She was going to love the villa.
He hadn’t been there in a long time. He’d been too busy, making deals and making money. A housekeeper and grounds keeper came by every couple of weeks to keep things organized.
And he’d never taken a woman there.
That was another good thing. A very good thing. Mustique would be about fresh starts. And honesty.
It would also be about being in a place where he could take Isabella out to some small, intimate café for dinner. Hold her in his arms as they moved to slow music on a tiny dance floor. Behave like real people. And any time, in the cool of the house or the heat of the sun, they could go into each other’s arms and make love.
And then …
A muscle flickered in Rio’s jaw.
Then, when the time was right, he’d admit everything.
That he had not been—not been completely forthright with her but then, this had begun as a clever game.
How could he possibly have known it would turn into something else?
Isabella, his Isabella, would understand. He was certain of it. She wasn’t a prima donna. Okay, she might be a little miffed at first but once she got over the shock, she’d laugh along with him at how he’d dug the hole he’d made for himself deeper and deeper.
She would, wouldn’t she?
Wouldn’t she?
“What a long face!”
Rio jumped. Isabella was standing beside him, smiling.
“A long face, and before you’ve tasted my cooking!”
She had two plates in her hands. Rio shot to his feet and took them from her. He smiled, leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose.
“Everything looks perfect,” he said.
Perfect eggs, perfect bacon, perfect toast …
Perfect woman, he thought, and his heart did something it had never done before.
It soared.
They were almost at the airport when he told her what his “surprise” was.
Isabella looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“We’re flying to where?”
“Mustique. It’s an island—”
“—in the Caribbean. I get that. But—but I can’t just—just do something so—so outrageous on the spur of the moment!”
“That’s what doing things on the spur of the moment is all about,” Rio said, steering around a pickup truck loaded with crates of lettuce. “If it’s not outrageous, what’s the point?”
She stared at him. There was truth in that, if you were into doing outrageous things, but—
“But?” he said, and flashed her a smile. “I can hear the but from here, sweetheart.”
“But,” she said, “I can’t.”
“Because?”
“Well, because—because I have commitments.”
“What commitments?”
What, indeed? Or maybe the question was, what commitment could possibly supercede the sheer joy of flying to an island in the sun with her lover? Her gorgeous, sexy, amazing lover.
“Well—well, I’m supposed to have lunch with Anna.”
Rio reached into the pocket of his blue chambray shirt, took out his cell phone and handed it to her.
“Call her. Tell her you can’t make it.”
“I’m supposed to return her—” Isabella sucked in her breath. “Oh, boy. I’m supposed to return her car.”
“Ah. The car. Right. I almost forgot that. Where’d you have the accident? Can you give me some kind of location?”
“No, not really. I just … Wait. There was a field of corn on my right.”
Based on what he knew of the area, that narrowed things down to something like a zillion square miles.
“How about some visual clue? A house. A store. A sign.”
“A sign,” she said eagerly. “I passed it maybe five minutes before the car drove off the road.”
“Uh-huh,” Rio said, trying not to laugh. “Can you remember what it said?”
She frowned. “A man’s name. James. Jack. Jeffrey.” She snapped her fingers. “Jonas,” she said happily. “Jonas’s Organic Vegetables. ”
“Excellent. Call Anna, then give me the phone. I’ll call—”
He’d almost said he’d call his caretaker. “I’ll call a service station and arrange to have the car towed.”
“But Anna—”
Rio checked his mirrors and pulled his truck onto the shoulder of the road. He undid his seat belt, reached over, cupped Isabella’s face with his hands and gave her a long, deep kiss.
“I want us to be alone,” he said gruffly. “In a place that’s entirely mine.” He stroked a curl from her temple. “If that’s what you want, call your sister. If it isn’t—” He took a deep breath. “If it isn’t, I’ll drive you back to the city, right now.”
Isabella could feel her pulse racing.
This was crazy.
All of it.
And she didn’t do crazy things.
She was not the driven-to-succeed type like Anna. She was not a walk-the-tightrope-over-the-chasm daredevil like her brothers. She was—she was Izzy, who liked to plant things and watch them grow. She was steady and nurturing.
Except, she wasn’t only that Izzy anymore.
She was also Isabella, a woman sexually and emotionally awakened. A woman who had found a man who made her heartbeat rise into the stratosphere. Life had handed her a gift. It was something that probably would never come her way again.
“Isabella?” Matteo, her wonderful lover, looked deep into her eyes. “Am I taking you to the city, or to Mustique?”
Isabella took a steadying breath and punched Anna’s number into the cell phone.
One ring. Two. Four and then, at last, Anna’s voice, husky with sleep.
“Hello?”
“Anna. It’s me. Izzy.”
“Izzy? What time is it?” Anna’s voice sharpened. Isabella could picture her getting a look at the clock, then sitting upright in bed. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just—I just called to tell you I can’t meet you for lunch.”
“Why not?” A pause, and then Anna’s voice hardened. “Isabella. Something’s wrong. I can tell.”
“Nothing’s wrong. Why should anything be wrong? I told you, I can’t—”
There was mumbling in the background. Isabella rolled her eyes. Wonderful. Anna’s husband, Draco, was awake now, too.
“No,” Anna said, “it’s just Izzy.”
It’s just Izzy. Isabella reached across the truck’s console and felt Matteo’s warm, strong hand clasp hers.
“Also,” she said, “I wrecked your car.”
“Ohmygod! Izzy! You’re not all right! You’re in the hospital. Where? I can be there in—”
“Anna,” Isabella said, “will you listen to me? The car’s a mess. I’m fine.”
“Not fine,” Matteo said softly, lifting her hand to his lips. “You’re perfect.”
“Izzy? Who is that? You’re with someone. A man? Izzy? Are you with a—”
“I am,” Isabella said, her breath catching as Matteo sucked her finger into the heat of his mouth. “I am with a man. I’ve been with him since yesterday. And I’m going to spend the weekend—”
“The week,” Matteo murmured. To hell with returning to the city by Wednesday.
“And I’m going to spend the week with him.”
Silence. Then she could hear Anna drag in a deep breath.
“Iz. Remember when I phoned you from Rome that time? And I asked you if you remember Psych 101, that stuff about fantasizing sex with a stranger?”
Isabella looked at her lover. She held up a finger, opened the door and stepped onto the grass.
“I do, indeed,” she said calmly.
“Remember the rest of what you said?” Anna’s voice rose. “About fantasizing sex with a stranger? A dark and dangerous stranger? You warned me against it. You warned me!”
“And you really listened,” Isabella said with saccharine sweetness.
“Isabel
la. Damnit, when did you meet this man? Where? What do you know about him? For God’s sake, Iz—”
“When did you meet Draco? What did you know about him? As I recall, you fell into bed with him, what, a couple of hours after you set eyes on each other.”
“I am not going to discuss that with you,” Anna said coldly. “Besides, that was different.”
Isabella laughed. “Really?”
“Of course! I knew what I was doing. I had some experience dealing with men.” Anna’s tone softened. “This could be an awful mistake, Iz. Do you realize that?”
Isabella hesitated. She looked into the truck, at Matteo. His eyebrows rose. Did she need him with her? he was asking.
Yes, she thought, oh, yes.
“Izzy? Did you hear what I said? This could be a terrible, terrible mistake!”
Isabella shot her lover a reassuring smile. Then she turned away from him again.
“It could be,” she said quietly. “I know that. But I’m happy, Anna. I’ve never been so happy before.”
“Oh, Izzy! Honey, I want you to be happy, but—”
“Isabella?”
Matteo had gotten out of the truck, He came to Isabella and held out his hand. Isabella’s heart lifted. She smiled and put her hand in his.
“Anna. I have to go. We’re flying to—to—” She looked at Matteo, who leaned down and kissed her.
“Mustique,” he said softly, and kissed her again.
“Mustique,” Isabella said.
“Mustique?” Anna shrieked. “That’s halfway around the world!”
“It’s in the Caribbean.”
“Jeez, Izzy, I know that! I only meant—” A long breath; Draco’s low voice saying something. “Yes. Right. Iz? At least tell me who this man is. What’s his name? How did you meet him? What does he do?”
“His name is Matteo Rossi. I met him at Rio D’Aquila’s estate in Southampton. Matteo is the caretaker.”
“And a pilot,” Matteo said, with a smile.
“And a pilot,” Isabella added, her eyes widening.
“The caretaker?” Anna said. “Ohmygod, Iz, this is a bad remake of Lady Chatterley’s Lover!”
Isabella laughed. “Wrong,” she said. “It’s an excellent remake.”
Then she closed the phone, gave it back to Matteo and when he kissed her this time, she knew she hadn’t told Anna the most important thing of all.
She was more than happy.
She was in love.
CHAPTER TEN
ISABELLA had flown before.
Her brothers owned a sleek, private jet. She’d been up in it, of course. And she’d flown in commercial jets. Not often, but a few times.
This was different.
She was in the copilot’s seat of a handsome plane Matteo said was a prop-jet.
And the man beside her, the pilot, was her lover.
She hadn’t had time to think about that for very long. They’d parked at the airport, gone into a small building, Matteo had talked with a pleasant man behind a desk, and then he’d led her to a plane tethered near the runway.
“Does the plane belong to Rio D’Aquila?” she’d asked.
“It’s mine,” Matteo had answered, and then he’d quickly corrected himself. “I mean, I feel as if it’s mine.”
“Because you’re the one who flies it?”
“Yes,” he said, running a hand lightly over the fuselage. “But D’Aquila pilots it, too.”
“Not as well as you, I bet.”
Matteo had turned to her and ruffled her hair.
“Actually, he’s pretty good.”
“He doesn’t mind that we’re using it? Well, I mean, he doesn’t know about me, but—”
“He doesn’t mind,” Matteo had said a little brusquely. “I wouldn’t do this if I thought he would.”
Isabella had put her hand on his arm.
“No,” she’d said softly, “of course you wouldn’t.” She’d paused. “You really like him.”
“I like some things about him. Other things … Yeah. There are things about him that definitely need changing. Basically, he’s just a man, you know? He isn’t all good or all bad.”
He’d kissed her, a quick kiss, and then he’d become all purpose and efficiency as he made his way around the plane for what he’d called an inspection.
“Okay,” he’d finally said.
He’d held out his hand, the same as he had at the truck, and Isabella had taken it and stepped into the sleek aircraft. He’d motioned her into a seat in the cockpit, told her to buckle herself in. Then he’d checked to make sure her seat belt was tight; he’d buckled himself in, too, put on a set of headphones, reached for what looked like a sea of dials and knobs and controls that had to be scrutinized to complete what he explained was a preflight checklist.
Isabella watched him. What an amazing man he was, capable of doing such varied things.
“I’ve never known anybody who knew how to fly,” she said. “I mean, it’s such an unusual thing to do—”
“I loved planes from the time I was just a kid, so when I had the chance to learn, I jumped at it.” He glanced at her, warmed by the interest he saw in her expression. “I was a roughneck—a guy who’s part of the drilling crew—on an oil field in Brazil. The foreman had a small plane.” That allbusiness mask slipped just enough for him to turn to her and flash a boyish grin. “I probably made an ass of myself, hanging around, asking questions, and finally he figured the only way to get rid of me was to take me up and teach me.”
Isabella smiled. “You make going after what you want sound easy.”
“Nothing really important is ever easy to come by.” Rio’s smile tilted. “But some things are worth the cost.” He leaned over and kissed her. Then he shot her another of those fantastic grins. “Sit back, sweetheart, and enjoy the view.”
She knew he meant the view of the earth, slipping beneath them. But what her eyes feasted on was her lover.
Her lover was relaxed, obviously very much in command, pointing out things to her, his voice taking on quiet authority when he spoke with the various air traffic controllers along their flight path.
If Anna saw him now, Isabella suddenly thought, she wouldn’t have called him a caretaker with such derision.
Okay. Not derision. Anna wasn’t a snob. Had Isabella said the man she was going away with was a lawyer or an accountant or a doctor, Anna would still have warned her against it, but would her voice have climbed the scales?
“Your sister wasn’t happy.”
Isabella stared at Matteo. “Don’t tell me you read minds, too.” She sighed. “No. She wasn’t.”
“I understand that.” He looked at her, took her hand and brought it to his lips. “She worries about you.”
“Uh-huh. Anna’s just a little more than a year older than I am but there are times you’d think she was my mother.” She looked at him and grinned. “I already have a mother. Honestly, why would I want two?”
“So you have a sister and four brothers. A big family.”
“Did I tell you all that?” She shook her head. “I talk too much.”
“You don’t,” Rio said quickly, silently cursing himself for that slip of the tongue, “I’m just envious, is all.”
“No brothers or sisters?”
“No family,” he said. “I grew up in an orphanage.” Hell, what was he doing? He was telling her things he’d never told anyone else. Working as a roughneck, learning to fly, now this.
“Oh.” Her voice was soft. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said briskly. “Life is what it is, isn’t that what people say?”
“Yes. But to have nobody—”
I have you.
The words were on the tip of his tongue. That they were, terrified him. He didn’t have her. He didn’t have anyone, didn’t need anyone, didn’t want anyone …
A voice crackled in his headset. They were coming up on an airport in the Carolinas, where he’d planned to touch down, refu
el, and have a quick lunch.
Grazie Cristo for interruptions, Rio thought, and busied himself with the controls.
He tried to keep the conversation light once they were airborne again.
What had drawn Isabella to gardening?
A simple question, but she gave him an answer that made him see her as a little girl, growing up in a big house with a father she’d started out worshipping and ended up despising.
“An old country despot?” Rio said.
She shook her head.
“A crook,” she said, so softly he had to strain his ears to hear her. “A don. A godfather. You know what that is?”
He knew, all right. How could you grow up in Italy without knowing? It occurred to him now that he’d seen the name Cesare Orsini in the papers, heard it on the news, never in a good way.
He’d just never associated that Orsini with his friend Dante.
Dio, how hard it must have been for Isabella, growing up with that kind of ugly notoriety. It would have been difficult enough for the Orsini brothers, but for a daughter …
“My brothers broke with our father when they were still in their teens. It was harder for Anna and me. Girls, especially good Italian girls, aren’t supposed to tell their father to go to hell.”
“Cara.” Rio reached for her hand. “I’m so sorry you had to go through something like that.”
“No. It was all right. It made us strong. You know, pretending, for our mother’s sake, that we were blind to the truth …” Her tone lifted; she gave a little laugh. “And we got even. Anna became a lawyer. A damned good one. I can still remember our father saying now he’d have a consigliere of his very own and Anna looking him in the eye and saying she’d sooner represent the Borgias than him.”
Rio grinned. “I like your sister already.” He looked at her. “And you? What was your act of rebellion, bella? Wait. Don’t tell me. You wanted to nurture things, which is the very opposite of what your father does in his world. And, maybe, to get your hands dirty literally, not figuratively.”
“Wow.” Isabella smiled. “Now you’re going to tell me you’re a shrink and a philosopher, along with everything else.”
“I am a lot of things,” Rio said, after a few seconds. “Some good. Some bad. The more you get to know me, the more you’ll see that.” Another pause, and then he cleared his throat. “What I hope is—is that you’ll believe that the good outweighs the bad. That you will—that you will care for me—”
The Real Rio D'Aquila Page 11
