Forever Rome (Forever #1)

by Brittney Sahin

  “I don’t do anything terribly interesting,” Alexa said dryly.

  For some reason, I didn’t believe Alexa. My curiosity was piqued, but as I started to formulate a question to ask, I felt the puff of Will’s warm breath at my ear.

  “She’s here.” Will crooked a finger over my shoulder, and I followed his hawk-like stare. “And with him.”

  My eyes fell on Marco and Sophia, who were just entering the gallery.

  Marco was dressed in a charcoal gray suit. His blazer was unbuttoned and beneath it was a fitted white, button-up dress shirt. I couldn’t pull my gaze from his face as his lips spread into a smile, and he laughed at something the man to his right said to him.

  Sophia’s hand was on his arm, holding him like she owned him. She dripped in gorgeousness in her long, flowy purple gown that had crystal studs on the hem and bodice of the dress. The outfit seemed a little over-the-top for an art gallery.

  They had to be back together. There was no mistaking it now.

  “Lori!” Someone was beckoning her, and I was grateful. Perhaps she wouldn’t notice the dumbstruck look I was no doubt sporting.

  “Excuse me.” Lori moved through the crowd, and her sister said goodbye to us before following after her.

  “Wow. Sorry for giving you a hard time.” Will stood in front of me now that the coast was clear. “I guess they’re—”

  “A couple again,” I finished, feeling a little breathless. I turned my back to them, not able to endure the sight.

  This was good, though. If they were together, I wouldn’t be able to lust after him. I would never, ever allow myself to have feelings for a taken man. I wondered how long they had been together, because if I had been complicit in cheating . . .

  I shivered at the thought.

  “They look good together.” I choked on my lie as I studied another one of Lori’s beautiful paintings.

  It was a woman forlorn and alone. Another perfect representation of myself.

  No, but I chose to be alone for a reason. My career was important, and I didn’t need some man, especially an Italian football player, interfering.

  “It’s good to see you.”

  His words trickled through my body at a slow pace, and I squeezed my eyes shut. The deep baritone of Marco’s voice had my hairs standing on end, and I couldn’t seem to move, to spin around to face him.

  “Do you like the art?” Marco’s hand was on my bare back, and he whispered in my ear, “Your dress is distracting. I imagine it will be hard for anyone to focus on the art, when they have you to look upon, instead.”

  Oh God.

  Chills and heat at the same time ravaged my body, shredding every ounce of restraint I had, leaving devastation in its wake.

  “I highly doubt that,” I said, trying to play it cool. Once he saw my face, my eyes would betray me. His satiny words had affected me deep in the core, causing a spiraling sensation of want south of my navel.

  I slowly shifted to face him, and his hand slipped away from me. Will had mysteriously gone missing so we were alone. Well, as alone as two people could be in a crowd of a hundred.

  But it didn’t matter. Even if I had wanted to say to hell with my rules, he was no longer available.

  “How are you?” I bit my lip and lowered my eyes to the champagne flute he held between us. “Thanks,” I mumbled and took the glass from his outstretched hand. I rushed it to my lips and allowed the crisp, gold liquid to warm me, the bubbles popping as if the cork had been unleashed within my chest.

  “I’m okay now.” He took a step back and raked a hand through his hair, and my eye targeted the black leather band on his wrist. It should have seemed out of place with a suit, but on him it made him look even edgier. Sexier.

  Marco appeared to absorb every inch of me, starting at my nude heels and drawing his eyes finally to my mouth. “You look—bellissima. The lady in red.” His eyes darkened and shadows from the shining lights above played off his irises, making them glossy. Almost breakable. I was so curious about the mystery behind the man. But I could only be curious for the sake of my story, now.

  I wet my lips for some damn reason, as his gray eyes were still focused there. “Um. Thank you. You look nice, too.” I sounded so pathetic. I drank some more and turned away from him, unable to look at him any longer. It physically hurt to look at the man, like staring at the sun. He was a ball of flames, dancing in the heavens and burning . . .

  I looked past my champagne glass and down at my heels. I was grateful to be tall, as the extra height always boosted my confidence. I’d never worn four-inch heels before, but when I was at the store, and I remembered how Lori towered over me—and Sophia was five ten—I decided to select the crazy tall shoes, even though I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk in them.

  Marco swept the hair off my shoulder and to my back, and his mouth hovered at my neck. I instinctively angled my head. My skin sizzled with the memory of how his fingers had brought me to orgasm on his balcony. Jeez. I clamped my legs shut at the memory, hoping to ease the tension that grew between my thighs at his close presence.

  “The woman is sad.”

  “What?” I murmured. It was difficult to focus on what he’d said—as his warm breath tickled.

  He moved to my side now, giving me more space to focus (and, you know, breathe). “The woman looks sad. Alone.” He waved his hand in the direction of the painting.

  “Being alone isn’t all that bad,” I noted. “Some people like it.”

  “Do you?”

  I toyed with the idea of looking over my shoulder at him, but decided that’d be too great of a risk, so I kept my attention on the artwork. “I’m young. I have my whole life to deal with men and all that comes with having a man in my life. Right now, I need to focus on my career. I don’t have time for love.”

  “Perhaps you have not found the right man. Since you do not date players, and you are always working with athletes, I guess it must be hard.”

  God, that was part of the problem.

  “Maggie.” My name on his breath had my hairs on end.

  His eyes were on me—I could feel them. I finished my drink and shifted to face him. “Yes?” Sophia caught my eye from across the room, and I took a step away from Marco, guilt pushing through me. “You should probably go back to Sophia. She looks upset.”

  “Can we take a walk?” he asked instead, ignoring my concern.

  “You want to leave?” Could we leave Lori’s opening?

  Marco lowered his head and shut his eyes for a brief moment. When his eyes opened again, I could sense the torment, or maybe frustration, there.

  “Are you two back together?” I needed to know.

  His mouth edged open before he snapped it back shut.

  “Marco, my man.” Sean was at our side, slapping Marco on the back. “Thanks for coming. There are a few people Lori would like you to meet if you don’t mind.”

  Marco kept his eyes on mine and didn’t utter a word.

  “Marco?” Sean snapped his fingers in front of his face. “You okay?”

  Marco’s lips finally parted. “Sì.”

  My heart shriveled in my chest as Marco turned and moved through the crowd, which was growing thicker by the minute.

  Maybe a walk was a good idea. No one would notice if I left. I eyed the door, contemplating my escape.

  But Sophia Rossi was heading my way. Shit. I turned to try and flee, but she was on me fast, startling me by pulling me in for a hug. She planted air kisses close to my cheeks, and my eyes bulged in shock.

  “Maggie. It is good to see you again.” As Sophia took a step back, I wondered if I looked like an idiot statue. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” She clapped her hands together in front of her and arched her shoulders back until she looked even taller than before if that was possible.

  “And what are you doing here?” I asked, unable to hide my resentment at her presence. What was wrong with me? I groaned on the inside and tried to fake a smile.

&n
bsp; Her hand was now on my shoulder, and she was turning me away from the wall of art. She nudged me into the crowd of people who were at the center of the room where the hors d'oeuvres were. “Marco invited me, of course.”

  Of course . . . I mimicked with gross sarcasm in my head.

  “Did you see that beautiful painting of Marco and I?” Sophia pointed to the image I’d spotted earlier and her eyelashes fluttered like wings on a butterfly. I wondered if they were false, and kind of hoped so. Could it be possible for a woman to be so damn perfect?

  “I did see it. It’s spectacular.” God, why did I hate this woman? I hated myself even more for the sick jealousy that suffocated my insides.

  I was a confident, smart, rational woman. So what the hell was going on?

  Maybe it was something in the Italian air.

  Sophia was babbling on about something, but I couldn’t hear her. All I could focus on was Marco. He was talking to someone else, but damned if his eyes were on me. And even from a distance, he caused my body to shiver.

  “Maggie, do you agree?”

  Say what? “Sure,” I answered, with no idea what I agreed to. Marco was moving toward us like a predator on the hunt.

  Who was he after—Sophia or me?

  “Sophia. Maggie. Everything good?” Marco asked once in front of us.

  “Molto bene,” Sophia responded.

  So much for my escape. If I was going to preserve my sanity, I needed to fasten up my lust for the man. I knew in my heart I could never have a one-night stand, but a small part of me wondered if that was what I needed to move past these thoughts of him.

  I scanned the crowd, wondering if any man could rival his looks and almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of finding another guy who would make me go crazy with want.

  Well, one guy was decent. He was in a three-piece suit with light brown hair, and he—

  Shit. He had a ring on his finger.

  Another wave of heat shot between my legs as I noticed Marco’s eyes dipping to my mouth. His sweet Italian voice filled my ears, “Maggie, I have more people to talk to. Will you be here for a while?”

  How could he have been so intimate with me the other night, if he and Sophia were back together? This was why I didn’t date athletes. “Of course,” I sputtered.

  He nodded at me, and Sophia smiled—a fake smile, I was sure. She followed after him as he left.

  “How’d that go?” Lori was at my side. She shouldn’t be wasting her time with me—she had a hundred people vying for her attention.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s a horrible person. I would never have painted that picture of them if I’d known how awful she was.”

  A flicker of relief warmed my insides at her words.

  “I didn’t want her to come, but I had no choice. A year ago, when I decided to have my first launch, she agreed to help sponsor the event.”

  “Oh.” So Sophia earned her place at the event—but was she or wasn’t she Marco’s date?

  “Her name helped draw this crowd. Marco’s, too, of course.” She shrugged her shoulders.

  “Lori, you’re a talented artist. The only reason people are here is for you.”

  A shy smile flitted over her face.

  “Are you and Sean thinking about marriage?” I probed, not sure why the thought came to my mind, knowing full well I had no business asking.

  “Someday, I hope, but Sean has been carrying such a chip on his shoulder, ever since he had to stop playing football. I’m not sure if he’ll ever commit.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay.” She waved her hand. “We’ve been together since forever, so I feel married. A piece of paper won’t change anything, for me. Not really. But now that we’re both in our thirties . . .” She touched her abdomen and forced a smile to her face. “We’ll see.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say, so I nodded.

  “Marco’s getting up there in age, too. He’s what—thirty-two, thirty-three, now? Same as Sean. Of course, age doesn’t matter for men.” She choked out a laugh, but there was something deep and haunting behind her blue eyes. “Anyways, I should mingle. Don’t forget to eat something and have some more champagne.” She tipped her head at my empty glass, which I’d completely forgotten I was holding.

  Lori turned away, but then paused and faced me again. “For the record, I’ve never seen Marco look at Sophia the way he’s been looking at you tonight.”

  The room went silent as I digested her comment. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Marco’s a good guy. Don’t fall for the stereotypes.”

  “Stereotypes?” I shot her a wry smile, knowing damn well what she was talking about.

  “You know, the ones about pro-athletes all being players.” Lori patted my shoulder and disappeared into the crowd.

  Eleven

  I had avoided eye contact with Marco for almost an hour, which had been easy once Will and I moved to the bar top table in the room adjacent to the exhibit. We nursed glass after glass of champagne as we waited.

  Maybe nursed wasn’t the right word. That would imply we drank slowly.

  “How about him?” I squinted my eyes and pointed at a man who was exiting the gallery. He was an Italian version of Ben Affleck with his dark hair laced with silver threads, a prominent nose, and deep set eyes.

  Will knocked down my outstretched arm, which had remained dangling in the air. “No. No. He’s too old. And he looks pissy.” He tapped his jaw and glanced over at another table in the room, where several men sat talking.

  “Nope. I’m not seeing any guys good enough for you. I think you should scratch the plan.”

  “What plan is that?” Marco’s words pierced my attention, and I shifted my gaze up the long legs that stood before me all the way to his hard jaw and smoke gray eyes.

  My cheeks flushed. Marco wasn’t supposed to hear about my drunken plans to shack up with some Italian stranger. I had to admit that it wasn’t the best plan I’d ever made, but it had to be better than winding up with my limbs tangled with his again.

  “Maggie’s looking for a one-night stand,” Will admitted. His eyes creased at the edges as a low rumble sounded from his throat.

  “I suggest you do not,” Marco said in a deep voice. He stood next to me, and his hand was like a blade. It came down on my shoulder, peeling back the layers, exposing me for everyone to see. For him to see.

  My eyes moved up to meet his. “I, um . . .” I tucked my blonde hair behind my right ear, and my skin blazed from the gentle touch of his fingers as they dipped down my back.

  “Aw, we were joking,” Will’s honeyed voice caught my attention.

  Marco dropped his hand to his side and stepped around so that he stood in front of us both. He hid his hands in his pockets, and my gaze lingered at the bottom of his white dress shirt, which was no longer tucked in. The semi-disheveled look only added to his sex appeal.

  When I looked up, there was a tick to his jaw as he clenched it tight. After a few beats, he swallowed, so exaggerated I could almost hear it. “Are you having a good time?”

  “Great,” Will said as his phone began ringing. He pulled his phone from his pocket and stood. “I better take this.”

  Marco took Will’s empty seat when he left and laced his fingers together on the table, looking out at the vast window that overlooked the street below. The twinkling of headlights kept my eyes glued to the road, as well. Looking anywhere was a huge improvement to gawking at Mr. Tall D. Handsome. Tonight, he was taking the nickname to a whole new level.

  He must have used the lavender soap tonight—I recognized it from washing up in his home last week. The smell, mixed with his amber and piney cologne, drifted to my nostrils, and my hand pressed to my nose for a brief moment, as if I could stop the delicious scents from smothering me in all kinds of sexual and naughty ways.

  “Are you okay, Maggie?”

  I didn’t want to look up. I didn’t want to meet his eyes. I was
way too tipsy to be left alone with the man. Who knew what garbled mess of lustful statements might dance off my tongue. I’d be kissing him again if I weren’t careful.

  “I’m great.”

  I heard a low whistle from his mouth as he blew out a breath.

  “Let’s leave,” he said. “We could take a midnight walk in the city.”

  Was it already midnight? I searched the room for a clock, and none was in sight. I dipped my hand into my purse and flipped my phone over to view the screen.

  “It’s eleven twenty,” I announced.

  “Hm. A midnight walk sounds much more exciting than an eleven o’clock walk.” A smile skirted his lips, and he moved to his feet, holding his hand out.

  “What about Sophia?” I’d get early onset wrinkles on my forehead if I was around Marco much more. I was always squinting at him like I was clueless.

  He dropped his hands to his sides and tucked them in his pockets. I forced my gaze away from his hips and up to his mouth before settling on his platinum eyes. “What about her?” he responded casually.

  I wasn’t able to say no. Something inside me snuffed the word from my vocabulary, and all I was able to think or say was “yes.”

  “Molto bene.”

  After sitting for so long, trying to stand in my heels proved more challenging than expected. I wasn’t accustomed to this kind of pain, and I wasn’t a fan.

  Marco and I exited into the warm, inviting night air. Will’s phone was tight to his ear as he paced in front of the building. I caught his attention and motioned that I was walking with Marco. He didn’t seem to object, or perhaps he was too preoccupied with his own problems.

  “Did you enjoy the gallery?” Marco’s arm looped around mine, and I tried not to flinch at the confusing contact as we moved down the street.

  “Lori’s very talented,” I muttered before my lips parted in surprise at the sight before me. I didn’t know the gallery opening was around the block from the Spanish Steps. Beyond a fountain lay the beautiful, butterfly-shaped stairs that led up to a cathedral, which towered at the top, offering sanctuary to sinners.