Page 89 of Alessio

“Give her a second,” Alessio said when Corrado moved to follow Ginevra down the hall.

He shook off Alessio’s hand that came to land on his arm. “Don’t.”

“Corrado—”

“What the hell happened, Les? Don’t you care about what went wrong?”

Alessio shrugged, his face unreadable. “Sometimes, people need to work through shit.”

Right.

Well …

“That doesn’t work for me,” Corrado said.

“That’s half your problem. You don’t let shit go, man.”

“And we wouldn’t be here if I did.”

Alessio nodded. “All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Noted.”

Not that it made a fucking difference to him.

Corrado didn’t bother to take the time to remove his jacket or shoes before following Ginevra. He stood in the doorway of her bedroom and watched as she struggled to pull the zipper down on the back of her dress.

She didn’t ask for help, so he stayed back.

Finally, she got the dress down. Yanking the expensive fabric down her body, the dress fell to the floor in a heap, forgotten. Standing in black lace that hugged her curves in the best way, he had a view that showed all the parts of her that had his dick standing at attention in a breath. And yet, all he focused on was that anger written across her pretty features.

She let out a harsh noise, pulling the drop earrings from her ears, and shaking her head at the same time.

“Do you want help with the necklace?” he asked, staying put in the doorway.

“No.”

He straightened, her sharp tone taking him by surprise. Rarely did Ginevra get heated with her tone, even in her anger. She didn’t need fury to get her point across, not when she wanted to.

“What is wrong with—”

“I said to give me a minute, didn’t I?”

Corrado stayed put and shrugged as he tossed his hands in his pockets. “And yet, here I still am. Something clearly upset you back at The Clubhouse, and I want you to tell me what.”

“You don’t get to know everything because you want to, Corrado. That’s not how life works, okay? People have feelings—private feelings.”

“Right, but since, chances are, this has to do with me, or Les, or that chick who talked to you, I think you could at least tell me what happened.”

“Or you should leave it the fuck alone.”

Oh, cusses, now?

Yeah, she was pissed.

Leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb, Corrado settled himself on not moving unless she spoke up and told him what the hell was wrong now. “I’m not going anywhere unless you talk to—”

“God.”