The Pact

CHRISTIAN

I’m a walking, talking bundle of lust ever since I sat next to her on the plane.

She’s clueless about the effect she has on me. I didn’t mean to judge her so quickly when I saw her with Leo, but I was confused about what to make of it.

She’s in love with him, that’s clear as day. The sad part is, I think he knows it, and the jerk uses it to his advantage. Francesca knew a different Leo, not this corporate version.

“So, Francesca, what do you do?” John Walker asks from across the table.

“She’s an actress,” Leo answers for her, and my hand tightens around my fork.

Can’t he let her speak for herself?

“Did you study drama?” John asks again, directing his question to Francesca.

“Literature,” she answers softly. “I studied literature and journalism.”

“Really?” John Walker sits up a bit straighter. As far as I know, John Walker owns a bunch of successful European newspapers.

“Yes, sir,” Francesca replies politely.

“Have you written anything professionally?”

“Mostly reviews. I got connected with an online blog after college, and they reach out to me when they need something.”

“You’re basically the whore of the magazine industry.” Evelyn sneers, and I feel the urge to punch her. Francesca, however, remains completely unfazed.

“If only it paid as well,” she jokes, and the others around the table join her, much to Evelyn’s annoyance.

For the tenth time since I sat down, I place my hand on Francesca’s thigh, and for the tenth time, she brushes it off.

John captures her attention, and they start discussing various books and articles. I begin to realize just how intelligent Francesca is.

Not only is she stunning—blonde, with beautiful blue eyes and a killer body—but she’s also incredibly smart. You wouldn’t guess it at first glance, but give her a chance to speak and—wow!

Never has a woman grabbed my attention like Miss Francesca Barton.

Normally, I would have moved on to something, or someone else. The chase usually doesn’t interest me. I like my women easy, submissive, uncomplicated.

Francesca is none of those things. She’s strong, fiery, and determined. She’s not just a kitten. She’s a tiger.

“You grew up in Mississippi, Francesca?” John asks.

“Yes.”

“Neighbors since birth,” Leo says with a wink at Francesca, and I notice a faint blush color her cheeks. The jerk has her wrapped around his finger.

“Do your parents still live there?” Beth asks, and Francesca tenses.

“N-no,” she answers softly. She sighs as she places her napkin on the table. “Excuse me.”

Before anyone can object, Francesca is up from the table and out of the room.

“Did I say something wrong?” Beth asks, her innocent eyes wide with worry.

“No, baby,” Leo soothes his fiancée. “Cheer just doesn’t like talking about her parents.”

“For good reason,” Jennifer Chambers comments, shooting a sharp look at her son.

“Her mother, Jillian, passed away while Francesca was in high school. She took it hard. I remember the hell she put Brad through.

“Francesca has always been strong-willed, but those years between Jill getting sick and Francesca leaving for college were tough on Brad,” Thomas Chambers explains.

“And her father?” I find myself asking, curious to know more about the enigmatic Miss Barton.

“Brad died six years ago. Heart attack. Francesca hasn’t been back to Jackson since.”

My heart aches for Francesca. My parents were never really there for me. My mother passed away after she had me, and my father was always more interested in his business than in me.

Raised by my grandparents, I always knew that someday I would take over my father’s successful construction company in Italy.

He makes twice as much as I do in my role as CEO for Leo’s New York branch.

While I grew up without parents, per se, I at least had a privileged life. Francesca, it seems, has always been dealt a bad hand.

Just the look on her face when she returned my credit card yesterday.

I wasn’t sure what came over me when I gave it to Beth, but after the confrontation with Francesca when she arrived home, I was glad I did.

“Will she be okay? Should someone check on her?” Beth asks, concerned for the girl she met only days ago.

“Honestly, Beth,” Evelyn scoffs.

“I can—”

“I’ll go.” I stand, cutting Leo off, and Beth smiles at me.

“Thank you, Chris.”

I find Francesca upstairs in her room. I knock on the already open door, and she sighs.

“Sorry, QB.”

“It’s me, gattina.”

Francesca looks up with a gasp, her hands quickly moving to her face to wipe away the makeup smudged beneath her eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

“It seemed like you could use a friend.”

“Haven’t I made myself clear? I don’t know what you’re playing at, Christian, but the inappropriate touching, the flirting, the pet names, the gifts... I’m not interested.”

“I know. You’re in love with him.”

“Who?” She rolls her eyes.

“You know who, kitten.”

“I’m not in love with Leo,” Francesca scoffs. “Maybe I… maybe I was, but that was a long time ago. Leo isn’t my Leo anymore. He’s changed, he’s happy, and Beth is impossibly nice.”

“So, I have a chance, then?” I smirk, and although she rolls her eyes, there’s no missing the subtle blush that colors her cheeks and the way her breath catches as I step toward her.

“I’m sorry about your parents,” I say, gently tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

“T-thank you,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I escort you back to the table, Miss Barton?”

“What’s your problem, Mr. De Luca?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, kitten.”

***

“So, your family isn’t what I expected,” I tell Leo as he hands me a glass of scotch.

“And what exactly were you expecting from the Chambers family, Chris?”

“I didn’t know you came from such humble beginnings.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“You always complain about Evelyn being materialistic, but you’re not so different. Look at your lifestyle.”

“I’ve worked hard for my money. Are you saying I shouldn’t enjoy it?”

“Not at all. It’s just surprising, considering where you come from.”

We sit in silence for a bit, savoring the expensive scotch.

“How was Cheer when you checked on her earlier?”

“She’s fine. She’s stronger than you think,” I tell him.

Leo studies me for a moment before nodding.

“I know she is. Did you know she was head cheerleader in high school?” Leo asks, and I raise my eyebrows in surprise.

“She owned it. She’s always been stunning. Even when I felt like an awkward teenager, she was this beautiful woman.”

I study Leo as he talks about Francesca in a way I didn’t think he could.

“Why didn’t you two ever date?” I ask, and Leo actually laughs.

“Francesca? No way. I mean, she’s attractive, but I always wanted to leave Jackson, and I knew she wasn’t going anywhere. She wanted to be a writer since we were kids.

“I learned pretty quickly that kind of career doesn’t pay much. Don’t get me wrong, I think she’s great, but I needed a certain type of person by my side to make it as a CEO, and Cheer wasn’t it.”

“What about your pact?”

“What about it?” Leo scoffs. “I was never going to follow through with it.”

It takes all my self-control not to punch Leo in the face.

I’ve known Leo since college. I’ve always known he was a player before Beth, but to hear him talk about his supposed best friend like she’s a failure or a piece of meat…

“You’re an ass,” I mutter.

“Whatever, man. You can’t deny she’d be a good fuck.”

I clench my jaw as I squeeze my glass. The glass shatters in my hand, and for some reason, I don’t even feel the pain.

“What the fuck, man?”

“Piss off,” I mutter as I leave the room, holding my bleeding hand. I have a hundred thoughts running through my head as I make my way upstairs.

I’ve talked about women the same way Leo just did. Hell, I haven’t had a relationship since... I’ve used women my whole adult life, so why is it any different now?

I throw my door open, and it swings back, hitting the wall with a bang.

“Shit!”

My eyes widen as I find Francesca sitting on my bed.

“What are you doing in here?” I ask, forgetting about the pain in my hand.

“Is that how you always open a door? I think you damaged the wall.”

“Chambers can afford it.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Francesca rolls her eyes.

“I asked you a question,” I say quietly, and Francesca raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing in here, kitten?”

I can’t help but smirk as a light blush covers her cheeks at the nickname.

“I came to say thank you.”

“For what?”

“For talking me down earlier. For caring enough to find me.”

Francesca’s honesty takes me by surprise. Hasn’t anyone ever cared about her? I step toward her. I hear her breath hitch as I raise my hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’re bleeding!” Francesca gasps, and I look back at my glass-filled hand.

“It’s fine,” I say, not really believing it.

“No, it’s really not,” Francesca says, rolling her eyes as she pulls me into the adjoining bathroom.

“What are you doing, kitten?”

“I’m fixing your hand. There has to be a first aid kit in here somewhere. You should really get stitches, but I know you’re too stubborn for that, so I’ll make do with what I find.”

I smile as she turns and starts rummaging through the bathroom cabinets.

She gives me a great view of her body as she bends over, her toned ass in the air.

She’s fit but not skinny. She has curves in all the right places. My mind starts to wander.

Suddenly, I’m imagining my hands running over those curves, my mouth tasting every inch of her. My—

“Are you done staring at my ass?” Francesca asks with a smirk, and for the first time, there’s a playful vibe between us.

“Never,” I mutter under my breath.

“This will have to do,” Francesca says, holding up some antiseptic, gauze, and a bandage. “How did you do it anyway?”

“Picked up some broken glass.”

“Smart.” Francesca chuckles.

Francesca starts cleaning my cuts, her touch almost feather-like.

She uses tweezers to remove some of the glass that’s lodged in my hand, then cleans it with antiseptic before pressing the gauze into my palm.

“Sorry,” she whispers when she pushes a little too hard and I flinch.

“I read it,” I blurt out.

“What?” Her brow furrows in confusion as she wraps the bandage around my hand.

“I read the book you recommended.”

Her face breaks into a wide grin.

“Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone?” she asks for confirmation.

“Yeah, I finished it today.”

“The whole thing?”

“Yeah,” I answer, a bit unsure.

“You read the whole book in just a few hours?”

“Around five hours, more or less.”

“That’s gotta be some kind of record.”

“I liked it,” I admit with a nonchalant shrug.

Her smile, if possible, grows even wider.

“I’ve got the second one with me. Actually, I’ve got all of them.”

“You wouldn’t mind if I borrowed them?”

“Not at all,” Francesca says, her gaze dropping to the floor.

“Could you help me get my own set?”

“Uh, sure, I guess.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Francesca smiles at my bandaged hand before getting up.

I rise too, stepping closer to her. I catch her wrist with my good hand, stopping her in her tracks. I bring the back of her hand to my lips, letting them gently brush against her skin.

“Thank you, my beautiful kitten,” I whisper in gratitude, and she blushes, even though I’m not sure she understood. She gives a single nod before slipping out of my hold and heading for the door.

“Why do you love him?” I ask just as she’s about to disappear from view.

“Oh, god,” she groans. “Not this again.”

“Answer the question.”

Francesca sighs, leaning against the doorframe for support. She doesn’t turn to look at me, but I wish she would.

“He knows me better than anyone else.”