Rare and Precious Things

by Raine Miller

  “You know this how exactly?” I persisted.

  “Because I used to be just like—” He shifted in his seat and looked like he wished he could bite off his tongue. “Oh, forget it. I really don’t want to talk about Carrington’s social life on my honeymoon.”

  “Me either,” I said. And I really didn’t need to know any more, because I was confident that Ethan knew exactly what he was talking about, because he’d just let slip the reason.

  After all, he had been just like Dillon Carrington before he’d found me.

  CHAPTER 5

  “AS much as I’d love to stay swimming out here with you, we’d better go in and start getting ready for the party. I have to wash my hair.”

  I groaned my protest with plenty of displeasure, hoping it might work. “Not that fuckin’ thing, please.”

  “Ethan, come on, you know we have to go. I have to be there. Marco said we are his honored guests, and he’s planned around us being here, specifically. How rude would it be to just not show up?”

  I pulled her legs around my hips and trapped her against me as I tread the sparkling water of our little beach cove. Maybe denial would be more effective since she wasn’t buying my complaints. “I’m keeping you out here in this beautiful sea with me forever.” I nipped at the shell of her ear and flicked the lobe with my tongue, tasting the mix of her skin and the salt of the water.

  “Forever, huh?” she answered, allowing me access to her neck by tilting her head to the side.

  “That’s right.” I took her offer and sucked at her beautiful neck, the mark I’d made on our wedding night now just a faint blush. With her hands gripping my shoulders and her long legs wrapped around my hips, I had her exactly where I wanted her. Now, if I could just get her mind off the motherfucking cocktail party she was demanding to attend, my immediate future would be sorted out perfectly. Floating in the sea and soaking up the sunshine with my sweet girl in my arms. “Yep. Forever here with you, not some sodding party crawling with idiots.”

  She sighed heavily, most likely thoroughly fed up with me, but she brought her forehead to rest against mine, and rocked from side to side. “What am I going to do with you, Blackstone?”

  “I have some good ideas if you’re really stumped.” I squeezed both luscious halves of her arse and pulled her against my cock.

  “So, sex in exchange for taking me to the party?” She thrust up and down my length with a few grinds of her hips under the water, giving me an instant hard-on, and heading for the shore.

  I’d done this grab and carry from the beach to the house a few times since we’d come here. It always ended the same way. Volcanic sex. Extraordinary fucking. The ultimate prize in intimacy with the person I loved, bringing me to a place of nirvana with her. A place I’d only ever found with Brynne.

  With her pillowed at my neck and nuzzling as I took us inside our villa, I was pretty confident I wouldn’t have to worry about that stupid party at all in another few minutes.

  “THAT is what you’re wearing to this thing?”

  My question earned me a hearty scowl, and a stiff back turned on me with a toss of her silky hair.

  So much for the nice after-swim shag of two hours ago. Might as well have been two years ago, because right then we were getting ready to go to Carveletti’s motherfucking cocktail party in town.

  “Why, Ethan, are you saying that I don’t look nice in this dress?” her tone chilly, as she applied eye makeup at the bathroom mirror.

  “You look more than nice, and that’s the part that worries me.” Brynne was off-the-charts sexy all of the time, but this little dress she had on was going to kill me tonight. Emphasis on the little. It was a silky tunic-like creation in yellow and blue, with a print of the Parthenon on it. That part was fine. It was the micro length of the thing, showcasing her long, tanned legs in a manner that would serve to give any man who saw her in it one thought—and only one thought. How I’d love to get those sexy legs wrapped around my cock.

  “You worry too much. It’s just a babydoll summer dress. We’re on holiday at the beach for Christ’s sake. I am dressed for the occasion.”

  A babydoll dress? Fucking hellfire and damnation. I was confident tonight would age me permanently. For a few reasons. One was just the casualty of having a beautiful wife who grabbed attention everywhere we went in public, no matter how subdued she was in her personality. Another was the destination, and crowd we’d be mixing with tonight. I couldn’t pretend to be happy about it, but knew I was outvoted and undermined when it came to Brynne’s modeling.

  I imagined what I could say to the people I’d meet at this blasted party, as I sat on the bed and shoved my feet into my shoes harshly. Hello, Ethan Blackstone, nice to meet you. My wife is one of Carveletti’s models. Isn’t she lovely without her clothes on? Smashing tits, I know. Oh, trust me, I know. *wink* Which picture of her do you prefer? The one of her tits or this one where you can really see the curve of her sexy arse? I dragged a hand over my beard in anxious frustration.

  Simply absorbing the content of my imagined social greeting was a little more than I could handle, so I tried to distract myself by thinking of this afternoon’s swim with her instead. Didn’t help much…

  Carvaletti, one of her photographer friends, had invited us to his home, which just happened to be in Porto Santo Stefano. Marvelous fucking luck. Brynne was determined to drag us there, so I guess I’d be cockblocking all goddamn night instead of enjoying the beach under the stars with my girl.

  I was pulled from my inner rant by her cool hand at my cheek and a worried expression on her lovely face. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could just kiss her senseless into forgetting about going to this thing?

  “Please don’t let this party ruin our night. It’s just a mixer of industry people who happen to be gathering while we’re here.” The pleading look she gave me tugged at me, making me feel guilty for not being more supportive of her work.

  “I’m sorry, baby. I’m trying to support you here, but am afraid I suck at it. I go mad when other men hit on you. I want to kill first and ask questions later when I see how they look at you.” I shook my head at her “babydoll” dress. “And with you wearing that, I know I am well and truly fucked for an evening of torture.”

  “Many of my photographers are gay, Ethan.” I could feel her inner thoughts calling me a possessive arsehole, even though I knew she wasn’t to that point yet. Not yet…but I might push her there if I kept on.

  “Carveletti’s not one of them though, is he?”

  She sighed heavily and pressed her lips to my hair. I reached for her and drew her onto my lap, burying my face at her neck.

  “We don’t have to stay very long, Ethan. Just long enough to be polite and greet everyone.”

  “Promise?” I knew I was acting a bloody dickhead but at least I was being honest with how I felt. “I don’t share you very well at all, and I won’t apologize for that part,” I murmured at her ear.

  “I promise, sweet husband.” She offered her lips to me. “Just give me a code word when you’re done and we can leave.”

  “Now see? You go and say something like that to me and I feel like an insensitive brute.” I tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful, and I don’t mean just on the outside.” I brought my finger to her heart. “Here is beautiful.”

  Her expression softened. “I love you so much, Ethan, even when you’re being an insensitive brute.” She drew me to her lips with a hand under my chin.

  “I know…and I count my blessings every day that you do.”

  “So what’s your code word so I know?”

  I thought for a moment and it came to me in a brilliant flash. “Simba.”

  She laughed and shook her head at me slowly. “Simba it is, then.”

  “BELLA, you look magnificent, the glow in your cheeks, everything, is utter perfection.” Marco, kissed me on both cheeks as was custom, then held me at arm’s length for a thorough perusal. “Lovely dress. I ca
n see that marriage and motherhood are both agreeing with you, darling.”

  I felt Ethan’s hand at my back soften and relax at Marco’s friendly, but appropriate greeting. Maybe he’d get over his paranoia that Marco was trying to bag me every time he photographed me. Ethan just didn’t understand that Marco wasn’t like that at all. He was a professional photographer doing a job with me, and nothing more. Well, nothing more than a working, platonic friendship. He’d always been kind to me, and I liked working with Marco Carvaletti very much. I hoped Ethan could see it here tonight as we all interacted.

  “It is, Marco, and I don’t think I could be any happier.” I leaned into Ethan, nudging him to speak up.

  “Mr. Carvaletti, thank you for the invitation. We’ve been looking forward to this all day.” Ethan lied smoothly, offering his hand, playing the social gentleman to perfection, which he was well skilled at. I guess he did it out of love for me. I knew he didn’t want to be here any more than he wanted me modeling. I mouthed a thank you only visible to him. He kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear, “Don’t forget about Simba, baby.” Then he wandered off to get drinks for us.

  Marco took me on a tour of his elegantly restored seventeenth-century villa as I marveled at all of the art. He had a whole room set up as a gallery of his photographs. There were a couple of me in there. One where I sat in a formal chair with one knee up, strategically placed, my expression far away and pensive. The other pose was a side view recreation of a vintage Ziegfeld Follies girl with a feather boa and some satin pumps. It was one of the first portraits I posed for and I really thought it was nicely choreographed.

  “It is a beautiful piece, bella. I knew when we did that series you had the gift.” Marco stood behind me admiring the image he had created with me as the subject.

  “I was so nervous posing, but you made me laugh when you told me to imagine Iggy Pop in a dress.” I shrugged. “That broke the ice and I was fine after that.”

  “That one works for me every time, bella.”

  “Well, Iggy Pop in a dress is funny, so good job, Marco.” We laughed together and made our way back to the main gathering.

  Where was Ethan with my drink? I scanned the room for sight of him, but didn’t see his tall form standing out among the crowd anywhere. And I needed water.

  “He is talking to Carolina and Rogelio, my friends,” Marco said, correctly reading my quest to find Ethan. “I believe they have discovered they are acquainted already.”

  Really? Ethan knew people at this party? I suppose it wasn’t as bad as he’d predicted it would be after all. Couldn’t wait to bust him about his whining to come here.

  “Oh, well that’s great. I look forward to meeting them. But first, I need to get some water. I’m really thirsty after spending a long time swimming in the sea today. Must be all the salt.”

  “Come with me, bella, I will take care of you.”

  ONE hour later and I was so ready to blow this taco stand. Unfortunately, I was the only one who felt that way. Ethan and his old friend, Carolina, sat next to each other on a sofa laughing and chatting about the Italian elections and everything in between; from the best ski slopes in the Italian Alps to Ferragamo shoes. Looked like they were having a great time together. I, on the other hand, was stuck fending off the lewdly inappropriate glances coming at me from Rogelio, who apparently wasn’t giving up on trying to get a good look at what was under my dress. And he wasn’t with Carolina as I originally assumed, either. Rogelio was with another woman who gave her name as Paola—an Italian model I had seen in photos but never met before tonight. She eyeballed me too, almost as much as Rogelio was doing, but for different reasons. Rogelio was just a skeevy creep, but Paola saw me as a threat. She didn’t have anything to worry about from me though; I sure wasn’t interested in what she was doing—practically sprawled on Rogelio, letting him feel her up. Were they going to start screwing in front of everyone in a minute for an encore? This lecherous creep and exhibitionist slut are who I get to talk to? Not fair.

  Ethan was oblivious.

  I shifted in the seat and fidgeted with the hem of my dress, wishing it was a little longer to cover more of my legs. I wanted to go home and crawl into bed, but Ethan didn’t take my subtle hints when I rubbed his leg or squeezed his hand. He just kept flapping away as if he could keep it up for hours. What in the hell had gotten into him? He was not usually chatty, but for all intents and purposes he sure was tonight—at this party he begged me not to drag him to.

  It wasn’t lost on me Carolina was a very beautiful woman, either. Elegant, and lean, in that Euro way that intimidated the hell out of me and my pregnant curves, which would only grow more pregnant, and more curvy in the coming months.

  I patted Ethan on the leg.

  He turned to me and smiled, covering my hand with his.

  And returned right back to his conversation with Carolina, dismissing me with an affectionate brush of his thumb over my hand.

  A server brought a tray of gelato through and I couldn’t resist taking one, even though everyone else declined it.

  The rich frozen chocolate cream tasted like heaven. At least I could enjoy something nice here, since the rest of it sucked.

  Paola clucked at me. “So many calories in the gelato. I never indulge.”

  Well, you sure do indulge in being a massive bitch, Paola. “Really? I do. In fact, my doctor in London told me to start packing it in. As many calories as I can stand. It’ll be healthier for my baby if I gain some weight.” I smiled warmly and shoved another spoonful of gelato in my mouth. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, you stupid cow!

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “You are pregnant?”

  I rubbed over my bump, which due to the shape of my dress, was pretty much invisible. “Yep. And married.” I held up my left hand and showed my ring. “I’m so lucky; sometimes I think I must have won the lottery of life.” I leaned into Ethan’s arm with an affectionate caress of my cheek.

  I felt more than a little satisfaction when she rolled her eyes at me and huffed off to get a drink. Rogelio just snickered in his quietly leering way and adjusted his erection, now that it was out there for me to see. Ugh. Get me the hell out of here.

  Ethan was so unaware of what was going on, the look on his face was blank when I interrupted him and said, “Simba just called and said it’s an emergency.”

  “What?” he questioned with a blink.

  I hardened my expression and tried again. “Simba needs us to come home.”

  “He does?”

  “He said now, Ethan.”

  ETHAN drove us home as I pouted in my seat. “You’re not feeling well, are you?” he asked after several minutes of quiet.

  “Whatever gave you that idea?” I looked out the window at the pretty lights set out in jars in front of the houses. It was a local custom that we’d discovered on our trip here. Wishing jars they were called. You put your wishes inside on tiny slips of paper that burned away from the candle inside the jar. As the words were consumed by fire, your wish was released into the spirit world to maybe be granted. I wish I never went to that party.

  “Well, you didn’t seem to be in a very social mood back there.”

  “Well, you sure were.” I folded my arms and looked over at him.

  “What? I was just having a conversation with an old friend. Thank God there was somebody I could talk to, or I would have gone mad. Let’s remember that I didn’t want to go to the fucking thing in the first place, Brynne. It just turned out to be more pleasant than I imagined it would be.”

  “How do you know Carolina?” I hated that I felt insecure asking him about her. I didn’t want to know if they had ever been more than “friends,” but had to be pragmatic that it was a strong possibility.

  “We met when I was working an important job for the Italian PM years back. She’s a cultural consultant for the government,” he said a little too quickly, as if he’d already prepared what to say when I asked.

  I sensed s
ome hedging on his part. The way he was acting reminded me of that night at the Mallerton Gala when the strawberry-blonde “he went out with just the one time” was vying for his attention.

  My heart did a little drop and I felt insane jealousy at the thought of Ethan and Carolina being together at some point in the past. He’d fucked her. I knew it.

  “Oh…” I couldn’t think of a better response. I just wanted to go to bed and put the unpleasant thoughts out of my mind.

  I didn’t wait for Ethan to come around and open my door when we arrived back to the villa. I just got out and headed toward the steps.

  I didn’t make it very far before strong arms wrapped around me from behind, pressing me back into the hard planes of his body. “Where do you think you’re going?” He nuzzled at my neck and rubbed thumbs over my collarbones seductively. My body responded immediately, my nipples hardening into peaks that gave me the now familiar sting of pain when it happened.

  “To bed, Ethan.” I knew that he knew I was pouting. I didn’t care. I couldn’t help how I felt—jealous, and insecure, and more than a little hurt.

  “Not yet, my beauty.” He kissed behind my ear, the rough sound of desire evident in his tone. “I went to your party and played nice, and now I get my date with you on the beach that I wished to have in the first place.”

  My stiffness melted at his words, and I spun around to face him, burying my face into his chest, breathing in his scent of spice and cologne that had captured me from day one. “It was an awful party,” I muttered, “I hated it.”

  He stroked over my hair and kissed the top of my head. “I can see that, but I can make it better now,” he promised. “Forget about that pretentious party and come with me.”

  “So, you didn’t want to stay there and talk to Carolina longer? You were obviously old friends catching up.” My spiteful words just slipped out before I could stop them.

  He gave me the blank look again and tilted his head. “Baby, what does that mean?”