Love in the City, an erotic romance novel (30 page)

“What was heard was a little distressing to say the least,” he continued, hoping to get a reaction from her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said as she removed her hands from his waist and shifted her stance.

He gave her a smirk. “I know you do, so denying it isn’t going to help. The entire conversation was overheard. Every word.”

“You know what,” she said, her face growing tense, “you were right, it is getting late. I need to be going now. Thanks for your hospitality,” she said as sarcastically as she could. She made to leave.

He held out his hand. “Before you go, I want to know why you’ve had someone planting all these lies online about the business, about me, about what I’m doing? Accusing me of illegal scams, illegal transactions, of duping investors.”

“Seriously,” she said, putting a hand on her hip, “you’re accusing me of being an internet troll and a traitor now? Ridiculous. This conversation is over.”

He pressed on. “You know, I wondered why you’d been asking so many questions over the last few months. At the time, I chalked it up to being interested in moving up in the business. But now I see what it was for. To give you enough actual facts to anchor your lies to, to make them seem more legit and cast just enough doubt about the company and about me, in the investment community.”

“And you got all of this from some bathroom conversation? At a busy, crowded event, where everyone’s been drinking, and you couldn’t hear people three feet away with all of the noise?”

“You were seen while you were talking on your cell,” he said.

“Bullshit, there was no one there…” she stopped herself. She realiz
ed she just implicated herself.

Giorgio smiled, nodding his head. Taking a chance with the bluff had paid off.

She glared at him. She huffed, stepping around him and went to the door.

He didn’t try to stop her. “I’m telling Nikolas. About everything.” He turned around to look at her.

She was holding onto the doorknob, her back to him. “He’ll never believe you, there’s no proof.” She left, slamming the door behind her.

Giorgio stood there for a moment, then reached into his pants pocket. He took out his iPhone and turned off the recording button.

Giorgio listened to the recording on his phone. He had captured everything from when Portia had started her intense, but ill-fated seduction attempt. He was relieved she had left, but was saddened and stressed over the necessary consequences of her actions. He knew what had to be done though.

He sat down at the glass and stainless steel desk he had in the far corner of
his living room. He enjoyed doing his work there when he needed to bring it home. Looking out over the expansiveness of Central Park helped to relax him and give him perspective. He gazed out at the colorful lights of New York beyond and let out a long sigh. Things would be different from here on in. He hooked his phone up to his laptop and copied the recording onto his hard drive. He saved it in three different places, plus on a memory stick for safekeeping.

Next, he picked up his phone and texted Nikolas:

Need to talk ASAP. It’s urgent. – G.

He then drafted a quick email to Nikolas and attached a copy of the recording. Less than five minutes later his phone rang. It was Nikolas. Giorgio leaned back in his chair and answered
it. “Hey man, we need to talk…right away…in private. Good, thanks…” He took a deep breath, set his shoulders and hit ‘send’. “Nik, you need to open the email I just sent you.”

Over the next half hour, he filled his brother in on what happened and Nikolas listened to the entire recording that Giorgio had made of Portia’s attempts at multiple betrayals. Nikolas was crushed. He decided he needed to get out of the house before Portia came back home. Giorgio invited him to stay at his place for the night for moral support and so they could talk things over. Nikolas agreed and they stayed up until dawn talking about their situation and the future. Decisions were made.

*****

Giorgio and Nikolas had each managed to get a couple of
fitful hours of sleep before heading into work Wednesday morning. They downed one pot of coffee at Giorgio’s place, then cup after cup at the office. They had meetings they had to attend and business matters to take care of. Plus they had a lot of new balls to get rolling and fast.

Giorgio, however, took the time before his first meeting to call Anabelle’s cell
phone. He had a lot of making up to do. Not surprisingly, he got her voicemail. He left a message:

“Anabelle, hi, it’s me Giorgio. I know you’re probably not speaking to me after the way things left off between us the other night, but I wanted to apologize to you. I’m really sorry. Listen, I need to talk to you. It’s really important. Please call me back. I’m sorry about everything…I miss you.”

He’d wait, for awhile at least, for her to call him back.

*****

Anabelle was sitting at her desk at work when she saw the number on her cell phone. There was no way she was answering it. She saw the voicemail indicator come on, but she didn’t bother to listen to it. Maybe she would later, maybe not. She hadn’t been able to sleep over the last couple of nights since her fight with Giorgio. She was in no state to talk to anyone except Sarah, least of all the source of her pain.

She had called Sarah Tuesday night when she got home. She ended up sobbing on the phone. Giorgio hadn’t said a word to her since he had stormed out of her place Monday evening. The painful conclusion the two best friends had come to, after talking for two hours on the phone, was that Anabelle was at best a distant second to Portia in Giorgio’s life and only there at his convenience. Whatever that meant for his relationship with his sister-in-law, they agreed they may never know, but the implications made their skin crawl.

Sarah had pointed out how Giorgio would just up and van
ish whenever suited him, canceling their first date, which had been the same day Anabelle had spotted him having a cozy, touchy-feely lunch with Portia, and then didn’t call her for two days afterwards. Next he had ditched Anabelle in the hotel room the night of the ball, after Portia had already pulled him away from her once earlier in the evening. Finally he had stormed out of her place when she tried to tell him that Portia was trouble and didn’t call her back after that. Not a word. All three instances had one factor in common. Portia.

Anabelle saw things more clearly after her conversation with Sarah. Sarah had insisted that Anabelle get out of the house and be with friends, so they had decided to meet up Wednesday after work at Painter’s Cove. It was typically a quieter night at their favorite hangout, so it wouldn’t be too much for Anabelle to handle in her frazzled state.

Over the lunch hour on Wednesday, Anabelle had received a text from Giorgio. She had grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of water and headed to a small park with some benches to sit and be alone
and just breathe. Thankfully work had been fairly quiet, so Anabelle could keep to herself. She had a pounding headache and felt stressed from the lack of sleep and the disaster that had been her relationship with Giorgio. She knew he’d be trouble, so did Sarah, and it turned out they were both right. Still, curiosity getting the better of her, she read the text:

My beautiful girl, I’m so sorry for the way I treated you. Please let me make it up to you. I miss you very much and I have something really important that I need to tell you. Big changes have happened. Please call me back. – G. xo

Anabelle went to delete it, but hesitated. She’d save it just to show Sarah later.
Whatever changes he’s referring to, he can stuff it,
she thought. She wasn’t going to be attached to his twisted yo-yo anymore. She needed distance and time to gather her strength and her sense of self back, and for her broken heart to heal. She figured he’d get the message sooner or later when she wouldn’t respond to him. She hoped it would be sooner than later, because this wasn’t helping.

The rest of her day at work went by uneventfully. She noticed that Raquel had left work early, so she followed suit twenty minutes later. She
was glad to get out of there.

Anabelle was on a train back to Brooklyn at 5
p.m. when her cell phone rang. It was him again. She knew she needed to stay away from him. He had too powerful an effect on her and she didn’t want to lose perspective and get caught up in something physical between them again. She didn’t think she could hold out at this point. Maybe in time. A long time. Maybe not.
Besides,
she thought bitterly,
one of the last things he’d said to me was that we both needed perspective. He’ll have to live with the fact that’s now our swan song.

Her phone beeped. It was another voicemail. She couldn’t resist listening to it. Besides, she’d need to fill Sarah in on it later,
anyway.

“Anabelle, I know you’re mad at me. You have every right to be. I was a jerk. Please give me a chance to explain some things, it’s really important. Can I come pick you up at work today? Please call me back when you get this.”

Ha,
she thought,
I’m not even there anymore.
She was even more relieved now that she had been able to escape early.
Thank heavens for slow workdays,
she told herself. She got home, took care of Jasper, and then changed into a dusty rose sweater and black jeans to go meet Sarah at Painter’s Cove for dinner.

Barry was extra attentive to them, not only because of his blossoming relationship with Sarah, but because he felt bad for what Anabelle was going through. He was a good guy, she told Sarah. She was a lucky girl. Sarah agreed and assured her that one day she’d meet her Mr. Right, too.

After dinner, two glasses of wine, a long conversation about men and dating and life and careers and dreams for the future, they enjoyed some dessert and espressos. Finally, Anabelle decided to head home. Sarah protested because it wasn’t very late yet, but Anabelle was exhausted, she had hit the wall from her two nights of insomnia. The two friends hugged and agreed to talk again tomorrow.

It was still light out, the sun had just started to dip below the horizon when
Anabelle made her way on the fifteen-minute walk back to her apartment complex. It was a well-trafficked area, so she always felt safe walking home as long as it wasn’t too late. The walk also helped to clear her head a bit. She was going to watch some TV, cuddle with Jasper, and then hit the sack early.

She arrived back at her apartment complex and headed up the long front sidewalk to the building’s entrance. She heard a car door close and then the sound of footsteps hurrying along the grass.

“Anabelle!” a man called out.

She froze in her tracks. Her heart
nearly stopped. It was Giorgio.

“Anabelle, can I talk to you please?” he asked, as he got closer to her.

She stood there still as a statue, barely breathing. Then she heard his footsteps stop. She turned around slowly. She swallowed hard. He stood there, about six feet away from her. She looked at him, then looked past him. His silver Jaguar was parked on the street in front of her place behind three other cars, but on the opposite side from where she had come from. She hadn’t noticed it there. It hadn’t occurred to her to keep an eye out for something like that.

Giorgio hesitated. He could see that she looked like a deer caught in headlights and she hadn’t said a word to him. He kept his distance so as not to alarm her. “Anabelle, I just want to talk to you. Please.”

She took a step back, still not saying anything. She looked at the front door of her apartment building, then up at the balconies that overlooked this side of the complex. She looked back at Giorgio.

He could tell what she was doing. Sizing up whether
or not she could make a run for it. It sickened him that she might be scared right now. “I don’t mean to scare you, but you wouldn’t return any of my calls. I just want to talk to you in private. Please.” He held his hands out in a gesture of peace.

She regarded him, taking in his posture, his look. He wore a
light turquoise blue sweater with buttons open at the collar, and casual, faded denims. His hair looked slightly disheveled and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. She noticed there were dark circles under his eyes. She pursed her lips.

He didn’t move. He
just waited for her to respond.

“Usually when people don’t return calls,” she started to say, “it’s because they don’t want to talk to you.” She gave him a hard look and tried to hide the fact that she was trembling inside.

“I know,” he said, his expression pained.

“And they also usually don’t want to be stalked, so then what’s the problem?”

He winced at her words. “I’m sorry, I really don’t mean to frighten you. I’m not going to try anything. Don’t worry.” He took a deep breath. “The problem, as you put it, is that there’s some things I think…or at least I hope… that you’ll want to hear.”

“I don’t think so.” She felt her temperature rise out of anger and embarrassment for having this happen publicly.

He looked down at the ground for a minute, then back up at her. “Please just hear me out. If, after that, you never want to see or hear from me again, I’ll leave and never bother you again. I promise.”

“I don’t know that there’s anything you need to say that I need to hear,” she replied, trying to sound strong
and bold. She was anything but.

He swallowed hard. His blue eyes regarded her for a few moments. He nodded. “I understand why you feel that way. I do. But please just give me one last chance, for the things we’ve shared, for our time together. Just give me a chance to talk to you. That’s all. Then I’ll go.”

Anabelle felt shaky, her emotions were bubbling to the surface. She had to go inside before she started crying in front of her building. Finally, she nodded to him, then silently went and unlocked the door.

Relieved, h
e walked up behind her, still keeping a bit of a distance so as not to unsettle her any more than he already had.

She didn’t look at him, but held the door open.

He took it and followed her up the stairs a few paces behind.

They hadn’t said a word on the way up to her place. Anabelle felt incredibly conflicted. Sarah would kill her if she knew that she was letting Giorgio into her place right now. But part of her was curious about what he had to say. Still, the memory of him leaving in anger the other night, not caring how it affected her, letting things hang in the balance like he had, especially over Portia, still stung. She started to feel queasy as she unlocked her apartment door. She feared she was making a gargantuan mistake.

In silence, they entered her apartment. Anabelle flicked a light on. Jasper came running over. He immediately started rubbing his sides against Giorgio’s leg and purring loudly. Giorgio bent down to pet him.

Traitor,
Anabelle thought to herself. She took her jacket off and threw it on a chair. She headed into the kitchen. She topped up Jasper’s bowl, then called out to Giorgio, “Water?”

“Please, thanks,” he said. “Do you mind if I sit down?”