Not My Fairytale

Chapter 40

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A Bad Feeling

    Franco didn't give me a chance to avoid him as I planned.

    When I was awoken by Ava the morning after the Harvest Ball, she informed me that he was already waiting in my sitting rooms. I ignored the curious looks she shot as she helped me with my hair, then sent her to fetch breakfast for two.

    I still hadn't figured out what I would say to him. I had been up until the early hours of the morning trying to find the perfect lie that would get both myself and Angelo out of this situation free of repercussions, but could think of none. Franco was too smart to fool twice, and we had taken too many chances not to be caught again. In the end, I had decided sleep would do me more good than laying awake agonizing. I figured I would be better suited to scheme after a good night's rest. Except, I hadn't expected him to call on me so early.

    Now I was out of time.

We were fools for taking such a risk. It was a thought that had repeated itself in my head over and over since the garden. But I blamed myself wholly for it. I knew better than to let him stay as long as he did. And I absolutely never should have put myself in such a compromising situation with him in public. Signora Flori would be appalled if she knew. She may very well learn of it soon.

I was livid at myself, even more so that it had only been our second kiss in all this time. My reputation and all chances of gaining the support of the council could be damaged beyond repair over a love affair, and it hadn't been nearly as sordid as it would be made out to be by the gossips. I wished I had kissed him more, the day before the ball under the willow, the very first time he had offered one in exchange for information on the Blood Fangs, the day he had taken me on a picnic. Every time he had made me roll my eyes, or teased me in that all-knowing way of his, or coaxed a smile from me when I was trying my hardest to be stern. I wished I had shown him what he had come to mean to me.

He truly did mean so much. And if I stood to lose everything I held dear, then I would at least admit that to myself. Last night, with his lips against mine, I had thought that I could hide our relationship for the rest of my life just to be near him. Now I would face the consequences of such ideas.

I hesitated in the doorway to my foyer. I could feel the weight of Franco's eyes on me, but I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze.

My posture was visibly stiff as I crossed the room, sending up a quick prayer for the wits to get through what would come next. I perched on the very edge of the settee beside him, staring into the fire, waiting, but he didn't speak.

A few long, painful minutes later, Ava returned with the food and set it on the little table before us. I thanked her quietly, then watched as she scurried from the room as if the tension in the air were scalding her skin. I knew the feeling.

I was beginning to wonder if he was planning on speaking at all, or if he had only come to ruin my breakfast when his mouth finally moved, "How long ago did you meet?"

"I thought you didn't want to know how long it's been going on for?"

"I changed my mind."

My lips pursed, "We met in December."

I shot a furtive glance up at him to gauge his reaction, but a chill went through me when I took in his stormy expression. He was angrier than I had ever seen him, and underneath it all, I noticed the dark circles below his eyes, as if he hadn't slept the night before. What had he thought about during all of those long hours? What truths had he sorted out?