Venice Nights by Ava Claire

mouth.
    It was not soon enough.
    Jacob gave me a look so cold that I shivered.
    “So you think that we are a mistake?”
    I shook my head fiercely, but my voice came out as a whisper. “No.”
    He stormed to the exit as tears streamed down my face.

Chapter Twelve
    I took one step outside and stopped, not even bothering to hush my sigh of frustration.
    Isabella, the slave driver, and hater of all things Leila Montgomery-related, was sprawled on one of the sun chairs.
    The universe has been working against you lately—not sure why you thought it would give you a break now.
    Yesterday, Jacob’s private tour turned into a nightmare. I found out that he had a sister that died as a baby. His estate manager, who could not stand me? She was the baby’s mother.
    After Jacob told me the secret that he guarded closely, one that explained why he gave the woman control over his estate, we got into an argument. He had pushed me to talk about how I really felt about the world knowing we we were a couple.
    It should have been cathartic to finally get it out; be honest with him and myself. But it came out wrong and instead of making him understand just how afraid I was, I pretty much said our relationship was a mistake. I hurt him—and we had not spoken since.
    It had only been twenty-four hours, but it felt like days. Jacob had slept in one of the guest bedrooms and hustled out of the house before I woke up.
    Now, I was stuck at his villa with the last person I wanted to be alone with.
    Isabella shifted on the lounger. She wore a fringe coverup, even though her body was lean and impeccably toned. It took me by surprise because she struck me as someone that loved to show off her body. I pictured her a decade younger, strutting around like she was gracing everyone with her presence. Drawing every male gaze—regardless of whether or not they were taken.
    I knew I was not being exactly fair. Carlton Whitmore made the decision to sleep with her even though he was married. And how could I condemn her and let Allegra off the hook?
    Easy , I thought, my skin prickling as Isabella glared at me over the top of her shades. Allegra didn’t hate you from the moment she met you .
    I turned on my heels, deciding I would get my vitamin D some other time.
    “No need to slink away,” Isabella called after me. “There are no paparazzi.”
    I stopped halfway inside the house, slowly turning back to her. She was telling me to stay, and had even scoped out the place for lingering photographers to ease my mind? I studied her quizzically. Maybe she had gotten too much sun.
    She let out a moan of complete relaxation as she settled back in her chair. “We can share the patio—especially considering you’re the reason I have the day off in the first place.”
    I stopped a few feet from her. “What are you talking about?”
    “Jacob was in and out this morning with a look that I’m quite familiar with,” she explained, her voice a purr. “It’s the same look he gets when his guest gets too clingy.” She picked up her bottle of water and took a sip. “That or he’s just plain bored.”
    And there was the catch. She wasn’t being nice—she just wanted me to come closer so she could see the hurt on my face when she reminded me that I was just a visitor. Not the first to come to this villa, and probably not the last.
    Sleeping alone after getting used to him beside me made it a bitch trying to get to sleep and even then, it was far from a restful affair. I was too exhausted for the back and forth, so I just surrendered.
    “Are you happy now? I screwed things up.” Tears rushed my eyes as she flipped through a magazine, not even acknowledging me. “I have no idea why you hate me so much, but I doubt you’ll have to put up with me much longer.”
    She paused, glancing up at me before she returned her attention to the magazine, thumbing to the next page. “I don’t hate you.”
    I frowned. “You don’t? Could have fooled me. I’m pretty sure