile and waved the injury away, “Oh, nothing. Just a bit of clumsiness on my part. I’m fine and I can get these letters delivered today, no problem.”
“Very good,” Signora Magnani said with a genuine smile. “I knew I could count on you.”
“I’ll get right on these.” Gina left the office and took the elevator down to the main foyer, still wondering how she would manage this herculean task. She closed her eyes for a moment, praying for a flash of genius as the elevator doors slid open.
Her heart missed a beat when she found non other than Preston standing face to face with her. She missed barreling into his hard chest by pure speed of her reflexes and almost lost her footing when his eyes locked with hers. Electricity arced between them and for a moment she considered sinking into his arms. But she tore her eyes away, shook her head at that silly idea and rushed for the hotel’s entrance without a backward glance.
Chapter 5
Preston bit back a curse at the renewed surge of lust being so near to Gina created in his body. He’d spent the last few minutes convincing himself the chemistry between them was pure imagination. Not so much. But once again, she’d been faster and had dashed of like the devil impersonated was on her heels.
He shrugged and punched the button to take him up to the hotel’s office a bit too hard. His hand thrust through his short dark hair, while he strove to control his anger and frustration with the day. In vain. The image in the mirror clearly showed his emotions. In an insane urge to be childish he stuck at the tongue at his reflection.
Satisfied with the result, he smirked and imitated his sister’s voice, “ That’s what you get for not listening to me. How often have I told you your girlfriend is nothing more than a gold-digging bitch?” Cheating whore would be more appropriate.
The elevator chimed and he smoothed his expression, giving his reflection a well-practiced friendly but non-committal smile. He needed to have a talk with his hotel manager Ornella Magnani.
She stood in the outer office with her receptionist as he stepped off the elevator.
“Preston, I didn’t expect to see you today. Is everything satisfactory with your suite? Is your bride pleased with the accommodations?”
Was it his imagination or did Ornella pronounce the word bride with disgust? No, his tormented mind must be making things up. After working with Ornella for more than five years, he’d yet to see her showing any kind of emotion.
Ex-bride, he wanted to correct her, but the anger at Sandrine’s betrayal exploded again and threatened to overwhelm him. Instead he blurted out the only other thing on his mind, “What was Gina doing up here?”
“Miss Giordano works as a motorcycle courier and I contracted her to deliver some last minute arrangements for your wedding.” There it was again. This time Preston was sure that Ornella had raised a well-sculpted brow with the word wedding.
But what did he care? Sandrine was history. As was their wedding in a fortnight. And his entire plans for a happily ever after with the woman he’d loved. Who hadn’t loved him. The pain rippled through his body, tearing apart his heart, soul and mind.
“Motorcycle courier? Did you see her injured knee? She can’t go driving around like this. She needs to see a doctor.” Preston felt another sort of pain replacing the one about Sandrine’s betrayal. Worry about Gina.
“I did ask her about her, but she assured everything was fine and didn’t appear to be favoring it at all.” Ornella replied. “But let’s settle into my office. Would you like coffee?”
“Yes.” He answered absent-mindedly and followed Ornella into her office, where they sat down at the small meeting desk in the corner.
“Miss Giordano had a serious accident. I caused it. I was standing in the street when she raced around the corner on her Vespa and she crashed trying to avoid running me over. She hit the pavement very hard.”
“Preston, I’m very sorry about the accident. You and Miss Giordano were both lucky not to get seriously hurt. The traffic in Rome is not like you’re used to in America.”
“Tell me. I was stepping onto a crosswalk.” He said.
“Hasn’t anyone told you that a crosswalk means nothing in this city? It’s just white stripes on the road?” Ornella smiled at him and his mind jumped back to the gorgeous woman who’d said these same words to him less than half an hour ago.
“Well yes. But I didn’t believe it. I guess now I do.” Maybe I should start heeding the advice of well-meaning people? “Anyhow, there’s no way she can drive around with her injury, she needs to see a doctor.”
After a rap on the door Ornella’s assistant entered and served two cups with steaming Italian espresso.
“Hmmm.” Preston sniffed the strong aroma. “One of the reasons I love to come to Italy. The coffee here is definitely the best in the world.”
“The hotel imports highland beans from Colombia and the roasting is done by a long-established family-owned roaster. The best one in all Italy.” Ornella beamed with pride.
“It’s those details our guests appreciate and have come to expect.” Preston said, “But back to Gina. I will of course pay whatever her courier fare would have been, but you can’t let her drive.”
Ornella shook her head, “I would strongly advise against doing that. Italian women react allergic to being treated inferior.”
“I didn’t mean…I don’t think she’s inferior…”
“She will assume that is exactly what you meant.”
Preston bit back a curse and then asked, “Did she tell you her Vespa didn’t start anymore?”
“No, but then, it is a moot point now, isn’t it? She accepted the job and left with the final instructions for the suppliers.”
Preston’s stomach clenched and he remembered the reason why he’d come to see Ornella in the first place. “The wedding is off.”
“I am sorry to hear that.” As expected, she didn’t show any hint of shock or surprise at this announcement. In all the years they’d worked together he’d come to appreciate and trust his manager with everything. He’d never seen her anything else but professional and despite their good partnership she’d never dare to meddle with his personal business.
“Thank you. My ex-fiancé unfortunately had to leave the hotel, after she enjoyed our suite so much. With someone else.”
Ornella raised another brow and made a tsking sound, “That is indeed unfortunate. I will see that the security puts her on the blacklist.”
Preston nodded, unable to utter another word.
His manager used the intercom on the meeting table to place a call to the reception downstairs, “Armando, please see if Miss Giordano is still in the hotel and have her wait for my call.” Then she hung up the phone and addressed Preston, “If Miss Giordano is still here, I will retrieve the supplier’s letters. If not, I will call her cell phone. Tomorrow I will have my assistant call each supplier and cancel the or
ders placed with them. There may still be some charges.”
“I’m sure there will be. I trust you to deal with it and pay the fines with the wedding budget.”
“Very well. I’ll see to everything.” Ornella inclined her head and Preston got the feeling, that although she was too professional to show her personal feelings about this change in plans, she wasn’t overly upset or saddened by the wedding’s cancellation.
“Thank you.” Preston gave her a grim smile and left, feeling a myriad of emotions. Rage. Sadness. Shame. Since he’d first introduced Sandrine, damn her cold-heart, to his siblings, they had been trying to warn him that she was nothing more than a self-centered gold digger.
But Preston hadn’t wanted to hear it. In fact, he’d gotten defensive and irritated. He’d even threatened to not invite his family to his wedding. Guilt surged in him. Had everyone but him been able to see Sandrine for what she really was?
Being with that whore had injured the relationship with his family, and for what? For finding her naked ass up in the air, and another man pushing his dick into her. Bile rose in his throat and he wanted to vomit. Or damage something. Pound his fists into the wall until something broke.
Like a robot he made his way back to his suite, but when he used the key card to open the door, an icy hand grabbed at his heart. He wouldn’t survive seeing the crumbled sheets or catch a whiff of the unmistakable smell of sex.
He changed his mind and took the elevator down to the foyer, where he headed straight for the bar. Drowning his anger and despair with huge amounts of Martini seemed like a good idea.
Until he had a better one. He’d find himself a woman or two and screw them until he’d driven every last trace of his cheating bitch of an ex out of his system. A rich and good-looking guy like him could enter a bar and the girls looking for a hot night, no strings attached, would flock to him like a moth to the light. All he had to do was to pick the one he wanted.
