The Italian Billionaire's Lover

CHAPTER 11

Alina listened to the clock ticking away. She had come to bed a few hours ago, but she was lying on her back, still wide awake. Was Tomas with Gabriella right now? A part of Alina was hoping Tomas would call of their engagement. What chance had she of hoping Tomas could resist's the luscious Gabriella's charms? She had to concede, if she was a man, she would find it hard to resist a sexy woman like Gabriella Ancelotti. She could not get that dinner out of her mind or Tomas' indifference for that matter. How could he have remained so cold, distant and uncaring? Okay I know he does not love me, but damn it, he asked me to attend with him. The least he could have done is acknowledge my presence there.

She could not shake that burdening feeling in her heart. It restricted her breathing. Her heart felt heavy. What had happened in such a short space of time? Alina tried to think about a life without Tomas and it looked bleak. How could she still want to have anything to do with that cold insensitive fish?

Oh sure she only knew him for a very brief period, knew very little about him, but she could not deny he turned her life around. He stormed in like hurricane and caused a riot with her emotions, so much so, that nothing could ever be normal again if Tomas walked out of her life. She should hate him. She should despise him, but how could she, when his mere touch sent her senses orbiting and her flesh burning with insatiable desire for the arrogant bully.

    
     Alina tried using make up to hide the dark shadows under her eyes but it had not worked. The ever observant Rocco was demanding to know what was wrong. Alina tried brushing him off to no avail.

'I can read you like a storybook cara. Tell me what's wrong.'

If she was in a good mood she would laugh, but she was not. 'I am fine,' she lied.

'Has he called of the wedding?'

Not yet.

'Rocco, nothing's wrong. Get back to work,' Alina hissed.

Predictably he mumbled a litany of accusations in Italian, of how he was just the kitchen boy and she was the boss, so she could treat him like potato peels that's place was in the rubbish bin. Alina could empathise with Rocco, for that was exactly what Keres had tried to reduce her to, the kitchen worker. She heaved a breath heavily and continued with the chicken dish she was preparing. She could not talk to Rocco or anybody else about her predicament she would have to deal with this on her own. Everytime the phone rang, her heart pumped faster, expecting it to be Tomas, but it was not. It was either orders, reservations or delivery companies. Alina got into a baking frenzy, much to Rocco's annoyance. The deal was he did the starter, dessert and pastries. She was only supposed to focus on the main courses, but she took over Rocco's function today. She stayed away from her office and kept busy in the kitchen, baking up a storm.

At three o' clock in the afternoon, her feet were aching. She had not eaten lunch. She was dog tired from being on her feet from four that morning. Alina made herself a cup of tea and went to put her feet up in the office. When the phone rang, she assumed it was a reservation for dinner and answered it automatically.

'Hi cara, did you miss me?'

'No, I've been busy,' her heart was ticking wildly like a time bomb.

'I need thirty minutes of your time. Can I collect you now?'

You can dump me over the phone. I'd rather not be looking at you.

'Can you not ---do it over the phone?' I'll even settle for a text.

'No cara. I am picking you up in fifteen minutes,' the line went dead.

Alina was a bundle of nerves. Should she get out of her uniform? Does it matter what one is wearing when one is being dumped?
Why can't he just do it in my office here?
That way she could lock her office and sob her heart out.