Page 27 of One Filthy Kiss

What did I do to deserve this?

I can’t watch when he cuts a slice of cake and swallows the first mouthful. I added my own twist to traditional limoncello cake with mint and honey and topped it with homemade curd, convinced that it would be the best cake I’ve ever made. But now that it’s time for the taste-test, I’m panicking that Gio is a sucker for tradition and that he’ll be disappointed.

Several agonizingly long beats pass before he turns to me and smiles. “Meggie, this is amazing.”

“Really?” I blurt out. “You’re not just saying that because you don’t want to upset me?”

“I’m not just saying it.” He shakes his head. “You should have more belief in yourself. There are plenty of successful bakers out there who are probably far less talented than you, but you know what sets them apart from other people?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “They believe in themselves.”

Amber’s hair is stringy wet, and her cheeks are flushed, but she is still buzzing with excitement after the busyday we’ve had.

Gio hasn’t mentioned going back to LA since this morning, and part of me hopes that it’s too late to fly now. Twenty-four hours, and I can’t imagine walking out of this apartment and never coming back. I can’t imagine kissing Gio goodbye, knowing that I’ll never see him again.

He refuses to let me clean the kitchen. Instead, we go to Fifth Avenue to buy clothes because our luggage is in a motel room in Los Angeles. That evening, we eat Mexican food in a small cozy restaurant owned by one of Gio’s business associates and are serenaded by a man in a sombrero playing multiple musical instruments on a loop.

Amber falls asleep in the car on the way back to Gio’s apartment, and he carries her into the guest room, where she curls up like a baby hedgehog, with her thumb in her mouth.

Gio waits for me in the living room with a bottle of champagne, and we have sex on the soft-pile rug next to the cylindrical aquarium.

Then we fuck on the couch.

And in his bedroom, which is all classically elegant navy-blue lines and gold accessories.

And in the rainfall shower which is the size of a small private beach.

He doesn’t mention Los Angeles the following day either.

We’ve settled into a routine of exploring the city during the day and tearing each other’s clothes off at night when Amber is asleep. I don’t share the bed in the guest room with her. Gio doesn’t seem to crave or need sleep, so we nap between fucking on the couch or in his bed or on blankets piled up on the floor in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline.

I’m conscious of the countdown to our return flight to the UK, but I pretend that the flights were booked for someone else. A woman I used to know back home in East London. A woman who no longer exists since she met Giovanni Sabatelli.

I know that life must return to normal, for Amber’s sake. We’ll go home to our tiny apartment that backs onto the railway line, Amber will go to school, and I’ll go to work, and we’ll talk fondly about our time here once we’ve adapted to reality again. But my heart aches when I think about it.

So, instead, I try to squeeze the most out of every moment, like getting juice from an orange. I follow Gio around with my eyes when he’s swimming with Amber or making coffee or opening a bottle of wine. And, when he’s close, I make sure that we’re touching, imprinting the feel of him into my memory. Because I can’t bear the thought that one day, in years to come, I’ll try to recall this special moment in time, and he will no longer be there.

Then, on the third day, I receive a text from Nikki.

Meg, someone has been looking for you here in LA. A man. I didn’t see them, but from the description the security guy gave me, I’m worried that it might be Amber’s father.

6

GIOVANNI

“I need to go.”

The color has drained from Meggie’s face. We’re in FAO Schwarz where Amber is trying to decide between Princess Barbie and Clawdeen from a kids’ TV show calledMonster High.

I hold Meggie’s shoulders and force her to look at me. The way her eyes are darting around the store as if she’s trying to follow a rogue wasp is scaring me more than her pale face and even paler lips.

“Why? What’s happened?” I keep my voice calm.

Ric is nearby, engrossed in the bright pink plastic car in his hands, and I have bodyguards posted outside the entrance and at the bottom of the elevator. No one will have gotten close to us without one of my men being aware.

“He’s back.” Her voice is barely audible above the constant chatter and laughter of the visitors to the toy store.

I lower my head so that our eyes are level. I can see Amber in my peripheral vision, and Ric has already replaced the pink car on the shelf and is watching us closely. I regulate my breathing, making sure that Meggie copies me.

“Talk to me, fiore.”