Page 32 of His Fantasy Bride (Things To Do Before You Die)

“No. He said he hadn’t come after me because he wanted me to return of my own accord.”

“Which was obviously never going to happen.”

“Obviously. Then apparently a few weeks ago, he was on this ship that sank, and he nearly died, and he had this epiphany so he had to come and find me and prove his love.” She ran her hands through her hair, clutching her head. “And it’s a total, total fucked-up mess.”

“Why didn’t you just send him packing?”

“I meant to, but he can be very persuasive.” She had a flashback to the feel of his mouth between her legs, his tongue on her clit, and a wave of heat washed over her.

“Gabrielle Harper, I know that expression. What evil thoughts are you thinking?” Theresa could read her far too well. “You’ve slept with him, haven’t you?”

She sniffed. “I haven’tsleptwith him.”

“You little tart.”

“Hey, well, I’m not playing the good girl any more. And I didn’t know what to say, so I kissed him instead and… Anyway, I have a plan. I’m going to let him get to know the real me. He’ll soon realize I’m not nice at all, and then he’ll walk away.”

“Shut up. You’re my best friend, and you insult my taste when you bad-mouth yourself.”

She shrugged. “Whatever. But the fact is the real me is so not his type. All I have to do is stop acting and wait for the realization to filter through, and I’m free.”

Theresa studied her. “Just tell me you don’t love him. Because that would be really bad. If he sticks around, one day he will find out the connection between you and his archenemy. And I’m guessing he won’t be pleased.”

No, he wouldn’t. He had such high standards, hated deception of any sort. It was one of the reasons she had agreed to the “no more sex” thing, however much she wanted it. Because she couldn’t sleep with him while she was… Well, if not exactly lying to him, then not telling the whole truth.

“Of courseIdon’t love him,” she scoffed.As if.But Gabrielle had loved him, and that complicated things.

“Maybe you should just come clean. Tell him.”

She knew she had to, and that once she did it would all be over. He would never forgive her. And she didn’t blame him. “I will. Just not yet. I owe Luca that much—I agreed, after all. So as soon as I’ve talked to Luca, which I will do as soon as I can pay him back, I’ll tell Vito everything.”

And then he would definitely walk away.

And that was a good thing. Really it was.

He’d never love the real her, and she didn’t want him to. Really she didn’t. He’d be murder to live with, always expecting her to do the right thing; she’d probably explode under the strain.

Why the hell did he have to come after her? If he’d stayed away, eventually she would have gotten over him, and he could have remembered her as the fantasy she had been.

Not the tawdry reality.

Chapter Eight

Gabby traced a fingertip over the photograph. “Oh my God, it’s a skeleton.”

Vito laughed at her reaction. He’d decided it was time to show her a little of his real life. Today she would see that he was just an ordinary guy who had been cast into an extraordinary situation by the death of his grandfather.

While she was spending time with him, she was also keeping her distance both mentally and physically, almost as if just going through the motions, waiting for him to… To what? Give in and go away, he suspected.

So he’d brought her to an archeological dig right in the center of London, run by a friend of his. They were in the office waiting for him to show up to give them the official tour.

“This was the site of the Bedlam burial ground, named after the old mental hospital,” he told her. “Though it wasn’t only patients buried here.” Vito had spent a week helping to remove the bodies when the dig first started. “It’s given a fascinating insight into life in London in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.”

“Are there still bodies here?”

“No, they’ve all been moved now. Transferred to consecrated ground.”

She gave a theatrical shudder. “And this is what you do? Dig up bodies.”

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