Bodyguard Beast - Georgia Le Carre Page 0,66

there, I was careful not to meet Angelo’s eyes, and he seemed to have adopted the same method of defense, keeping his distance from me and avoiding any communication between us. It turned the atmosphere in the car so tense even Charlotte hadn’t said a single word.

The ride in the elevator was even worse. I met Charlotte’s eyes once in the polished doors.

She widened her eyes and made a strangling gesture with her hand around her throat.

When we got to the door, I glanced away quickly. “Thank you,” I said.

“I’ll be right here,” he replied quietly.

I nodded and rang the bell.

Almost immediately, a man answered the door. Dressed in a navy blue suit, a deep-red waistcoat, a pristine white shirt, and a flamboyantly checkered tie with the Gucci logo printed all over it. Like one of those gay, completely fun guys who would always be the life and soul of any party he was invited to, but he had his professional demeanor on now. He glanced at Charlotte with an unsurprised expression before turning his attention back to me. “Signorina Siciliano,” he welcomed politely.

“Yes, that’s me,” I answered brightly. “I’ve brought a friend with me.”

“Of course,” he said, stepping aside, so we could come in. “I’m Frederick, Mr. Fabio’s personal assistant. He sends his apologies that he is not here himself to greet you, but he had some urgent calls to handle in his study, so he’ll be a little while longer. Would you like to follow me to the living room?”

I sighed. What else had I been expecting? That he would honor the appointment he had set and extend the courtesy of actually being punctual? That would be like asking a tortoise to fly.

We followed Frederick through the foyer into the vast, high-ceilinged space. It was impressive to say the least with a sweeping staircase leading to the second floor. A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling. I guess it was befitting of his inherited status of stupendous wealth.

“Fancy,” Charlotte gasped at the grandeur all around her. “I’ve seen apartments like this only in documentaries about billionaires.”

“Well, he’s not a billionaire,” I whispered back.

Finally, we were led into the open-plan living area and kitchen with a patio beyond, that showed off breathtaking views from downtown all the way to the blue ocean beyond.

“My apartment back home looks like a shoe box in comparison,” she muttered.

I smiled at the exaggeration, despite the tension still sitting in the pit of my stomach as it had all day.

“Wow!” she exclaimed as she walked out onto the patio to watch the city spreading below her like a carpet of lights. It was beautiful and the skyline looked almost close enough to touch.

Frederick addressed me. “What would you like to drink, Signorina?”

“Any Merlot will do,” I replied. “For my friend, a white burgundy please.”

“I’ll see if I can find a good Merlot,” he said and walked away.

I sank onto a black leather sofa. It looked so pristine like it had never been sat on. I focused my gaze on the muted massive television set to the sports channel on one wall and tried to calm my nerves.

Charlotte joined me on the sofa. She squeezed my hand. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. I promise. One way or another, it’s going to be fine.”

I nodded. Then we both waited together for his majesty to appear.

Almost forty-five minutes later, after two glasses of wine on an empty stomach, he did. He wore a three-quarter length silky dressing gown over a white t-shirt. I hoped he’d worn shorts under that because what stuck out was a pair of surprisingly skinny and hairy legs. When he said casual, he really meant casual!

“I heard you brought a friend along,” he drawled, as he made his entrance, a tumbler of golden liquor in hand.

As he came forward, I noticed his face looked slightly flushed and his eyes were glittering. I rose to my feet, and so did Charlotte. “Fabio, this is Charlotte. She’s a good friend from Eng—”

“Any friend of yours is a friend of mine,” he interrupted expansively as he pulled her into his embrace, placing two noisy kisses on both of her cheeks. Then he released her and turned to me with the intention of kissing me on the mouth.

I jerked back. “Sorry, Fabio,” I said with an apologetic smile. “I detest the taste of whiskey.”

His lips widened with a smile, but he couldn’t hide how immensely irritated he felt at how I’d dared to block him. His