“Mafia humor,” Carla derided. “And no doubt, if anyone’s going to harm me, he’d prefer to do it himself!” she dismissed distractedly, knowing that if the man who had shot at them yesterday had been caught, then Leon and his men were probably at the same warehouse down by the docks where Carla had burst in on them a couple of months ago.
Not that she had any intention of going anywhere near there ever again. She had absolutely no wish to know what Leon and his men were doing to the man they’d captured.
Natalia gave her a rueful glance. “You don’t know my Papa very well yet, do you?”
“Nor am I likely to,” Carla answered the statement briskly. “Do you know what happened to my bridesmaid dress?”
“It’s covered in your blood and no longer wearable.”
She winced. “In that case, can I borrow some more of your clothes for a few hours?”
The other woman gave her a considering glance. “Everything I own is going to be big on you.”
“Well, as all your clothes fit you like a glove, I don’t see that as being a problem for the short time I’ll be wearing them.” Her apartment was only a couple of blocks away, which was why she hadn’t been booked in, like the majority of other wedding guests, to stay the night at this hotel after the wedding reception. A bookstore manager’s wages didn’t stretch as far as staying the night at a five-star hotel.
As it happened, she’d stayed here anyway. In the same bed as Leon.
Her breath caught in her throat every time she thought about that. Touching him. Caressing him. Tasting him.
She thrust her shaking hands into the pockets of the toweling robe. “I’ll get them dry-cleaned afterward and make sure they’re returned to you.” All of Natalia’s clothes had a designer label in them and a hefty price tag to go with it.
Natalia gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Don’t bother, I have plenty more clothes.” She gave Carla an up-and-down glance. “I bought a pair of white jeans in Paris a couple of months ago I was hoping to slim into but haven’t. I also have a loose red blouse you can wear over a tee that should go perfectly with them.” She grimaced. “I’ve accepted I’m never going to be slim enough to wear them.”
“Then why buy them?”
Natalia avoided meeting her gaze. “Some men prefer…slimmer figures.”
Men like Killian, Carla would surmise. Although the way that man looked at Natalia when she wasn’t aware of it, as if he would like to eat her, said he liked Natalia’s figure exactly as it was.
The younger woman stood up. “Come with me.”
Natalia’s bedroom looked as if a cyclone had ripped through it and then a bomb had been dropped on it!
“My God…” Carla muttered as she stood in the middle of the room, looking at the chaos around her. “I thought you were leaving for the airport shortly?”
There were clothes and shoes everywhere, draped over furniture, under furniture, on the unmade bed. The open doors on the wardrobe also revealed that was filled with yet more clothes on hangers, with matching shoes lined up underneath.
“I hate packing, and I have other clothes at home,” Natalia dismissed, expertly flicking through the few clothes left on hangers in the wardrobe before removing two of them, one with the red blouse on, the other the white jeans. “Here you go,” she announced triumphantly as she laid them on the bed before rooting through the drawers for a matching red bra and panties. “Use the shower and dress in my bathroom if you want to. And make sure you speak to the doctor before you go, or he could end up an unfortunate casualty of your decision to leave.”
Carla hesitated. “What about you?” The last thing she wanted was to be the cause of trouble between father and daughter.
“I’ll be gone before Papa gets back, but if he ever turns on me, then we’re all fucked,” Natalia predicted lightly.
After showering and dressing in the borrowed clothes, Carla did as Natalia requested and talked to the doctor. After checking and redressing the wound, he begrudgingly acknowledged she didn’t seem to have suffered any long-term effects from being shot. He agreed she could either go to her own doctor or the local A&E to have the wound checked again, if necessary. He also saw no problem with her returning to work later in the week if she continued to recover as quickly as she was now, but to desist if she had a headache or consult a doctor if she felt the least discomfort from her wound.
After all that positivity, he then strongly advised Carla remain at the hotel “until Mr. Brunelli returns.”
In return, Carla strongly advised the doctor to get the hell out of Dodge while the going was good, and in the end, the two of them left the hotel together.
As if in mutual support for the other’s actions, Carla acknowledged with a huff of self-derisive laughter. She knew that wouldn’t save either of them from Leon’s wrath if he decided he was angry with them.
The possibility of which might account for Carla’s restlessness once she was back in her apartment, despite now wearing her own clothes. She was also pacing the sitting room rather than resting as the doctor had advised.
Everything seemed…less after being with Leon. Less colorful. Less vibrant. Less immediate. Less aware. Less sexual tension. Less every-damn-thing.
Carla knew the reason for her frustration and anger was the promise she’d made herself a year ago after ending her engagement to Benny. That she would never again need a man, any man, in order to complete her happiness.
And she’d kept to that resolve, concentrating on her career and refusing any
