Page 4 of Under Her Skin
“Towhom?”
“Yes, towhom?
“Who boughtit?”
The questions came thick and fast. The auctioneer held his hands up. “I’m sorry, my friends. This is a buyer who wishes to remainanonymous.”
Arturo felt a rising anger. “They won’t be anonymous for long,” he said, grimly, and Peter sighed, mostly fromrelief.
“Let’s get out of here, Turo. I’ll buy you adrink.”
On their way out, and despite his anger, the thought of the beautiful woman drifted through his mind again, and he looked around, disappointed when she was nowhere to be found. He could do with an angry fuck rightnow.
Even as he thought it, he felt a wash of shame. No.She wasn’t someone he could forget the next morning. Something about her spoke to him in more than just desire; he felt connected with the deep sadness in her lovelyface.
He was still thinking about her as he got into Peter’s Lamborghini who drove them back to the bar in Como he and Peter owned, and he found, strangely, his anger had dissipated quicker than he would havethought.
He had to see her again—that much Arturo knew. He had to see her again…and soon. Because more than anything now, on this day of disappointments, he wanted to see hersmile.
ChapterThree
Hero’s hand shook as she signed the documents which would make her the owner of the Villa Patrizzi apartment. Five million euros. Holy hell. She’d had no idea she would go that high for what was essentially only four small rooms, but as the bidding went higher, it had become imperative that she secure it. It seemed impossible that shewouldn’t.
Of course, that was when she saw who she was bidding against.Him. The man she had seen upstairs; the man whose physical beauty had sent her body into a frenzy of arousal after just one look. His green eyes, brooding and dangerous, his dark curls…his incredible body in that exquisite suit…Jesus.As they had stared at each other, all Hero could think of was what it would be like if he were to approach her, touch her, fuck her right there against the window. God, she had gotten wet even thinking about what was underneath hisclothes.
And immediately she was ashamed. She’d never felt that way about anyone—even Tom. She had loved Tom with every cell in her body, but they had been best friends before they werelovers.
But the look in the man’s eyes had been a mirror of her feelings, she could tell. She only had to say the words…fuck me…and she knew without a doubt, he would not havehesitated.
And she wanted to punish him for making her feel like that, making her feel so disloyal to Tom’s memory, for taking that away from her. So, she bid a ridiculous amount to beat him to the apartment. And won. It was a Pyrrhic victory at best. Five million was a massive chunk of her settlement—and the apartment was definitely not worthit.
She pushed the thought away as she shook hands with the auctioneer. “Would it be possible for you to call me a cab,please?”
“Of course, Madam. Please wait here and make yourselfcomfortable.”
Hero sat back and tried to steady her shaking hands. Maybe she’d go out to eat tonight, walk through the town, mingle with the tourists, try to feel like a human being again. The paperwork on the apartment would go through quickly now, and she would be able to move in by the end of theweek.
Not that she had anything to move in apart from her clothes, her art supplies, and her books. She would have to find a record player somewhere and some vinyl: Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, maybe some Paolo Conti. She could see herself sitting out on the balcony overlooking the lake, her watercolor paints in front of her, listening to Billie. That, to Hero, was her idea of heaven. Maybe lunch: fresh bread, some cheese, a bag of sweet, juicy peaches. Cold white wine. The image was so appealing she found herself smiling to herself, and when the auctioneer came to tell her the cab was waiting, she found herself shaking his hand far more enthusiastically than she meantto.
Back at her hotel, she changed out of the form-fitting dress and back into her usual uniform of a grey-marl T-shirt and jeans. She glanced in the long mirror, noting that she should really try to dressbetter.
You look beautiful no matter what you wear.Tom’s words came back toher.
Her eyes filled with easy tears, and she dashed them away impatiently. Stop wallowing. She should go out into the city now, do some window shopping or maybeactualshopping.I have a new home. Time to get to knowit.
She grabbed her bag, slung it across her body, and left the hotelroom.
It was lateby the time Peter left Arturo at the bar and went home. Arturo, buzzy on a few vodkas, sat outside at one of the small tables, smoking a cigar and people watching. People-watchingandbrooding over his loss today.Damn it.Peter had talked him down from bribing the auctioneer to tell him who had purchased the Villa Patrizziapartment.
“Dude, don’t be dumb. Wait a couple of weeks until the person moves in, then knock on thedoor.”
“What if they have no intention of moving in? What if they just bought it to fuck with me?” An idea came then. “Fuck, I bet it wasGeorge.”
Peter sighed. “Don’t even go there, man. This feud you two have…it’s gone on for far toolong.”
Arturo’s eyes narrowed. “He fucked Flavia, Pete. He fucked my girlfriend and then told me about it after she’d beenmurdered.”
Peter nodded, his blue eyes serious. “I know, Turo. But…we all lost Flav, too. You knew he had feelings for her—and admit it, you did flaunt it in front ofhim.”
