Giorgio (Members From Money Season 2, #136)

Chapter 1

“You look like hell!” Julian tried to hide his concern as his sister slid into the booth across from him.

“Thanks...” She murmured dryly, picking up the glass of water and taking a sip. “I can always count on you to set me straight.”

“I ordered the beef sandwich, fully loaded and you are going to eat every bite,” his attractive face was set as if daring her to defy him.

“I am not really hungry,” she toyed with the utensils; her long fingers restless as she avoided his gaze.

He did not respond, and they waited in silence for their meals to arrive. Julian had threatened her when persuasion had not done the trick and that was what had forced her to be here at the restaurant to have lunch with him.

He had been trying to reach her for two days straight and had left several angry messages on her voicemail. His sister was suffering – had been through a lot since the start of the year.

The first hard hit had been when their only living parent had succumbed to his illness. After that, she had received the notice that the publishing house where she had spent her years working and putting in the time had closed and left her without a job.

On top of that, the jerk she had been seeing for almost a year, told her that he was no longer interested. Julian knew his sister was at a breaking point and was worried about her.

Their meals arrived and he started eating, lifting a brow when she sat there staring at the sandwich. “Don’t let me force feed you. I swear I will.”

Making a face, she picked up half of the sandwich and made an effort to eat.

“You have lost weight,” he accused her, “I hope you are not pining over that asshole. He doesn’t deserve one minute of your regret.”

“Jeremy and I were drifting apart for months,” she shrugged slender shoulders, “the split was expected. Julian, we just lost our dad, I am still in mourning.”

“And I am not?” Picking up his drink, he took a sip.

She did not remind him that he had a very lucrative career and a highly active social life. She had lost everything that mattered to her. Jeremy was not the best boyfriend, but the familiarity had been comforting.

She loved her job, diving into manuscripts and making changes had been fulfilling. Now she had no idea what she was going to do. She felt as if she was on a boat drifting upstream without a paddle.

“I want you to come and live with me. For as long as you want.”

She stared at him wryly. “You have a bachelor pad.”

“With two suites. You would have your own room and bathroom. It would be temporary because I know how much you value your privacy.”

“You use the extra room as an office.”

“That can be remedied. I can set up my desk and cabinets in my bedroom, it’s large enough to accommodate everything I need.” Leaning forward, he continued in an intense tone. He had thought about it while he was driving to the restaurant and the idea had taken root.

“I earn a damn good living and…”

“No.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I am not going to start depending on you.”

He stared at her in frustration. “You are my bloody sister, my twin, we shared the same egg, and I happen to be older than you are.”

“By five minutes,” she reminded him whimsically.

“We are not going into semantics. I am supposed to look out for you. You insisted on contributing to dad’s care and it practically wiped out your savings. How the hell are you going to pay your rent?”

“I will figure something out.”

“Oh, for Crissakes!” He lapsed into silence and took a healthy bite of his sandwich as he glowered at her. His heart ached to see her like this. They were both mourning the loss of their dad, but she was feeling it a lot more than he was.

Juliana had been the apple of their father’s eyes, and she adored him. He had never minded it because he had been his mother’s favorite. His sister’s face was drawn, the light gone out of her large dark brown eyes.

Her face looked even smaller than usual, making her eyes appear larger. Her hair was cropped short, the natural curls dark and glossy. Her ebony complexion was flawless, her face devoid of makeup. The sweater she was wearing was hanging off her slender body in a shapeless heap. He hated seeing her like this and was determined to do something about it.

“I am booking you on a trip to Italy.”

She blinked at him, not sure she heard him right. “What?”

Picking up the next half of his sandwich, he took a bite. “Three weeks in Italy. You could visit Rome, Venice, and Pompeii. And take a trip to Tuscany.”

“Are you crazy?”

“No. It’s either that, or you are coming to live with me. You need a break, Jules; you have suffered several traumas, and you need this time away to think about what to do next. The lease on that crummy apartment is almost up. I will arrange to put your stuff in storage while you are gone. I will make all the arrangements.”

“I need to look for a job!”

“What you need is time away!” He leaned forward, his expression worried. “You are disappearing before my very eyes, and I cannot very well sit back and allow that to happen. You are going to Italy and that is final.”

“You are not the boss of me.”

He smiled at that childish comment and resumed eating. “Go to Italy, you have always wanted to go. Have an affair with a stranger and do some sightseeing and shopping. I guarantee you will come back a whole new person.”

“I have to think…”

“No. No thinking. You’re going.”

*****

Giorgio Armani Russo straightened his spine as the double doors were pushed open and the daunting figure stepped inside the sumptuous office. Alfredo Russo was intimidating to say the least with his military bearing.

Giorgio had not dared ignore the summons to come to his office, even though he had been in the middle of having drinks with friends. One does not ignore a summons from Alfredo, it was just not done. But he was careful to keep his expression neutral as he waited for the man to take his seat behind the massive baronial desk.

“Good of you to drop by,” the sarcasm was evident in the deep, almost unaccented voice. Like his father, Giorgio had been educated at Oxford and Cambridge and had only a trace of the Italian accent.

“I live to please.” He had a feeling that his droll tone was only adding fuel to the fire but could not help it. He had an idea what the meeting was about and was impatient to get it out of the way.

“How bad was the crash?”

“The hood of the Ferrari was only dented. I was driving on a racing course…”

“That’s the third vehicle in less than three months.” Alfredo pinned him with merciless dark eyes, a small frown etching his brow. His son was spoilt, there was no doubt about that. And he was afraid he was the one to blame.

After his beloved Maria had passed away when the boy was in high school, he had been adrift and devasted to lose the only woman he had ever loved. His wife had been the one to lead the household with her gentle but firm hands, while he was handling a company that took up most of his time.

When she succumbed to her illness, he more or less left Giorgio to his own devices, lavishing him with expensive gifts and allowing him free rein to do whatever he wanted. The boy had inherited his mother’s stunning beauty and was well aware of the impact his incredibly good looks had on the opposite sex.

He was frequently showcased in various magazines and his numerous affairs were often highlighted in the gossip columns.

Giorgio shifted on the padded seat restlessly. He knew this was coming. The crash had happened because he had taken the turn too quickly. But he was in no danger of hurting himself or anyone else. Speed was his obsession, and he did everything to excess, something he was certainly not going to apologize for.

“I am living life to the fullest.” He could not help the resentment in his voice. His papa insisted on monitoring his every move and it was vastly upsetting. “You have chosen my bride for me and in a few months, I will be tethered by matrimony. Until then, I am going to enjoy myself.”

“Marrying Sofia will be such a hardship? She is a beautiful and gracious young lady who will make a wonderful wife and mother.”

“And that’s what this is all about, is it not?” Giorgio’s dark eyes glowered. “The need for me to procreate, to sire heirs to carry on this vast empire.” One graceful hand made a dismissive sweep around the room. The office was decorated in deep ochre, a massive fireplace taking up an entire section of the room.

Windows sparkled with light shining from the sun and the stunning panorama of the jewel-like city was laid out before them. Gold ankle deep carpet complemented the pale-yellow furnishings, and expensive paintings dotted the silken walls.

Alfredo was a king in his own realm, reigning over the diversified company with a rod of iron. He was almost sixty but looked ten years younger because of the rigid discipline he placed on his body.

He exercised at the club where his family had been members for more than a century. His dark hair was still thick, the strands threaded through with gray, which only gave him a distinctive look.

He wasn’t as handsome as his son but was very attractive and had his share of female companions, none serious enough to make him want to give up his current status. No one could replace his beloved wife, and he had resigned himself to that fact.

But he wanted his son settled and giving him grandchildren, that much he was intent on achieving.

“It does not matter that I am not in the least bit interested in getting married. Or that I would prefer to choose my own bride?” The subject was a sore one to him and over the past few months, he had tried his best to forget it. Which was not easy, considering that the woman his father had chosen for him was the daughter of a very good friend.

They were often at the same functions. Sofia Columbo was a beautiful young woman, demure and agreeable, too agreeable for his taste and way too eager to please. Giorgio preferred his women with more than a little fire.

“You are thirty years old, and it is time you assumed your rightful place, here at the company. I have afforded you some leeway, more than enough and I am taking a stand now.”

He unfolded the newspaper that had been placed on his desk by his very efficient assistant and turned it around so that his son could see the photo and the caption. “This has to stop!”

Giorgio’s dark eyes landed on the glossy photo of him with his arm around a stunning blonde. The picture had been taken at a party on a friend’s yacht and both he and the blonde had been practically naked.

“We had no idea there were paparazzi’s present.” He had the grace to look chastened and apologetic.

“This woman was recently going through a bitter divorce. Were you the cause of it?”

He looked affronted. “You know me better than that papa. I do not mess around with married women. We are Catholics after all.”

Alfredo wanted to laugh at how ludicrous that sounded.

“When was the last time you stepped foot inside a chapel?”

Broad shoulders lifted in a negligent shrug. “The teachings of the Bible have been instilled in me since I was a child.” He glanced at the heavy gold watch on his left wrist. “Is that all?”

“Am I keeping you from something important? A business meeting perhaps?”

“More like a rousing game of football. I have seen to the insurance details of the car and was assured that the damage was minimal.” He rose gracefully, impatient to end the stifling and irritating conversation. He hated restrictions and as heir to the Russo fortune, he was constantly made aware of his status in life.

It had been that way since he was a child. His father insisted on having people follow him around and even when he was at home, he had numerous servants underfoot. Sometimes, he just simply wants to be an ordinary person, free to do whatever he pleases.

“I would like you home for supper.”

“If I can…”

“That was not a request. You have been absent from the dinner table for the past few days, and I would like to sit down and sup with my son.”

Twin dark eyes clashed and to his infuriating dismay, Giorgio was the first to look away.

“Is there anything else?” His deep voice was rife with sarcasm. “Would you like to pick out what I should wear to the dinner table?”

“You never had a problem with fashion,” his father said mildly, “we eat at ten sharp.”

Without a word, Giorgio turned and left.

Picking up the magazine, Alfedo studied the picture, his jaw tight. He was aware that through no fault of his own, Giorgio attracted attention, wherever he went. What he had a problem with was the fact that his son capitalized on the attention he received.

His face was plastered on billboards, because he was the face of their wildly successful and exclusive department stores. But he was also featured in magazines and on the internet because of his numerous affairs. The press loved him and delighted themselves by following him around everywhere he went.

Folding the magazine, he tossed it on the opposite side of the desk, a resigned frown on his brow. He could not wait for the young man to settle down and get married. Perhaps then, he would stop this nonsense and take his rightful place in a company that was going to be his one day.

*****

The apartment was nothing to write home about. The rent was reasonable and had suited her at the time. She had made it a home and had been content with calling it one. She did not crave luxury the way her brother did.

But he could afford it. He was a very successful lawyer, her job as editor at the publishing house had not yielded her a fortune, but the compensation package had been more than adequate.

She was not a party girl, never had been. Her brother was always the social animal, while she preferred to settle on the sofa with a riveting book and a glass of wine. The highlight of her life had always been her dad.

He was fun to talk to and had always been there to impart sound advice. He had been her sounding board and had instilled in her a confidence that allowed her to go through life with her head held high.

Now he was gone, and she was lost. She would no longer hear his rich and hearty laughter or hear him saying how proud he was of her.

Cancer had eaten away his vitality and zest for life and, at the end, she had found it very difficult to identify that gaunt and haggard frame to his once robust and jovial personality. Even though he had been racked by pain and barely able to smile, he had tried to be happy for her sake.

His suffering had been a source of agonizing distress to her and in the end, she was happy he was in a better place. But she missed him so much, it was like a palpable emptiness inside her very soul.

Losing Jeremy had not made much of an impact on her life and she had told her brother the truth where that was concerned. He had been a lackluster and indifferent lover, and they had been hanging onto the relationship because of the familiarity of being with each other.

Slipping out of her jacket, she hung it on the coat tree just inside the doorway and made her way to the kitchen. She had promised her brother she would think about the trip and on the way home, she had done that. It would be good to get away.

Standing in the middle of the postage stamp room, she surveyed the peeling and dingy wallpaper and the plants dying on the windowsill. She had always been so diligent in tending to her plants, but over the past month, nothing had spiked her interest.

The suggestion Julian had made about going to live with him was out of the question. She loved her brother of course, they were very close, but she needed her own space. She was a very private person and even though the apartment was nothing to write home about, it afforded her privacy.

Walking over to sit on one of the barstools, she folded her hands on the ceramic counter and felt the tears slipping down her cheeks.

Her beloved dad was gone, and she could not stand the idea of living in a world where he was no longer present.

She had no idea what she was going to do next, but maybe taking a trip to Italy would give her some perspective. Swiping at the tears, she jumped up and put the kettle on.

*****

“Darling, you are very quiet.”

Giorgio had to stir himself to pay attention to the woman next to him. He had decided against going to watch the game and made a phone call. It had taken just that to be invited over.

But the lovemaking had lacked the usual spontaneity and after a few minutes, he had automatically brought her to a climax, with no real interest in achieving one. And he was certainly not in the mood for conversation.

“I apologize,” he told her with a faint smile, “I have a lot on my mind.” The conversation with his father had put him in a very bad mood and had him thinking.

“Why don’t I try and change that?” She asked sultrily, fingers tangling with his dense dark chest hairs. Her name was Elena, and they had been on again, off again lovers.

He had called her because she was one of the few women who never expect anything he was not willing to give. Which made their coupling perfect. Giorgio was European and sex to him was as natural as breathing. He was never with two women at the same time, well, not anymore.

While he was in college and there was an occasion at Cambridge when he had indulged in menage a’ trois, but he was older now and preferred to lavish his attention on one woman at a time.

He was an excellent lover, it was not a boast, he had been having sex since he was thirteen and perfected the skill. He was also very attentive and made the woman he was with feel as if she was the only one. He made sure to let them know beforehand that they were just having fun with no strings attached.

He was aware that he was Italian royalty and quite a catch, but his father had drummed it into his head about practicing safe sex. He had heeded the warning and was never without his cache of prophylactics.

He drew the line at having a child out of wedlock. His position in life had been etched in stone. He was Giorgio Armani Russo, heir to a vast fortune and he was never able to forget it.

“I am afraid it is not possible.” Gently extricating himself from her clinging arms, he swung his long legs off the rumpled satin sheets, which smelled of her perfume and body fluids. He needed a shower, but that would have to wait until he was home.

He had been ordered to be home for supper and as much as he resented obeying that order, he was disinclined to upset his father any more than he already was.

“Darling, I was hoping you would stay the night.” Her pout was alluring, and no doubt practiced but did nothing for him.

“Another time perhaps.” He dragged on his dress pants and reached for his silk sweater. Striding over to the bed, he bent far enough to take her pouty lips in a searing kiss, evading her grasping arms, his charming smile in place. “I will let myself out.”