Page 24 of His Beautiful Revenge
“Don’t give up on that dream, buddy.”
Tara was chain-smoking one cigarette after another. She had thought Giacomo would be angry with her, but the fury in him after she’d spoken to Norah that day was like nothing she had ever experienced. She’d chosen the wrong play. She knew that now, but still …Giacomo’s anger had scared her. He was clearly deeply in love with Lucian’s ex-girlfriend, and seeing Norah up close, Tara saw the beauty of the young woman. Her friendliness, and warmth ate away at her. She had everything that Tara wanted; everything that Tara once had and was desperate to regain.Joy. Beauty. Giacomo.
So, that hadn’t worked, but Tara knew exactly how to bring her former lover to his knees and she was looking forward to seeing Giacomo Conti utterly destroyed.
She pulled out her phone and dialed. “They’re atFonseca’s. You know what to do.”
She ended the call and started the car, pulling away from the sidewalk outside the bar.Tonight, it begins, Giacomo. Tonight.
Carmel excused herself to use the bathroom. She sighed to herself.Damn you, Tara, for making my friend so miserable.Giacomo was as devastated as she’d ever seen him. Carmel knew that he and Norah would have been good together. Maybe she would call the other woman to try and help mend things. She knew what Lando would say—don’t interfere.But she couldn’t stand by while two people who were as crazy about each other as Giacomo and Norah tore themselves apart.
She used the bathroom and was washing her hands when she heard the bathroom door click locked. She looked up to see a man entirely dressed in black, his face covered, and in his hand, a gun leveled at her. Her blood froze.No, this can’t be happening …
She backed away from him as he moved toward her. “What the hell are you doing? Who are you?” She thought she had asked him out loud, but realized the silence of the bathroom had been broken by neither of them, and when she saw a long silencer attached to the front of the gun, Carmel could barely breathe.
“Please …I’m pregnant …and I have a daughter, a seven-year-old-daughter …”
The first bullet hit her in the stomach. Carmel doubled up, the force of the shot taking her breath away. The second bullet tore through her shoulder, smashing her collarbone. She slumped to the floor, the pain taking over. Her killer calmly walked up to her and crouched beside her. Carmel tried to see his eyes. “Please …don’t…”
He pressed the muzzle against her belly and emptied the rest of the gun into her.
Orlando ended the call as Giacomo returned with the drinks. His friend looked around. “Where’s Carmel?”
“Bathroom,” Orlando said, then checked his watch, frowning. “Maybe she got lost.” He stood and looked over the crowded room. “I’ll just go check to see she’s okay.”
His heart was pounding as he approached the hotel bathrooms and when he heard the scream he started to run. A young blonde girl came out of the ladies’ bathroom screaming, and instantly Orlando knew. He grabbed the young girl. “What is it?”
“I think she’s dead,” the young blonde sobbed. “There’s so much blood.”
He burst into the bathroom, but then was stopped. It felt like a hammer blow. Carmel was propped in a sitting position against the far wall in a pool of her blood. He could tell instantly that she had been shot, her hand on her belly uselessly trying to stem the flow of blood. He darted to her side, his heart hammering, his fingers pressing against her neck trying to find a pulse.
“Oh,my god.” Giacomo’s shocked voice behind him. “Call 911. Now!” He barked the instruction at a shocked-looking bartender who scurried off. Giacomo approached Orlando, who was cradling Carmel in his arms. “Carmel?”
“I can’t find a pulse.” Orlando’s voice was haunting. His hand was pressed against her wounds, her head on his shoulder. “Please don’t leave me, Carmel. Please.…not now, not like this …”
As Giacomo watched, his friend broke down, sobbing over the brutalized body of the woman he loved, begging her to live …
The assassin reported back to his client, who thanked him warmly. She chuckled. “I wish I could have seen Giacomo’s face …listen. I may need you again in the future if my plan doesn’t work out. I may need you to kill someone else for me. Another woman. I’ll send you the details, but I don’t want anything to happen to heryet.Just watch her for now.”
The killer nodded. “And the name?”
Tara Hubert smiled. “Her name is Norah Reddy and when I give the order, I want you to make that bitch suffer before she dies …”
His lips trailed across her collarbone as he slowly entered her, his cock huge and throbbing as he pushed inside of her. Norah gasped, tightening her legs around his waist, and pulling his lips up to meet hers. “I love you, Giacomo.”
His eyes were intense on hers as he nodded, his skin on hers, thrusting harder and deeper with every stroke. “Ti amo, Norah, ti amo …”
Norah stood under the shower, thinking of the dream. It felt so sensory, so real—Giacomo’s hands on her body, his mouth on hers, his breath mixing with hers. Norah shook herself.He lied and used you for revenge, she told herself.It doesn’t matter how gorgeous he is, how much fun you had together, or how much you ache for him. He’s a liar.He’d broken all his promises, destroyed her trust, and hurt her heart. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She raised her face to the spray to clear the tears that suddenly dripped down her face.Focus on something else.Tara Hubert.Even now, the image of Tara’s triumphant face was clear in her mind. Norah smiled grimly. A part of her, she was ashamed to admit to herself, plotted Tara’s downfall. She could go to the press about the whole affair. After all, she didn’t owe anything to Tara and Lucian—nor Giacomo. Norah indulged the fantasy for a second but knew she would do no such thing.Don’t stoop to her level,she told herself.Prove I’m not like her.She finished rinsing the conditioner from her hair and stepped out from the shower.
Fall was setting in over San Francisco and a cool breeze drifted through her window as she dressed and dried her hair. Zulika had gone to the bookshop, taking Ziggy with her, and Norah had the day off.A day off to brood and stew,she thought. She decided to distract herself with some mindless television while she baked a cake for Zulika. She flicked on the television, only half listening to the banal chitchat of the morning anchors as she put together the ingredients for an angel food cake. The local news station interrupted as she was scraping the mixture out of the bowl into the baking tin. Norah heard the name and the blood in her veins froze.
This just in: Prominent San Francisco human rights lawyer, Carmel Price, was shot to death last night in the bathroom of a downtown bar. The Harvard law graduate was married with a young child. Police are searching for the gunman, who evaded the club’s security cameras, and say that the lawyer’s recent international courtroom battles may have something to do with the killing.
Her head whirled and she gripped the counter for support, suddenly breathless. She sank to the floor, breathing in great gulps of air and trying to clear her head. She moved her head and her ears buzzed. Her skin suddenly felt as if a thousand fire ants had stung her. She crawled across the floor to the television.
“No …no …” Norah couldn’t breathe as a photo of Carmel was flashed up, followed by a video of a distraught-looking Orlando carrying a sobbing Ferma. Behind them, Giacomo, his face contorted with anger and despair, cursed and pushed away the thronging paparazzi as all three of them made their way from the hospital entrance to Giacomo’s limousine. Norah’s breath was coming in short, panicked sobs now, and unthinkingly, she left everything as it was, grabbed her car keys, and ran from the apartment.
She barely registered where she was going until she pulled onto Orlando’s street and slammed on her brakes. What the hell was she doing?
