Forever Rome (Forever #1)

by Brittney Sahin

  “I thought his injury would keep him from playing again.” I shifted in my seat to better face her, but Lori kept her eyes glued to her empty shot glass.

  “He’s been getting physical therapy ever since he got hurt. A few months ago he approached Manchester United with the idea that he could play again—with doctor approval, of course.”

  Oh. But that was good, right? If Sean could do what he loved again, I couldn’t understand why Lori would be upset. Plus, with Marco quitting, Sean would need another job. This was almost fate. “And what happened?”

  “They said he’d been out for too long, and they didn’t think it was a great idea.” Her shoulders quivered like a cold chill had moved through her. “I was afraid they’d reject the idea, but almost more afraid they’d say yes.”

  “Why?” The word rushed from my mouth before I could stop it.

  Lori grimaced before grabbing my untouched shot and swallowed the clear liquid. She was in for a rough night and day tomorrow if she didn’t stop soon.

  “Lori, are you okay?” Maria probed.

  Lori released a soft hiss. “When he got hurt, Sean became a different person for a while, and he broke up with me. He was drinking a lot and grew depressed.” She bit her lip and looked at me. Despite the alcohol, it was clear she was nervous to admit her thoughts. “No one knows this except Marco. Sean doesn’t even know.”

  And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know.

  “I called Marco and asked him to help Sean, to bring him back into the game somehow. And Marco came up with the idea of having him work as his agent. Sean didn’t buy into the idea at first, but eventually he came around. And he came to his bloody senses and begged me back. But Sean doesn’t know I contacted Marco. If he did . . .”

  I tried to figure out what to say to her, but I still wasn’t sure why she was upset.

  “If Sean plays again, and he gets hurt, or he can’t compete like he used to . . . I’m not sure if I can go through what we went through before. Not again.” Her voice cracked as emotion took over her, and I realized this strong, beautiful woman was fragile enough to break at any moment. I wished I was better at handling situations such as this. I didn’t know how to comfort or help her.

  “I’m sure everything will be okay. Besides, you said Sean got rejected from Manchester, so that reporter earlier must have gotten the facts wrong.” Maria placed her hand over Lori’s on the bar top.

  “Sean told me two weeks ago that he was approached by Manchester, that the coach and owner of the team changed their minds. One of their players suffered an injury during practice, and he’s now benched. So they asked Sean if he’s still interested in playing.” Lori pushed away from the bar and stood up. “We got into an argument, and he said he wouldn’t make any decisions without me.” Lori tossed her hands in the air. “Looks like he told them yes!”

  Maria pursed her lips together and shook her head. “I think I know how to make you better.” Maria stood and reached for Lori’s hand.

  I tossed some euros on the counter and chased after them as they threaded through the crowd. “Where are we going?”

  “Dancing.”

  “Dancing? It’s Wednesday.” Of course, I had danced with Marco only last night. Tuesday, Wednesday—in Rome, the days didn’t matter. Life was about living each moment, here. And I kind of loved it.

  Once we were outside the bar, the warm air greeted my flushed skin and I stopped in my tracks as a group of teenagers in biker jackets brushed past, looking like they had stepped out of West Side Story. One of the boys pushed his hand through his hair and winked at me. Was he even eighteen?

  “He’s a keeper,” Maria joked, elbowing me in the ribs.

  “Come on. There’s a place I used to go to when I was younger. Just down the street.” Maria shooed us along as if her heels were on fire.

  I blinked a little as I hurried to keep up, enjoying the historical atmosphere of the city. The monuments basked beneath spotlights, nestled among modern buildings. Rome at night was even more breathtaking than during the day.

  “Italians go out late. And they stay out late,” Maria commented as we rounded a corner, bumping into a group of women in business suits, this time. “Scusi,” she said and grabbed my wrist and Lori’s. She pushed through the barricade of people hovering in the street outside the bars like they were bowling pins to be knocked down.

  Adrenaline ripped through me as I took in a lungful of the fresh air. This was just what I needed—a fun and free night out with two awesome women.

  No Marco.

  No story.

  “This is Via di Monte Testaccio.” Maria waved her hand in the air. “My favorite spot for clubbing, even on a Wednesday night.” Her silky French slash Italian accent poured through her words as she spoke, and she winked at me as she emphasized the word “Wednesday.” I could see why Will liked her. “Most places don’t really kick off until midnight, but hey, that just means more room for us to dance.”

  We stood in front of a club, and Maria motioned for us to enter. The place was wedged in the middle of several clubs. It was barely noticeable. No flashy sign or spectacular entrance. No sign, at all, actually. “Are you sure this is a club? It’s just a black door.”

  Maria chuckled. “It is the best-kept secret.”

  Oh . . .

  She swung the door open, and Lori and I entered. We were greeted by a bouncer once inside, but there wasn’t a line, and I had to assume it was because it was before midnight.

  The bass slammed into me, vibrating against my chest as we tucked our IDs back away and journeyed down a hall. “Wow.” The high ceilings, bold lighting, and even the American hip hop music playing made me feel at home.

  The club was busier than I expected given the day and time and lack of line. We made our way through the crowd and to the bar, which occupied the entire back wall. Maria ordered us some fruit cocktails, which was a nice change from the shots of tequila. Perhaps my stomach had a fighting chance, after all.

  My phone had rung during our trek to the club and, now that we were at the bar, I decided to check who had called.

  “Who was it?” Lori bit her thumbnail, her eyes transfixed on my phone.

  “Will called five times and Marco once.” Why’d Marco call?

  “You think Will’s okay?” Maria asked.

  “I’ll double check.” I wandered back through the maze of people and out to a hall that led to a set of restrooms, hoping I’d be able to hear back there, but the music was still crazy loud.

  I tapped at my favorites and called Will.

  “Where are you guys?” he asked immediately.

  I gripped the phone tight to my ear and pressed a hand to my other ear, struggling to hear. “What?”

  “Where are you?” Will was probably shouting, but it came across as a whisper through the phone line to me.

  “We’re at some club in Testaccio—or something like that. I don’t know.”

  “Why are you at a club? It’s Wednesday!” his voice rang a little clearer this time when the music in the dance area transitioned to a slow tempo song.

  “Lori needs to let loose. Things were a bit tense back there if you didn’t notice.” I allowed the sarcasm to float through my voice. “It’s hard to talk in here.”

  “Hey, I don’t want you out without—”

  “Gotta bounce,” I mimicked—this was one of Will’s favorite lines whenever I was two seconds away from criticizing his decisions.

  “Maggie!”

  “Bye.” I ended the call before he could argue and tucked the phone away, eager to join my new friends.

  Maria and Lori were in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by a pack of men. As I barreled my way through the crowd of guys, I caught sight of one slipping his hand to Lori’s hips.

  Shit.

  The combination of alcohol and anger could be toxic for her, and I didn’t want her to do anything she’d regret. “Lori.” I stood in front of her and touched her forearm, trying to get h
er attention since her eyes were shut.

  The guy behind her pressed his body against hers—this had her eyes opening. She jolted forward, almost knocking into me.

  At least her mental faculties were still intact.

  “We’re good.” I held my hand up to the guy behind her, but I wasn’t sure if he understood me.

  I was grateful when he turned away.

  “Is Will okay?” Maria rejoined Lori and me once I began moving to the music.

  “Yeah. He was checking on us,” I shouted back.

  Lori pulled me closer, and we stood in the formation of a triangle, blocking our fronts from male intrusion, and keeping an eye out for each other’s backs.

  I let loose and tried to enjoy myself for the next twenty or so minutes. For the most part, I only allowed the memory of Marco’s hands or lips on my body to infiltrate my thoughts every other minute, as opposed to every second. That was an improvement, right?

  My eyes closed as the sweet sound of a female voice filled the room. Waves of electronic music thumped through me. I hadn’t been dancing like this for a long time, and I made a mental note—I needed to make it more of a regular thing back in New York.

  My body was hot, however, and I regretted wearing pants. Lori and Maria seemed so cool and comfortable, dancing in their dresses.

  Then my eyes fluttered back open, and I gasped at what I saw. Lori and Maria were no longer near me, and some guy was grinding against Lori—and she was letting him, unlike last time.

  Damn. That last shot she took a few minutes before must have been one too many.

  If Sean were anything like Marco, he would flip out.

  I’m not a fan of sharing. Marco’s sinfully delicious words sprang to my mind. My skin pebbled at the memory, but I needed to focus. I needed to find reinforcements. Where was Maria?

  I spotted Maria chatting with some guy at the bar. Great, did I need to rescue her, too? Of course, she wasn’t exclusive with Will, was she?

  I gulped back my nerves as I started to push through the dancers, not even sure what I would say or do when I reached the dancing pair. Then my stomach somersaulted. There was Sean, his wavy, dark blonde hair tousled as if he’d been clawing at it. He was standing a few feet behind Lori, just outside the dance floor, his fists clenched at his sides.

  How’d he find us?

  More importantly, how could I intervene before Sean decked the guy who was dancing with Lori?

  “Lori.” I came up next to her and placed my hand on the guy’s arm, directing his attention my way in hopes of relieving Lori from his intrusive hands. “Dance with me?” I asked the man.

  His dark brown eyes shifted to my face, and his lips curved into a grin.

  “Sean’s here,” I said to Lori, and I jerked my head to show her the way. Her eyes widened, and she spun around to face him, but then my new dance partner—the guy smelled like he took a bath in Old Spice—spun me around . . . and now I was facing Marco.

  Marco rubbed a hand over his jaw, and then casually tucked his hands in his pockets. He was observing me like I was some damn art exhibit, and he was debating whether or not to make a bid. His eyes held mine, never letting go, even as the guy dancing with me pressed his body against me.

  I sucked in a startled breath and took a step back, but the man pulled me back into his embrace.

  Marco closed the gap between us, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder.

  My dance partner peeked over at Marco, and Marco cocked his head and spoke in Italian. My dance partner released his hand from my waist and held his hands up in the air before taking off.

  I didn’t need Marco to save me—I was fully capable of employing the knee to the groin move if I saw fit. And I wasn’t Marco’s possession. I was a woman of the twenty-first century, not some damsel in distress.

  And yet a tiny part of me sizzled at the caveman quality of Marco’s nature—his need to protect and claim me. My legs clenched as some strange need took hold. What the hell was that all about? Was the desire to be protected by a man encoded in my DNA?

  No . . .

  “Maggie.” Marco’s voice set a chill in my bones.

  “I, uh, was attempting to rescue Lori from that guy.” Why did I feel the need to explain?

  I wasn’t his, and he wasn’t mine. Case closed.

  Now if only I could get that message through to my body.

  My eyes locked on to Marco’s hands as they came down over my forearms, and then he pulled me closer to him. “I can’t stop thinking about the way my hands felt on your skin the other night,” he said into my ear, making my body shiver.

  I swallowed and pulled away from him, not sure what to say or do. I blinked a few times when I set eyes on a woman by the bar whose phone was aimed at me. She looked familiar. Was she filming us?

  Not again.

  “We should leave.” Dance with him, my mind whispered to me as I moved off the dance floor, but I ignored my desire and sought out Will.

  Will’s back was to the bar, and he was watching me as I made my way to him. I could see a hint of a smile threatening his lips.

  “How’d you find us?” I folded my arms and glanced over at Maria, then back at Will.

  Will smirked, and Maria elbowed him in the ribs.

  Will showed me his palms as if that was supposed to mean something to me. “Sean wanted to talk to Lori, so we just started checking the clubs.”

  Was his response supposed to justify his rationale for finding us? Not in my book. If Lori needed space, Sean should have given it to her. But I kept my mouth shut.

  I squared my shoulders and looked around for Lori and Sean, but couldn’t find them.

  “Sean and Lori took off,” Will responded, reading my thoughts, and I turned back to face him, but Will wasn’t looking at me, he was looking at someone behind me.

  I didn’t need to turn around to verify it was Marco he was looking at.

  I could feel him there. Hell, smell him even, and not in the Old Spice kind of way, but in the oh-shit-he-smells-delicious kind of way.

  “Balliamo?” Marco said into my ear, provoking a bolt of hot need to course right back through me. “Dance with me,” he interpreted.

  With slow and unsure movements, I turned around. But before I could look at Marco, I wanted to find the mystery woman who had been aiming her phone at us, moments before. She wasn’t in sight, and yet that didn’t put my mind at ease.

  “Dance, Maggie.” Will poked my back and gently nudged me toward Marco.

  My hands darted in front of me and landed on Marco’s chest. I wanted to turn around and knock my friend out, but I became distracted by the pounding of Marco’s heart beneath my hand.

  My mind flashed to the time on his balcony, when he told me his heart beat faster around me. What did that even mean? His attitude toward me flip flopped almost as much as mine toward him.

  I tilted my chin up and met his eyes. His lips parted as his eyes darkened, and I could feel the need—the want—rolling off him and slamming into me. I recognized the feeling, because it was inside me, too.

  Devastating desire—the kind that knocked you down and kept you there until you gave in.

  Marco took my hand, lacing my fingers with his, all the while keeping his eyes on mine. I was in some kind of deep trance—I must have been. Because when he turned to face the dance floor, still holding on to me, I followed him without protest.

  But he wasn’t taking me to the dance floor. We left the dance area, walked down a hall, and then stopped in front of a staircase that was guarded by a bouncer standing in front. Marco handed a few large bills to the bouncer and before I knew it, we were walking up a dark stairway. Marco was at my side, his fingers at my back, guiding me, as I used what little light there was to find my way to the top.

  We entered a private room, and I fought back the urge to question how he knew about it. I didn’t need to know.

  Marco released my hand and shut the door behind us. I looked away from him and moved to the gl
ass wall, which overlooked the room in which we had been standing, just moments before. Through the cryogenic smoke that filled the dance floor down below, I could barely make out Will and Maria, who were now moving to the beat of the music.

  “Maggie.”

  I stilled at the sound of Marco’s voice, unable to turn around.

  “Look at me, Maggie,” his voice was soft, and yet commanding. Laced with it was a deep, spellbinding sexiness that had me shifting to meet his gaze, even as I fought the impulse to turn.

  The room was probably the size of my living room back in New York, which wasn’t saying much. But there was a black leather couch against the wall, and a stripper pole smack in the middle of the room. God only knew what happened in this room.

  Or whom Marco had been in here with before.

  I swallowed back the disgust that tried to weasel its way through me, and I took a hesitant step away from the window. Marco sat back on the couch, looking casual with one hand holding his ankle over his knee, observing me. “I know what you are thinking.”

  My gaze flickered over to the stripper pole and back to Marco. “No idea what you’re talking about,” I said as a smile skated across my lips. I moved another step closer to him before stopping about three feet shy of the indomitable force of a man, whose very presence had tilted the planet off its damn axis.

  The room was lit only by the light from the club outside the window, but his eyes gleamed in the darkness.

  He wet his lips and focused on me a moment longer before saying, “My teammates brought me here one night when I first joined Roma. I have not been back in this room since.”

  I cringed inwardly, trying to hide my disgust. He didn’t need to explain. And the last thing I wanted to imagine was some woman stripping for him, or doing God knew what else. “Why’d you bring me here?” I forced myself to speak softly.

  “Come here.” His voice was rough.

  “Why?” I rubbed my hands over my arms as a chill nipped at my skin.

  He released his ankle, and his other foot found the ground. “Because we need to talk.”