“Hang on a second. It wasn’t like that!” Marco raised an exquisitely arched eyebrow but said nothing. “You want to talk about this, fine, but let’s stop pretending this is about anything but your hurt pride. You’re angry. I get that. I left without saying goodbye. I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry.” Marco’s shoulders relaxed a little and she could see the beginnings of a satisfied look on his face. That would never do. “But, let me make one thing clear. You told me to stay; I did not agree. I did not promise to stick around. I might have implied, or inferred, or whatever the proper term is, but I never promised anything. It was a one night stand. Nothing more.”
Marco went still, and Mina pulled back from where she’d leaned in to whisper angrily at him. His eyes glittered in the light of the candles flickering on the table, and she felt a moment’s panic as she realized just who she was confronting. This isn’t how this evening was supposed to go, she thought wildly. Oh please, her subconscious snorted, this is exactly where you wanted this evening to go.
“Maybe that’s what you tell yourself,” Marco said with a curt inclination of his head. “Maybe you need that distance. But I don’t like it when others try to dictate rules to me, and I did make promises that night.” He leaned forward and Mina felt the pull of him, the attraction as taut as piano wire strung between them. “Promises I fully intend to keep.”
“Pro-o-mises?” Mina’s voice cracked. What was he talking about? She didn’t remember any promises. He talked—oh how he talked!—describing things he wanted to do to her, places he wanted to show her, dizzying possibilities, yes, but not promises.
“Don’t tell me you don’t remember, Mina mia,” Marco said, a playful disappointment coloring his voice before it deepened again, “because I remember every word—every whisper, every plea.”
His voice was weaving a spell around her and Mina had to break it. She grabbed her glass and swallowed a huge mouthful of the fruity, tannin-laden wine, barely tasting it. Her legs were trembling under the table, and she could feel her body betraying her. Her heart raced and her breath quickened, and she ached with a longing for the pleasure Marco had wrung from her.
“Tell me you don’t think about that night,” he said, almost as if he could read her mind. His hand rested, dark against the white tablecloth, and Mina’s eyes were drawn to it, watching the patterns he drew on the smooth surface, remembering how those same fingers drew tracer-fire laced patterns on her skin. He lowered his voice, “Tell me that right this minute you aren’t wet from the idea of me bending you over this table right now and taking you. Don’t try to lie, either,” his lips twisted in a mockery of a smile, “I can practically smell you—your need, and your desire. It’s as plain as the nose on your beautiful face.”
Mina whimpered as images of him doing just that raced through her mind, liquid heat pooling between her legs.
“I told you before, very plainly if I remember correctly, that I regretted letting you go that first night we met.” A look of polite disinterest covered his face, but his voice gave him away. “I could have pushed—pried you away from that limpet you called your fiancé—but you would have always blamed yourself and I didn’t want that.”
Mina nodded absently, his words too true to deny. He was right; if she’d cheated on Ethan she’d never have been able to live with herself. It was almost disturbing that Marco understood her so clearly, so quickly.
“But now,” a smile began to show, “you have no ties, no obligations. There is no one standing between me and what I want.” The smile became predatory, white teeth gleaming in the low light. “I want you, Mina mia, and I intend to have you.”
Mina tried to feel offended—his arrogance was astounding—but she couldn’t. Ivy was right: she was the one who took what she wanted and then walked away. Marco still wanted her, for whatever reason, and it was only her own insecurity standing in their way.
“So this exhibit,” she said, forcing moisture into her mouth, “is what? Leverage? Something to keep me in line?” Mina didn’t want to hear the answer, but she had to ask.
Marco snorted. “I somehow doubt that even the Crown Jewels would be enough to keep you in line.” He shook his head. “No, the exhibit is yours no matter what happens. You had a promising future—a real talent—and you made one foolhardy choice that ruined those chances. When your engagement fell through I decided you should have that chance again. I couldn’t give you back the time you’d lost, but I could give you an opportunity. If that opportunity happened to require that you spend time with me… Well, let’s just say that I’d be a terrible businessman if I didn’t keep an eye on my own interests.” He tilted his head to one side, watching her.
At least he’s honest, she thought.
“What if I don’t want,” Mina stumbled, “what you want?” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment—she couldn’t even say the words! How could he want someone who was so naïve? So inexperienced?
A rumbling laugh caught her by surprise and she looked up quickly.
“I don’t think you know what you want,” he said, “but, tonight I am laying all of my cards on the table.” He quirked an eyebrow at her, “That is how you say it, yes?”
“Yes,” she nodded. She was light-headed from trying to follow his reasoning and remembering to breathe.
“The contracts are signed. The exhibit is yours. Your time, as of tomorrow, will be divided between the Oppen and my houses, both here in the U.S. and in Italy. You will need to organize and catalog items from several different estates. If,” he met her eyes, “after the time we spend together you decide that you do not wish to further our relationship, you will be free to leave at any time. I will never force you, but I will use every tool at my disposal to convince you that here,” he waved a hand to indicate the small space between them, “is both where you should be, and where you want to be.”
He leaned in suddenly, the rapid closing of distance taking Mina’s breath away.
“I promise.”
Chapter Four
“No, no, NO! That has to be carried with the arrows pointing UP! That’s why the label reads ‘This End Up!’”
Mina rubbed her forehead trying to ease the headache growing there. A tropical storm was moving in from the Atlantic and she was desperately trying to get the last of the items from Marco’s Miami residence transported—intact—to the Oppen. He only had a tiny fraction of the collection there, but it contained some of the smallest and most delicate pieces, and after hearing some of the horror stories Santiago Valdes had told her—broken burial urns, combined pottery fragments, and straightforward theft—she’d watched the moving team like a broody hen. The Head Curator had surprised her with how supportive he’d been, giving her step by step instructions for every eventuality, and she was finally getting comfortable in her role as Curator of the Genovese Collection.
She wasn’t so comfortable with the collection’s owner, but Marco had been noticeably absent for the past few days. After announcing his intentions at dinner he’d turned around and immediately disappeared. He announced that he had to leave to attend meetings in North Carolina—some big property transfer in the Outer Banks—and was gone within a few hours. She almost missed him.
Almost.
“Mina,” Ivy called as she came around the corner, white latex gloves jarring with her all black outfit, “I need you to sign off on these two items. There’s an unmarked atmospherically sealed case, and an engraved bronze mirror that were separated from everything else. I’m thinking these must be particular favorites.”
Mina followed her friend back down the long hallway, pausing momentarily outside Marco’s bedroom. She’d gotten over the view, and the opulent furnishings. She stopped marveling at the glass cases that flanked the desk in his office. She’d even managed to stop shaking every time she washed her hands and smelled the scent of his soap on her skin, but that bedroom door stopped her every time.
“You okay?” Ivy asked. Her dark eyes were curious and Mina understood. After that
first day she hadn’t been interested in discussing the details of her dubious relationship. All she’d told Ivy was that the exhibit was for real, and that Marco wasn’t as bad as she thought.
“I’m fine,” she said with a rueful laugh. “I never realized that when Santiago was running around yelling about idiots, he had good reasons.” She tilted her head. “I don’t think I’ve been able to finish one thought today without having to stop everything to keep one of the movers from sitting on the crates, or tossing boxes into the truck. My head is killing me.”
Ivy nodded knowingly. Being a conservationist, she had often come back to their little office fuming because some schmuck handled metalwork without gloves, or hadn’t replaced the acid-free covers on paper items before transferring them from one room to another, forgetting that the sunlight that came through the museum’s windows was just as dangerous as the sunlight outside.
“Do you want to put off looking at that apartment this evening?”
Mina sighed. That was another thing that was giving her a headache. Ivy had made it clear that she was welcome to stay with her, but her little bungalow was overflowing with projects and research materials—there simply wasn’t room for Mina to stay long term. She’d arranged to have her belongings removed from the condominium she’d shared with Ethan. I should have used those movers for this job, she thought a little punchily. I think they’d have done a better job. But she still had yet to find a place of her own.
“No,” she said. “If I keep putting it off I’ll never find an apartment. “ She straightened up and forced herself to smile. “At least with the bonus I got from this job I’ll be able to be a little choosier. It’s nice not to be stuck looking at studios.”
Ivy let her hair swing forward. “I wondered about that. Do you think Mr. Genovese realized that a bonus wasn’t typical for something like this?” Her voice was carefully neutral, but Mina knew exactly what she was getting at.
“I’m sure he knew exactly what was typical,” she said. “It’s probably another of his attempts at being supportive, and I’ve decided that if the Universe has decided that the way to help me get through my breakup with Ethan is by supplying help in the guise of Marco Genovese, I am not going to let my pride get in the way of getting on with my life. Marco may not be around forever, but there’s no point in looking a gift horse in the mouth.”
“I am very pleased to hear you say that,” a masculine voice spoke up from the door, causing both women to jump. “Opportunity comes in many forms, and one must be ready to grab it whenever it appears.”
Mina gasped and her eyes flew to the man in the doorway. A week apart had softened the edges of her memory, and she was breathless in the face of just how impressive a figure Marco was. He was wearing jeans today, something she’d never seen before, and she stared at his long denim-encased legs for a moment too long. Ivy bumped her a little, intentionally jarring her back into the present, as she stepped forward to greet her second-hand benefactor.
“Mr. Genovese! How nice to see you. Successful trip I hope?” Ivy’s parents were disgustingly wealthy and at times like these her ability to segue into the common language of polite nothings was very handy.
Marco gave a little bow and half smile.
“The trip was indeed successful, Dr. Fielding. Thank you. I see,” he waved a hand around, “that you have made quite a bit of progress as well.”
Ivy nodded. “Absolutely. We’ve cataloged everything from your office, and from the safe in the living room. I believe the crew is currently transporting the last items from the salon. Oh, and I ate the last of your pesto,” she grinned and Marco laughed in surprise.
“I’m happy to see that your sense of priorities is in order,” he said. “Good pesto should be valued above rubies.” He gave a conspiratorial wink. “Or at least above pottery shards.”
Mina watched the play between them with more than a little envy. She didn’t think she’d ever be comfortable enough with Marco to act like that.
“I didn’t know when to expect you back,” she said. It came out sounding petulant and she flushed in embarrassment. Marco stepped forward and took her hand.
“If I’d had a better timetable I would have made sure to keep you informed. Sometimes these deals happen suddenly. I will try to stay more connected in the future.” He brushed a kiss across the back of her hand and Mina heard Ivy gasp. She resisted the urge to yank her hand away.
“It wasn’t a problem.” She forced a smile and tried not to breathe a sigh of relief when he released her fingers. “I just would have preferred to be able to complete the work without disturbing your living arrangements.” She nodded at the crates and boxes that still littered the living room. “I hope this isn’t too inconvenient.”
Marco’s eyes lingered a little too long on her lips as she spoke and Mina could feel her flush deepening.
“Your presence is anything but an inconvenience,” he said, his tone warm and caressing. “I’m happy for you to be here for as long as you like.” Mina couldn’t break her gaze away from his, the banked heat there sending a shiver up her spine.
They stood like that until Ivy cleared her throat. Mina stepped back reflexively, trying to put as much distance as she could between her and Marco without looking like she was running away, but the smile that threatened to appear on his face showed that he knew exactly the effect he was having on her.
Ivy’s face was pink under her black hair and she shook her head once as if she didn’t believe what she was seeing.
“Ah,” she started and then stopped to clear her throat before trying again. “I’m going to go downstairs and see if the moving team has gotten the last load of cases secured.” She threw a look at Mina. “You two can finish making whatever arrangements you need to.” She turned and walked to the door, stopping for a moment.
“I’ll meet you downstairs at five, okay?” She raised an eyebrow and Mina nodded in agreement. “Yes, that should give us plenty of time to get there. And thanks,” she pushed a curl out of her face. “For everything.” Ivy smiled—a rare sight—and headed out with another shake of her head. Mina watched her friend wander down the long hallway and marveled at how lucky she was. She knew she’d have to explain everything to her sometime, but for now she just thanked her lucky stars that Ivy was on her side.
Thank you for everything—for all your hard work, for letting me stay with you, for helping me apartment hunt, and especially for not demanding an explanation of the sexual tension between me and the millionaire.
Mina owed her big time.
“You have plans this evening?” Marco’s voice cut sharply through her thoughts, and if Mina didn’t know better she’d say he sounded upset. Maybe he wanted you to himself, her inner voice teased and Mina muffled a snort. Yeah, like I’m going to let that happen.
“Yes,” she said, giving him a fixed smile. “Not to worry. As soon as we can get this last load of crates out of here we will be out of your hair.”
He took a step towards her and she fought her instinct to retreat.
“I told you,” he said, “there is no need to hurry. As a matter of fact, I was hoping that I could persuade you to join me for dinner so you could update me on your progress.”
Mina swallowed. Dinner? So not a good idea…
“I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked and she flushed again. “I’m afraid that’s impossible. Like I said, I already have plans this evening. Perhaps we can arrange a meeting later in the week?”
Marco smiled and Mina felt her heart rate crank up another notch.
“But today is Friday! There is no later in the week. Unless you’d like to make plans for the weekend,” he took another step forward, “in which case I am entirely at your disposal.”
He was standing so close to her now—and he smelled so good, sounded so good—she was fighting every instinct she had not to either run screaming or fling herself at him. She raised a trembling hand to her temple and brushed away an imaginary curl just to keep herself fro
m grabbing him.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “So sorry, but really… Ivy and I have to drive out, somewhere.” She was babbling. “He’s expecting me. You understand.”
Marco tilted his head slightly, a frown wrinkling his brow.
“He?” He stepped forward again, reducing the space between them to nothing. She could feel the heat of him through the lightweight knit of her cardigan. “Who are you meeting, Mina? Ethan?”
The words sounded slow and distorted, like they were floating towards her under water, and she struggled to understand. The only thing that was clear was the frown on his face.
“Ethan?” She parroted, and then realized what she’d said. “Oh! Ethan! No, no… we’re looking at an apartment. For me.” She shook her head emphatically. “An Ethan-free apartment.”
Marco didn’t move.
“I’ve been staying with Ivy.” Mina didn’t know why she was explaining—it just seemed the thing to do. “Since, well,” her cheeks were absolutely flaming with embarrassment now, “since you know. The whole Ethan debacle.”
You remember. When my fiancé dumped me and then you screwed my brains out and I ran away from your place. THIS place. She fought down a hysterical bubble of laughter at the realization, and waited for a response. Finally Marco nodded and she let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
“I just can’t stay with her forever, so she’s helping me look for a place. Of my own.”
Hooded eyes stared at her for a long moment. Mina shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, waiting until he finally came to some internal decision. Marco took a half step backwards and turned toward the bedroom door. She watched the muscles in his shoulders shift and could see tension building in the line of his jaw until suddenly he turned, catching her staring.
“You could stay here.” His eyes were fathomless, the infinite darkness holding her prisoner.
Mina stopped breathing, convinced she’d misunderstood. Stay there? With him? Was he insane?
Making Mina 2: Strings Attached Page 3
