Page 58 of His Fantasy Bride (Things To Do Before You Die)

He’d told her he loved her. He’d never said that to any woman.

And the scary thing was, he’d believed it.

And it had all been pretense.

The real Gabby was nothing like the woman he’d proposed to on Sicily. He’d noticed that as soon as he’d met her again. But he’d concluded—totally incorrectly—that the first woman he met was the real one. The second had been acting a part for some reason he couldn’t comprehend.

Because there wasn’t one.

Christo, he didn’t know anything anymore. Who he was, what he wanted. Except he wanted Gabby.

Or Gabrielle. He wasn’t sure. Was one even more real than the other or had he yet to meet the real woman beneath the actress? He actually suspected that she was a mixture of the two. She said she wasn’t nice, but he reckoned she was deluding herself. Gabrielle had to come from somewhere.

She’d seemed so broken when she’d walked out. But could he trust any emotion she portrayed?

The real problem was he’d lost his ability to trust his own instincts. And he was totally pissed off at himself for being so easily played. Maybe one day he’d forgive Gabby, but he doubted he would ever forgive himself.

And her words came back to him.

Maybe he expected too much of himself.

The hotel phone rang and he walked across and picked it up, glad of the distraction.

“Mr. D’Ascensio, this is the reception desk. There’s a Mr. Scarlesi here to see you.”

For a second he considered instructing him to tell Mr. Fucking Scarlesi to fuck off. But he was curious. What the hell could he have to say? Was it about Gabby?

“Tell him I’ll meet him in the bar in five minutes.”

He put the phone down. At least it would take his mind off the pathetic state of his perfect fucking existence.

He realized with a jolt of surprise that he was angry.

It wasn’t an emotion he’d experienced much in his life. But now he was angry with Luca Scarlesi for his part in this. With Gabby for being so mercenary. Though, it did occur to him to wonder why she was still sleeping on her friend’s couch if she had a hundred and fifty thousand pounds in the bank. Surely she couldn’t have spent it all already. He was angry with his grandfather just for being the man he was. But most of all he was angry with himself.

Fucking furious.

He wanted to hit something or somebody. So maybe a meeting with Luciano Scarlesi was just what he needed after all.

He found him in one of the plush dark leather booths that lined the walls of the bar. He didn’t stand up when Vito approached, just watched him and sipped his drink. Vito tagged a waiter as he passed and ordered a scotch. He felt like drinking. A lot.

He slid into the booth opposite Luca. “What do you want?”

Luca watched him over the rim of his glass a slightly mocking expression in his dark eyes. “I was just curious, really.”

“Curious about what?”

The waiter placed his glass in front of him, and he picked it up and swallowed in one gulp, then ordered another.

Luca raised a brow. “My sister tells me Gabby…likes you. I just wanted to see what there is to like.”

Gabby liked him? Of course she didn’t like him. “If she’d liked me she wouldn’t have fucking lied to me.” The other man’s lips twitched. So he found him funny did he? “Testa di Cazzo,” he muttered not quite under his breath.

“What did you call me?”

“I called you a dickhead. You going to argue with that?”

“Hell, yes.” But the other man seemed more amused than anything else. “You seem a little pissed off, D’Ascensio. Maybe you need to get over it.”

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