The Roman's Woman (A Singular Obsession Book 4) (11 page)

Gasping and sobbing, she grabbed her suitcase and sprinted for the door. She didn’t look back.

She was half-way to the airport before she burst into tears. Brushing them away brusquely with the heels of her palm, she took several deep breaths. She had to calm down, but the scene in the hotel replayed itself in her mind again and again. And what stood out was him—that stranger—sitting on the floor bleeding.

She turned to her taxi driver. “How do you call an ambulance in Italy?”

A week later, Sophia dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom of her one bedroom apartment. With forced mechanical movements, she brushed her teeth, staring at her drawn gray face.

It was quite an achievement for someone with her complexion to look pale, but she managed it pretty easily these days.

Sighing, she finished up and moved listlessly to her closet. For several minutes, she stared at her color-coded rows of dresses and shirts without seeing them. She had been back at work for a few days now. She didn’t explain why she came back early. The only person in her confidence was Kelly.

Her best friend had picked her up at the airport, prepared with a huge box of chocolates and a bottle of tequila.

It was a tradition Sophia herself had started in graduate school. She had kept chocolate, painkillers, and a bottle of tequila in her desk at work throughout her Ph.D. program. It was her emergency preparedness kit. Science was frequently a difficult and frustrating occupation and more than one of her coworkers had taken advantage of her stash. Kelly had been so taken with the idea that she adopted it as her own for her students.

Sophia had gone over the events in Italy with her best friend, trying like crazy to find an explanation for what had happened.

Who was that man in Italy, and why had he targeted her? Had he been trying to rob her somehow? Scam artists befriended you to get your personal details so they could steal your identity, didn’t they? Or did he target lonely female tourists as part of some sick game? Was that how he got off, seducing gullible women and then dining off the stories?

She could picture him now in some shady Italian bar, mocking her body with a group of other gorgeous Italian assholes.

After placing a fraud alert on her bank accounts and changing all of her passwords, she decided to put the whole mess out of her mind. But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t forget a thing.

She would close her eyes and see his smile. When she tried to sleep, his hands moved over her body, a phantom touch that kept her awake all night. It was the cruelest form of insomnia she could imagine.

The longing wouldn’t go away until she touched herself, masturbating in tears and pretending she was with him—the imaginary Gio who was a real street performer and would never dream of lying to her.

Sophia was only that weak at night. During the day she kept busy, fighting to maintain control with rigid self-discipline. However, in the space between tasks, her composure would crack. It seemed like her every emotion had heightened and run riot. Betrayal, anger, and fear were only the tip of the iceberg. She felt unbalanced and unsure of herself. How could she ever trust her own judgment again?

Stop it
.

She had to get to work. That’s all that was keeping her together right now. When her mother had died, she’d buried herself in it. It was a strategy that had gotten her through some tough spots.

So why did she suspect it wasn’t going to be enough this time?

To top everything off, she was going to have to wine and dine her benefactor tonight. Alan Weisz, her research partner, had been glad she’d come back early because he’d received word that a Morgese Foundation representative was coming to tour the lab. Last night, Alan had called her in a panic. No mere lackey was visiting. Instead, it was the man himself, Mr. Morgese, the head of the foundation and CEO of the Morgese bank.

Going out tonight to make polite small talk with some old money blowhard was the last thing she wanted to do. But she didn’t have a choice. It was part of her job to charm and impress the big money guys when they came round.

More science was being funded by private donors as government budgets for science research dried up. By and large, it was a good thing, or at least a necessary one. However, the timing couldn’t be worse. It was hard to feign enthusiasm for much of anything at the moment. Having to paste a smile on her face for the whole day was going to be a headache.

Once at work, she did her best to finish some work before Mr. Morgese showed up. Some of her ongoing experiments required sampling at timed intervals, and she preferred to do it first thing in the morning. After that, she set about checking the stock of the solutions she needed for the next round.

When she found that one was low, she threw on her lab coat and safety goggles to mix up a fresh batch behind the glass walls of the hazardous chemical room. She had just finished when there was a flurry of activity near the door.

Suppressing a sigh, she prepared for her meet and greet. Cleaning up, she decided to leave the lab coat on. It was always a good idea to play up to the stereotypes around the money people.

Tucking a lock of hair back into place, she pulled off her safety glasses and turned around…only to lock eyes with him.

Gio
.

Her heart dropped to her knees and she blinked several times, but the apparition didn’t change. Her phantom lover was standing there in a fine bespoke suit, a small Steri-Strip bandage at his hairline.

Alan was all smiles, grinning from ear to ear and talking a mile a minute.

“Here she is,” Alan said, turning to her and gesturing. “Sophia, this is Giancarlo Morgese. Mr. Morgese, this is our neurobiologist Sophia Má
rquez
.”

Her muscles locked, and she could feel the blood draining from her face. “No,” she whispered.

That wasn’t right. Clearly this man was an imposter. He’d already impersonated one man and here he was doing it again.

Why was he here? What the hell did he want?
Why was it so cold?

She wanted to run, but she was locked in place—until he moved. He stepped forward and held out his hand. For a moment, she stared fixedly at it. A hint of her horror must have shown on her face because he stepped forward again, in front of Alan, to hide her from view. Then he took another.

Oh, God.

Spinning away instinctively, her hand flew out, knocking over an Erlenmeyer flask and a glass jug off the lab bench. She swore as the jug fell and smashed open on the floor.

“Out!” she yelled, alarmed when she realized the flask was the concentrated hydrochloric acid stock—the biggest bottle commercially available. “Everybody out!”

Hands came down on her shoulders, but she pushed them off, turning around and shoving Gio back as the fumes hit them, stinging her eyes and nose. Coughing, she pushed him again until he was past the threshold. Alan pulled Gio back enough for her to close the door. But she wasn’t on the other side of it with them.

Quickly donning the safety googles and a mask again, she went to the windows on the other side of the room and threw them open. She grabbed the hazardous spill kit and spread garden lime on the corrosive liquid on the floor, then checked her clothes for places where it might have splashed, ignoring the commotion on the other side of the glass.

Gio, or whoever he was, banged on the glass, carrying on like the world was ending.

“Sophia, get out of there!” he yelled, continuing to call out her name until the whole lab gathered around him and Alan.

Everyone was watching him, watching her. She could see them doing the math, figuring out that they knew each other. For a moment, they stared at one another, her eyes accusing, his frightened.

Whoever he was, he was scared for her.

****

After she had neutralized the spill, the custodial staff came to clean up the wet lime from the floor. A small hole had burned in her lab coat, but her clothes had been spared.

It was also fortunate that she had worn her leather boots today. They had protected her feet from the acid, but she had a persistent cough caused by the fumes. The mask hadn’t been adequate protection—or she hadn’t put in on in time to avoid a little lung irritation.

The EMTs were currently checking her out. Giancarlo Morgese had insisted.

It was his real name. She had looked him up while waiting in the ambulance. They had checked her vitals and put her on oxygen. One quick Google search later and there was his picture on the Morgese bank website. Her Gio was the CEO of one of Europe’s biggest banks—also her donor and the lab’s main source of funding.

Sophia could still hear her supervisor doing his best to calm Giancarlo down, explaining that she had done everything right. She followed protocol for a hazardous chemical spill. Closed shoes and clothing that didn’t expose too much skin were lab policy for exactly this reason.

It was a rule often broken, especially in the heat of summer, but Sophia didn’t. Not when she was doing experiments. So a real disaster had been averted. At worst, her lungs would be a little irritated and she might cough for a couple of days.

When the EMTs told her to rest, she texted her boss. She informed him she was going home for the day and to make her apologies to their illustrious guest.

And then she cried all the way home.

Sophia had called her, and Kelly had rushed right over with two bottles of wine, proving why she was best friend material.

“This dress is worth thousands of dollars,” Kelly pronounced, fingering the fine cloth of the black dress lying across Sophia’s bed.

She hadn’t showed it to her before. It didn’t occur to her that the thing might be worth anything until Kelly had asked to see it.

“So how many billions do you think he’s worth?” Kelly asked, still stroking the dress as if she couldn’t help herself.

Sophia shrugged. The shock was wearing off, but the anger hadn’t come. Not yet. It would, but what she felt at the moment was confusion. Disbelief.

“You know he probably bought this just for you. It’s exactly your size.”

Suppressing a shudder, she took the dress and looked at the label. Kelly had found the designer online. It was an exclusive brand, someone astronomically expensive and way out of her budget.

“I don’t understand,” she muttered, passing a hand over her face.

“Well, I think I’m beginning to,” Kelly said, turning to Sophia’s laptop.

Kelly had been reading everything she could find on Giancarlo Morgese, but Sophia didn’t have the heart to look at any of it. Her head was still spinning. She reached for the glass of wine Kelly had poured for her, and winced as it burned on the way down.

Kelly frowned and took the glass. “Maybe you shouldn’t have that, after all.”

Rolling her eyes, Sophia took the glass back. “Don’t even think about it. Right now I need this more than I need you.”

Kelly grinned, and then hit her with a pillow. The doorbell rang, and she jumped up to answer before Sophia could stop her.

She put her eye to the peephole, and then turned to raise her eyebrow at her. Kelly didn’t even have to say the words.

He was here.

“Do I let him in?”

Sophia wanted to say no, but she couldn’t avoid him forever. He’d given her millions in grant money. Money she needed…

“Let him in,” she rasped.

It was time to get some answers.

****

Gio held his breath and waited for Sophia to answer. An excruciatingly long minute passed. Just when he decided that she wasn’t going to open up, the door swung open to reveal a short woman with sandy blonde hair. Her hands were on her hips, and she was glaring at him.

“You better have a damn good reason for doing what you did,” the woman said with a scorching glare.

“Um…” He stared down blankly at the woman. Did he have the wrong apartment?

Enzo, who had accompanied him and the lung doctor he had just hunted down, whispered in his ear.

“Oh, hello, Kelly,” he said with a heavy sigh.

This was going to be harder than he thought. Behind Kelly, off to the right, there was movement and he looked up to see Sophia watching him from the doorway with her arms crossed protectively over her chest.

“Did you receive the questionnaire from the real Giovanni?” he asked in a low voice.

Kelly twisted her lips, but it wasn’t a smile. “I got it,” she said.

“I see you brought the whole entourage this time,” Sophia said in a low voice, nodding at the men at his side.

Well, at least she wasn’t shouting at him. Of course, she couldn’t. Not with the lung damage she had suffered, according to the EMTs.

The yelling would doubtless come later, but they needed to take care of something first. He gestured, and the man on his right came forward with an awkward smile. Enzo nodded at the ladies and headed for the stairs before he and the doctor stepped forward.

“This is Dr. Saddler,” Gio explained, pointing to the short balding man. “He’s a top pulmonary specialist. I’d like him to examine you.”