Lonzo: Book 2 (Tycoon Series Book 2) (4 page)

He knew why.

Jordana.

He knew the provisos of this arrangement. He had thought of everything—including his parting gift—an expensive diamond necklace he ordered from Harry Winston.

He should be glad. He should be celebrating. He got what he wanted, on his terms. He had indulged for a month and was about to get his hands on the shares that his uncle held.

That was all that mattered to him, wasn’t it?

This was supposed to be a clean break. He had done it countless of times with different women.

How come he felt all fucked up…like he was about to lose a limb?

Was he losing his touch? Becoming a pussy like Rocco?

Fuck. No way! He would never allow that to happen.

He didn’t do romance and all that shit.

Jordana got under his skin and wormed her way inside his head. But that would stop now. He would soon forget her. She just caught him in a weak moment. Time to get back to his old life and slip back into his former skin. He had his fun and now, back to business.

He vaulted back to the villa.

As soon as he stepped inside and smelled the delicious aroma of his favorite dish, he knew that she’d been busy in the kitchen in his absence.

She cooked lunch and from the looks of it, she asked around for his favorite Tuscan dishes.

She beamed when she saw him.

Fuck it, things were about to get messy.

“I made
cacciucco
. Thio said—”

“I’m going out,” he abruptly interrupted.

He steeled himself and ignored her crestfallen expression. His chest tightened. He knew he was being a mean bastard. Someone had to play devil in this situation.

The air grew heavy with tension.

“How about dessert? I made
panna cotta
,” she continued, trying to salvage the situation.

“No dessert. I’m going out, remember?”

“But it’s your birthday—”

“So?”

Her amber eyes searched his face for the source of his sudden animosity. But he had mastered this game. She saw only the emotionless mask he had on.

Those eyes said it all. What she wanted him to say out loud. That this wasn’t the end.

But he could never utter the words. Not in this lifetime. Not for any woman.

Silence stretched for what seemed like an eternity. He saw her valiantly fight to contain her emotions, saw how she failed to put a leash on her feelings. Saw her beautiful eyes dim.

She was withdrawing, back into her shell.

“Why are you being like this?”

“What?”

“Explain this.”

“No.”

This time around, her eyes flashed in with unrestrained anger.

“Yes! Because I spent an entire month in your bed. I think I more than earned it! So spit it out, Lonzo!” she threw at him, furious.

“There’s nothing to explain, Jordana. Time’s up. We’re leaving the island as scheduled.” His voice came out as cold. Devoid of feeling.

“So that’s it?!” Her voice cracked noticeably.

No it’s not!
he wanted to say. “Would you rather hear lies?”

“Surely these past two weeks must’ve meant something to you—” she said, rapidly blinking away tears.

“It did. We had fun times. Now, it has come to an end.”

She looked as if he’d just slapped her hard. “Fun? We’re having
fun
?”

“What do you want me to say? That you’re the greatest fuck I ever had? It’s not my fault if you misread things, cara.” he reminded her sharply.

She held her chin up high and breathed in deep.

“So this is the end?” her voice trembled.

What the fuck are you doing, you prick? Jordana is different
, a voice inside him bellowed.

Different? How is she any different from his mother and the countless number of women who had waltzed in and out of his life? They all wanted something he isn’t prepared to give.

Permanent relationships had no place in his life.

He gave her a hard stare.

“Yes.”

Her amber orbs glistened at his announcement. She stared up at the ceiling to prevent the tears from spilling.

You truly are a motherfucker
, the same voice supplied.
Have a great life ahead.

Don’t you dare cry in front of him!

“You’re the one who insisted that this will be for a month only.”

“I thought—”

Oh God, shut up! Shut up now! Don’t humiliate yourself further!

“Obviously, you thought wrong.”

“You held my hand…we talked…all of that was…you played me the entire time,” her voice trailed.

“I was being social.”

“I trusted you.”

“What makes you think I will ever trust someone like you? A woman who thinks losing her virginity is a career move?” he sneered.

“It wasn’t!”

“So you say. But your actions speak differently. You were the one who went running to the biggest tabloid on the planet, not me.”

“I did not...damn you! I never did anything you accuse me of!” she shot back in outrage.

He walked toward her to grab and grip her shoulders hard.

“Let me warn you this time, Jordana. Rat this to the rag mags again and you’ll wish you’ve never been born. I’ll go after Bastian first. By the time I’m done with him, no one will consider him even for a menial job. Then I’ll destroy you.”

He issued the threat so easily, his eyes remote and cold. Who was this man? How could she just stand this? How could she allow him to destroy her mercilessly for imagined wrongdoings? She was innocent! Where was her pride?

“I. Hate. You,” she spewed.

“Good,” he said coolly. “I’m more used to hate, cara. So you’re welcome to loathe and vilify me.”

“I thought you were a better man than this. That you were worth loving.”

He grinned. “I knew it. Ah, cara. You disappoint me. For a while you had me thinking you wouldn’t pull out the guilt card.”

“You bastard!”

“What’s next? Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for me.”

She couldn’t form a reply. The breath got sucked out of her.

“I told you from the beginning. I don’t want your love. I will not love you back. Don’t turn the waterworks and blame me. What we had was very good sex. Spectacular sex. But it’s just that. Sex.”

It was the last straw. How dare he mock her love like it was nothing?

Pride and self-respect fueled her to pick up the pieces of her mangled heart.

You will walk away from this with your head held up high. You shall not grovel
, her brain finally took control after her heart failed miserably.

She looked up at him, her eyes narrowed. “Believe what you want to believe. I won’t waste my breath for appeals. They were right. You don’t have a heart. I pity your next woman, Lonzo. I really do.”

He didn’t respond.

She looked pointedly at the hands holding her. “I’ll have to go pack my stuff. Take your hands off me.”

He dropped his hold. “Fine! Go!”

She slowly turned away from him.

He wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her pain.

Years spent walking on runways became useful. Her legs were steady, her stride confident. She deserved a pat on the back. It was the most difficult walk she had ever done.

Her legs lost their strength when she reached the masters bedroom. She stumbled her way inside the bathroom, where her legs finally gave out. She was a tangled mess on the floor. She blindly grasped at one of the towels from the rail. She buried her face in it, hoping it concealed the tears and sobs.

Another panic attack hovered, but she fought it with everything left in her.

I will not break down. I’m stronger than this
, she repeated over and over.

She didn’t know how long she stayed huddled on the floor.

It seemed like forever.

Her eyes hurt really bad. Like she shed blood instead of tears.

She pulled herself up slowly and took a long, cold shower. As her tears mixed with the water that poured out from the shower head, she felt drained and empty.

When she finished, she stepped out of bathroom and sat on the bed, not bothering to cover up. She shivered. But she welcomed it—the numbness that came with the cold.

Afterward, she packed her things and booked her return ticket online.

She didn’t leave the room. She heard him knock at the door. She didn’t answer and continued packing her stuff. She did not go out to eat dinner. The idea of sharing another meal with him was revolting.

She climbed the bed and the tears began flowing as soon as her head touched the pillow. Her tears were silent this time as she blankly stared at the ceiling.

It was already midnight when she finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Lonzo called in for a chopper pick up instead of the yacht the following morning.

They did not exchange a word since their confrontation yesterday.

He instructed the pilot to drop them off in Rome instead of Montalcino. They stopped once to refuel.

She was relieved, in a way. She was a little worried at the idea of saying goodbye to Thio Fredo. She didn’t want to add any more to the lies.

Silence ensued as they made their way to Rome. She ignored him completely, preferring to look down at the panoramic view below than look at the man seated beside her.

A black Maybach was waiting for them when they arrived.

“The airport, Signore,” she instructed the chauffeur when he took her luggage. Lonzo’s head snapped toward her direction but he maintained his silence.

She endured another fifteen minutes of tense ride. But this would be the last time she’d ever share the same space with Lonzo Vitale.

When they reached the airport, he finally broke his silence.

“It doesn’t have to be like this. Don’t make me the bad guy here, Jordana.”

His derisive voice grated.

She gave him a cold stare as she was opening the passenger door.

“Shut up, Vitale. I know you have a big dick but your ego puts it to shame. Really. Me? Trying to guilt you? You have to have a conscience to do that. You don’t have one, remember?”

His hand snaked out to hold her from leaving the car. “Then don’t act like a victim. You agreed to this deal.”

“I really don’t care anymore, Vitale. Go rot in hell. Let go of my arm. I have a plane to catch.”

His astounded expression at her vicious retort was a balm to her tattered insides.

That's right, Vitale. Contempt will be the only emotion you'd ever get from me.

When she got out of the car, the chauffeur offered to carry her bags but she declined with a stiff smile. She needed to hold something to hide the tremor of her fingers. Or heck, if she heard one more insult, one of her bags would hit his head like a ballistic missile...

Without a backward glance, she walked briskly toward the entrance of the airport. She almost jumped when she saw that Lonzo followed her. An airport security guy approached him but he was instantly recognized. Even here, Lonzo had a lot of clout, she thought.

She frowned.

People were beginning to recognize them. Several anticipated drama in the works and began filming using their cellphones.

You guys are in for a disappointment.

After checking in her bags, she continued to ignore him and proceeded to the passenger lounge.

He followed and sat down beside her, close enough that she could smell his favorite aftershave which she quietly loved to inhale off him every time he was within reach.

What a difference a day made. They might be sitting beside each other but they were thousands of miles apart.

What the heck does he want now?!

“Jordana—” he began when her phone rang. She had switched it on while in the car.

Leandro was calling and she was quick to answer the call and pay no heed to Lonzo.

“Hi, Leandro—”

Lonzo’s head snapped up when he heard her mention her friend’s name.

“Where are you?” Leandro’s angry voice cut through.

“I’m still in Italy. But not for long.”

“What the fuck were you thinking, Dana?”

“I honestly don’t know the answer to that.”

Her offhand answer made Leandro pause on the other line.

“You okay?” his voice was laced with worry.

She sighed and bit her lip, as painful emotions coursed through her. She managed to fight it down.

“Yeah. I’m fine, Leandro. Don’t worry about me. I’m coming home.”

She heard him angrily swearing in their native tongue.