Chapter Twelve
She came out looking like a million bucks. All in the span of twelve minutes. The woman knew what punctuality meant. He’d give her that.
As she stepped out of the hotel’s rear exit, he was struck at her how graceful she was. There was something in the way she moved, a sensuality in her gait that automatically lured eyes in her wake.
No wonder Jordana Almueda was a fixture at countless runway shows all over the world.
She donned confidence like a cloak, looking nonchalant and composed. It gave no warning of her underlying tempestuous nature.
Mesmerizing and treacherous.
She gave him a black look as soon as she caught sight of him. Squaring her shoulders and rebelliously raising her chin, she walked toward him. She stopped within three feet of him.
“Before I step inside that limo, I want reassurance that you’ll leave Leandro alone.”
He hated hearing that name. He should tell her that she was in no position to negotiate with him. But he chose to give her this one indulgence.
“Fine.” He flipped his phone from his pocket and called one of his banks to extend Leandro’s outstanding loans and guarantee the amount of eighty million Euros. After finishing the call, he shifted his eyes back to her. “Any more special favors for your pimp?” he asked with a sneer.
She visibly bristled. “Don’t you call him that! How dare you criticize him? He’s twice the man you’ll ever be!”
“I beg to disagree, carissima, I’ve no doubt I’m twice the man on where it counts.”
“You’re disgusting!”
“Just keeping it real, Jordana.”
“I want everything in writing.”
“You don’t trust my word? Now I’m hurt.”
“Would you trust a snake?”
“Careful, cara.”
“You have no honor.”
“My word is my honor. That should be enough.”
“I insist. I want everything in black and white,” she insisted adamantly.
That was ballsy. No woman ever dared to go toe to toe with him in the past.
He considered her request. She had a point. Drawing a contract can protect him from her greedy paws in the future.
“I have to say I admire your shrewd business sense. Okay, I’ll have my lawyer draft something up. You’ll have it by tomorrow.”
She opened her mouth to say something but probably changed her mind. She nodded, finally reassured. Good. He wasn’t amenable to give her another advantageous inch.
He opened the passenger side of the limo and she went inside without demur. She sat at the farthest side of the vehicle.
He scowled at her.
Stormy eyes clashed with his. “Can we go now?”
He gave a curt nod, reining his temper as he gave instructions to his chauffeur.
Their ride to the Charles de Gaulle airport crackled with tension.
She wouldn’t even spare him a look as they boarded his Gulfstream jet that would take them to Italy. She sat and was as quiet as a mouse.
Her silence was killing him.
What do you expect, Vitale? Can’t blame her for not being chatty.
He played every dirty trick in the book, railroaded and blackmailed her into coming with him.
He can deal with her anger. He’d eventually wear her down.
That should’ve satisfied him. Getting her on his plane where he could keep an eye on her was already half the battle. But he was not. Far from it.
Her lengthy, defeated silence didn’t bode well with him. He was surprised that he’d rather hear her spitting and fighting over this quiet stillness.
You’re letting her womanly assets cloud your judgment, Vitale.
He cursed inwardly .
He would deal with her later. Oh yes, he will.
She was all his. For a month.
In one month he can fuck her out of his system, grab the shares from his errant uncle and put his life back into perfect order. If she played her cards right, he might even feel generous enough to give her a substantial parting gift.
She was business, that was all. A means to an end.
You better not forget that, Vitale. His mind reminded.
As she sat beside Lonzo in the plush upholstered seat of his private jet which would take them to god-knows-where, Jordana continued to curb her tongue. She picked up her phone from her backpack and dialed the number of her agency. Francesca immediately picked up the call.
“Honey, I was about to call you—”
“Francesca. Uhm. Hi. Listen, I need you to free my sched for this month. I’m extending my holiday…”
“What?!” Francesca screamed at her. “Are you trying to kill me, child?”
“Something came up—”
“Uh-huh. Listen here, honey...if you’re ditching me because you want to get that bitch Chloe to represent you, just say so.”
Where did that come from?
“No! I’m not jumping ship!” she quickly reassured her booker.
“You can’t just run off to somewhere just because you’re not in the mood! I have already closed bookings! Do you understand that the agency can get sued for this?” Francesca said on a dramatic high note.
But she won’t be pushed into compliance. “Francesca, this is me. Since when did I let my mood dictate my life, hmmm? Never. I am a real trooper. I never complain. I am always on time. I work my ass off for the agency. This is the first and only time I’m asking you for a small favor.”
“Sorry, sweetheart.”
“You can talk to the clients and reschedule.You’ve done this before. Please, Francesca…” she pleaded.
“ A commitment is a commitment.”
Jordana changed tactics. “I’ve got this Chanel bag…”
“So you’re resorting to bribery now, eh? How could you even think…”
“…it’s not yet in production. I’ve got a runway sample,” she shamelessly dangled. She knew Francesca’s expensive kryptonite.
“…that I will even resist?” Francesca said, finally giving in.
“Is that a yes?”
“Done, honey,” her booker affirmed.
Yes! She sighed in relief.
“Why the hush-hush? Even the twitterazzi and the papz couldn’t stop you from sashaying at the major catwalks. Tell me, does that “something” got two legs? Is he hot?” Francesca asked slyly. “Wait! Don’t tell me…! The billionaire?”
She didn’t answer.
“I knew it! Okay, honey…the secret’s safe with me. I truly understand…about time you shagged…err…get your heart broken some time. Well, I can probably sweet talk these people to leave you alone for a month. Just a month, okay? Not a day longer! Now, tell me I’m fabulous.”
“Thanks, Francesca. You’re the best.”
“I know, honey,” Francesca said smugly before ending the call.
One problem solved.
Next, she dialed Leandro’s number. His phone rang for sometime before he picked up.
“Dana?”
“Leandro…I’m sorry if I woke you. Listen, there’s been a change of plans.” She spoke to her friend in Portuguese so that the man beside her cannot follow their conversation.
“What? I don’t follow—”
“Uhm…there’s no need for you to fly to Paris. Just head back to NYC. I decided to go on a month-long holiday. I need time to think things over.”
“Vacation? You? You never go on vacation. I had to drag you the last time,” he said, his voice suspicious.
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. Leandro knew her too well.
“I’ll be leaving for Italy. Just a little vacation. Backpacking in the mountains where these shutterbugs can’t track me. I’m sorry if I inconvenienced you. Look, I’ll cover the expenses—”
“Jordana, are you in some sort of trouble?”
“I am okay. I just need some…time by myself. For heaven’s sake, Leandro…this is my first attempt at taking a vacation in years! Can’t I be spontaneous for a change?” she snapped. She hated lying to him.
Leandro was silent on the other line.
“Okay. I’m sorry if I sounded like a mother hen. I’m just a bit stretched thin lately.”
I know, she thought but she didn’t voice it out loud.
“I’m sorry for dumping my problems on you—” she said softly.
Leandro grunted in response. “We’re partners, remember?”
She smiled. She loved him like a brother. She owed him this. “I know. I’m really sorry for—”
“You have nothing to feel sorry for., Dana. Now get off the phone so I can rebook my flight home.”
“Okay. I won’t take more of your time.”
“Call me as soon as you’re settled, okay? I got your back.”
“I will. Cuida-te. Tchau.” She almost choked with emotion at what he said.
I got your back.
And I got yours, Leandro.
“Tchau.” She said, trying to blink back the tears when she ended their conversation.
She turned and saw Lonzo giving her that knowing look.
“You listened, didn’t you?” she accused.
He shrugged. “Yes,” he said without any scruples.
“Looking for another weapon to use against me?”
He laughed dryly. “You haven’t been speaking Portuguese lately. Your accent’s a bit off,” he smirked.
“You dirty son of…! You understood everything I said—” her face reddened, horrified.
“Why didn’t you tell Bastian you’re with me?” he prodded.
“There’s no need to worry him.”
“And being with me would worry him?” he had the audacity to sound surprised. As if Leandro wouldn’t react violently if he’d known she went and made a pact with the devil.
She gave him a withering look before she turned her head away to stare out of the window of the plane. “You know he will. He already warned me about you, of what you’re capable of. Of what you are.”
He crossed his arms over his chest before he leaned back on his seat. “And what exactly am I?”
“The spawn of the devil,” she said before flashing him a look of pure loathing.
Two hours later, they landed at Rome’s Ciampino Airport. Jordana was the first to get off the plane, still tight-lipped as ever. His staff handled the immigration and custom checks as they waited. Once cleared, they exited the terminal where his black Maybach and chauffeur waited to take them to the villa. They sat in tense silence while their bags were being loaded in the trunk.
Lonzo looked sideways at her but she avoided any eye-contact. She stared at the carpark, completely ignoring him. When the vehicle began to move, he had enough.
“Have you taken a vow of silence when we boarded the plane, cara?”
She didn’t even turn to look at him. “I pose for a living. Now, thanks to you, I’m embarking on a new career.”
“Pretending to be mute won’t get you anywhere,” he remarked.
“I don’t get paid from talking, remember? You got the wrong supermodel. My last name isn’t Banks.”
“Being taciturn doesn’t suit you,” he baited.
“I don’t feel like talking. Talking brought me nothing but trouble,” she murmured.
He leaned back into the opulent leather seat. “Ah, less words…more of an action-type of girl?” he goaded.
She finally shot him a sideways glare. “Where is this leading to? I’ve agreed to be your sex-toy for a month. Exchanging friendly banter isn’t included in the equation. Besides, the secret to being boring is to say everything.”
He almost laughed out loud at her cheekiness. “Favorite quote of yours?” he asked, brows raised.
“Not mine. Voltaire’s. Maybe I’m doing this wrong.”
He gave her a lingering look. Silence was a virtue he welcomed in his female hookups in the past.Then why was he so pissed when she was being uncommunicative?
She took another sharp intake of breath.
“Can you please quit staring? Maybe I should try being a blabbermouth so you’d get bored sooner.”
He continued to study her, noting with growing fascination when her nipples grew rigid beneath the thin white t-shirt that she wore. He regarded her lush lips and reddened cheeks before meeting her eyes again.
He smiled as she frowned.
“Do you really believe that? Don’t tempt me to prove it otherwise,” he said lazily.
Her eyes widened. She wasn’t as unaffected as she would like him to believe. The rapid pulse at her neck beat in time with the rapid rise and fall of her breasts as she drew more air into her lungs.
“I hate you!”
“Careful. Hate is too strong an emotion to feel.”
“I wish to God I never, ever laid eyes on you.”
“Likewise,” he drawled.
“You use people and then discard them like trash. You just don’t care, don’t you? All you care about is money, money, money.”
“Stop pretending you don’t. Besides, why shouldn’t I? It makes the world go round.”
“It can’t buy happiness.”
“You’re probably aren't spending it right if it doesn't make you happy."
“I rest my case. You’re going straight to hell,” she mouthed.
“Hell is existential. It’s present where there is torment.”
“Then I must be stuck in one with the biggest tormentor of all.”
“Hmmm, must be hell for you to want your tormentor. Don’t worry, bella…you’re going to like my kind of torment.”
“Wow, your ego needs a zip code.”
He smirked.
“Confidence, cara. Not ego. I say it as it is. No frills. Only the truth.”
“What truth?”
“That you want me. Even if you dance around in circles convincing yourself this pull between us doesn’t exist .”
“That’s not true!” she vehemently denied.
“Your body can’t lie, cara. Not to me.”
“It’s just sex. I’m sure I can feel the same way with Chris—”
He continued to be impassive even if hearing Falcone’s name made him want to smash the football star’s face.
“You liked my touch. More than Falcone’s or any of those horndogs who vied for your attention. You want to be taken by me—hard and slow, for hours and hours. Proof? You gave yourself to me twice already.”
“You seduced me.”
“You like my kind of seduction.”
“Keep flattering yourself. Go on.”
Women fawned all over him, batting their eyelashes to catch his attention. This wasn’t the case with Jordana. She openly defied him. Which was contrary from what was written about her. The media hailed her as the ‘sweetheart’ supermodel—no airs, very professional and always a joy to work with, according to fashion insiders.
They must be talking about a different Jordana. Or her publicist must be really good.
The woman who sat beside him was one hundred percent vixen.
Instead of dousing his interest with her bitchiness, it turned him on big time.
“Why don’t you just accept that you’re as attracted to me as I am to you. Let’s enjoy the fire until it burns out.”
He silently groaned when he saw her tongue slip to wet her lips. Her amazing eyes sparkled with both outrage and desire.
Damn, that was hot!
“Don’t get too cocky, Vitale. This is nothing but a business deal. One month and I’m out.” She lifted her chin insolently, but the huskiness in her voice gave her away.
She unknowingly threw the gauntlet. He was always up for a challenge but he decided not to push too much tonight. There was always time to disprove her later. He had an entire month to do that.
The car stopped when they reached the villa, where his uncle was eagerly waiting for their arrival.
“We’re here,” he said as he climbed out of the limo first. He extended his hand toward her. “Time to earn your upkeep.”
If her eyes can throw poisoned shurikens, he’d be a dead man by now.
Challenge accepted.
He was the most arrogant, conceited man she had ever met! She had met a lot of asshats over the years but compared to the billionaire, they were like harmless puppies.
She thought she knew how to handle men, having worked with some of the most beautiful male species on the planet and the most egoistic photographers in the business. She knew when to befriend them, when to stroke their egos, when to put her foot down and when to keep them at arm’s length. Several who were too forward or couldn’t take no for an answer were dealt with by Leandro with efficiency. Sometimes she simply took the classic female route—run away.
Until a Neanderthal named Lonzo Vitale came along and threw away all her carefully-built defenses, turning her into this wanton woman she could no longer identify with.
She eyed the strong, graceful hand that he’d extended toward her. She wanted to slap it away but she knew he’d make her pay one way or another. She was too tired and drained to fight him tonight. She took another deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment.
She was about to begin her month-long role as his…concubine. What an old-fashioned word for a kept woman, a mistress, a sexual vessel. It left a bitter taste in her mouth.
It doesn’t matter, she told herself sternly. It’s all over in thirty days.
She would let him have his way with her as he’d diabolically planned. She’d endure his hands on her, would let him kiss her into submission; allow him to possess her again and again with his sinuous, hard body.
A month of sex with him was but a small price to pay to save Leandro from financial ruin.
Only, she would be lying about the “enduring” part of the arrangement. Her body would continue to betray her. Damn her weak flesh.
Then I’ll hate him with my heart and mind, she told herself.
His sardonic voice sliced through her musings. “Praying to the gods, amore?”
She opened her eyes and stared back at him angrily.
“I need all the divine help I can get. I’m about to embark on an month-long ordeal with the devil,” she retorted as she swung her long, graceful legs to let herself out of the vehicle.
The woman is una strega, Lonzo thought as he watched his normally cantankerous uncle fall under her spell.
As soon as she stepped out of the limo earlier, all she did was flash that perfect smile that bagged her millions in endorsements to his poor uncle and by God, how his poor uncle never stood a chance. The woman had his Thio Fredo eating out of her hand.
The old man was charmed when upon introduction, she tried to say good evening in stilted Italian, kissing both his lined cheeks in Roman fashion. His notoriously aloof uncle fell for it, insisting that she call him “Thio” as he led her inside the villa.
Clearly, he underestimated her . She was able to keep up with the pretense as his charming ‘girlfriend’, even exuding what looked like lack of guile and warmth, fooling even his Thio.
He had to give it to her. The woman can take up acting after her modeling days were over. She might even win an Oscar or two.
“So, Lonzo tells me that the two of you met before the wedding,” he heard his uncle say over a late dinner of mostly Tuscan fare.
She gave him the briefest glance before switching her thickly-lashed amber eyes back to the old man. “Uhm. Yes. We were introduced.”
“He must have engineered the way for the two of you to meet again at Rocco’s wedding—” his uncle finished for her.
Thio Fredo was so wrong on that count.
Lonzo cleared his throat. “Actually, we can all thank Mel for that.”
Thio Alfredo’s dancing eyes met his across the dining table. “I knew it! You must have felt it when you saw her, didn’t you? That jot of electricity from Cupido.”
Lonzo frowned. He said what?! The dinner conversation was becoming bizarre.
She giggled before she openly laughed at Thio Fredo’s remark.
That was the first time he heard her laugh, and he too was enchanted.
“I’m sorry, Thio. Seriously? Cupid?” she smiled, really amused.
His uncle’s eyes turned soft as he looked at the two of them. “My father used to call it colpo di fulmine. Cupid’s strike.”
“I really don’t think Jordana would want to hear this—” he interrupted.
“As a matter of fact, I do. Do continue, Thio…” she insisted, paying him no heed.
“It’s what you will feel when you meet the special person which fate intended for you. It will feel like you’ve been hit by a big, fat bolt of thunder,” he said softly, like he was remembering something. A tender memory. “My father said that it doesn’t hit often. Just a lucky handful…”
“And when one gets hit, what will happen to the fool?” he can’t help but voice out a dig at his uncle’s theory on thunderbolts.
Jordana glared at him before urging the old man again, “Don’t mind him. He’s hopeless. So what will happen?”
His uncle, the old dog winked at her. “Then it’s the end of the search. They will be soul mates. The till-death-do-us-part kind.”
The look on her face was priceless. Her stunning eyes gleamed with wonder. Like a little kid who just heard her first fairy tale.
Really, she believed all that shit?
“So all it takes is one look and it’s game over? There’s your answer, Jordana. Lightning struck us according to Thio. Better get used to the idea of you and me,” he said sarcastically.
She whipped her head to him and in an instant, the wonderment was gone. Like it was never there in the first place. She just…shut off and this polite, ‘supermodel’ face was back on. Giving away nothing.
For a minute, he wanted to kick himself for being an ass.
Then she turned her attention back to his uncle and swiftly changed topics.
Then it dawned on him.
Delaying tactics. Extending dinner time would shorten his private time with her.
Figlio di puttana! He almost got hoodwinked again!
He studied her intently as she continued to engage his relative into exposing his gullible innards to this beautiful, deceitful woman.
He smiled engagingly. Let the vixen think she was in control. He would pull the rug under her the moment she least expected it.
She plied Thio Fredo with more questions without totally ignoring the man seated opposite her. Jesus. Who would have thought that acting as his besotted girlfriend would take this much work? Forcing herself not to glare at him was so taxing, it required more concentration than working on a huge fashion shoot in the middle of the Gobi desert.
“So all it takes is one look and it’s game over? There’s your answer, Jordana. Lightning struck us according to Thio. Better get used to the idea of you and me.”
For a while, she fantasized something like that could happen to…
Stop. Right. There.
He said that for his uncle’s benefit. Don’t fool yourself.
Besides, she didn’t miss the mockery in his voice.
What is wrong with you, girl? You’re too old to believe in kiddy tales and myths.
Maybe the notion of a Cupid Strike appealed to the romantic girl that she kept hidden for so long. Outwardly, if she didn’t know what he really was, he looked like a dashing hero. Albeit a dark, brooding one.
The man wasn’t bad on the eyes.
Okay, that was an understatement.
Who was she kidding? He was sex-on-a-stick. Her fellow models would jump on him like catnip.
Why are you so deflated about this? You know he spoke the truth.
This entire arrangement was phony. She was his pretend girlfriend-slash-mistress. Besides, the idea of Lonzo as her soulmate? Pffft.
Absolutely absurd.
You and him? Zero chance.