Forever Rome (Forever #1)

by Brittney Sahin

  And yet, I was worried that if he didn’t continue to play, some part of him would die as it had with Sean. Football was a way he stayed connected with his brother. And it broke my heart to imagine him no longer playing anymore.

  “You mean about quitting?”

  I nodded, and he released his hands from my thighs and looked down at the table. I took a step back, and he blew out a low, whistling breath.

  Had I upset him? “I’m sorry, I just—”

  “No. It’s okay.” He stood up, pulling me to him. His hand brushed across my cheek, and my lips parted in response.

  “I think I’m making the right decision, but . . .”

  There was a “but”!

  My eyes were drawn to his chest as it inflated once again. I wished that I hadn’t been the one to create the need for him to take such deep breaths. I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. I hated to see him hurt.

  “It is hard. I love playing, but I cannot.”

  “Okay,” I whispered, not sure what else to say. I was normally good at drawing out confessions, but not lancing people until they bled. “I should get showered and changed at my hotel. Could you bring me?”

  He kept his eyes on me for a few moments, spoke a line in Italian and kissed my forehead, then left the room.

  ***

  “I have no idea what we are doing here.” We followed the directions Will had provided us and ended up at a private tour company. “Why would he plan something so touristy when we have you here?” I gave Marco a half-smile as we got out of his Lamborghini.

  “Hey! Maggie! Marco!” Will was coming around from the back of the small office. “This way!” Will waved us around the building, and Marco and I exchanged curious looks before meeting up with him.

  Will rubbed his hands together and smirked, looking like a boy about to open his presents at Christmas. We rounded the building, and I halted so abruptly that Marco bumped right into me.

  “You’re kidding, right? This is why you didn’t tell me!” I slapped Will on the chest and leered at him. “You know I’m afraid of flying!”

  Will shook his head as laughter spilled out.

  “This isn’t funny,” I said, gently slapping him once again.

  “Oh, come on. We’re going to take the chopper along the Amalfi Coast, and then land at the Isle of Capri and take a boat ride. It will be sick,” Will exclaimed.

  I looked over at the pilot, who was doing safety checks on the chopper, chills rushing up my spine. “What do you think, Marco?” I turned around, but his face was long, and he’d lost some of his color. “You okay?” Forgetting Will was a witness, I pressed a hand to Marco’s chest and tried to get his attention, but his eyes were glued to the helicopter. “What’s wrong?”

  “You okay, man?” Will was at our side now.

  I shot Will a questioning look, and he raised a brow back at me, which reminded me to snap my arm back down to my side.

  “I can’t do this. I must go.” Marco turned away and started for the parking lot.

  I shrugged my shoulders at Will and hurried after Marco.

  His back was up against the car, his hands on his hips. He was looking at the gravel beneath his feet. “Marco!” I rushed in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Can we leave?” He shifted away and opened his car door.

  “Um. Yeah, let me tell Will. Hold on.” I hurried back to Will, afraid Marco would leave without me if I were gone too long. “Something is up with him. He wants to leave and for me to go with him. I am so sorry.”

  “No worries, babe. I hope he’s okay.”

  So did I. “Thanks, Will. Sorry again.” He gave me a quick, one-shoulder hug, and I darted back over to Marco, who was waiting in his car with the engine purring.

  Once in, I fastened my seatbelt, and he tore out of the parking lot, the gravel kicking up beneath his tires. I pressed my hands to my lap, trying to press down the burning concern inside of me, waiting for him to speak first.

  After a half hour of silence, he pulled up to his home, opened the car door for me, and we walked into his house.

  Marco grabbed two beers from his fridge and motioned for me to walk out onto his private beach. The lack of conversation was killing me, but I couldn’t bring myself to shatter the silence.

  He sat on the sand, popped the two bottles open, and handed me one as I sat next to him. I focused on the waves as they licked the beach.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I took a sip of the cool liquid and peered at him over my shoulder. “Um. Are you—”

  “Remember how I told you that there is one thing I don’t do that I’m afraid of?” He rested his elbows on his knees, the bottle bumping against his leg as he swirled it around a little.

  “Yeah,” I whispered.

  He looked at me, his eyes like a storm threatening, growing dark. “I hate helicopters. I cannot get within a hundred yards of them.”

  His words had me remembering the day at the Roma football stadium when the owner had flown in on a chopper, and Marco’s mood had shifted. I had thought he just didn’t want to see the owner.

  “I have lost two people in my life,” he said slowly. “My brother and my papà.”

  I pressed my free hand over my mouth. “Oh God.”

  He brought the bottle to his lips and looked out to the sea. “Papà was a helicopter pilot for the military. I used to visit him with my mamma, and he would take me for rides every once in a while. Being up in the sky made me feel closer to my brother.”

  I could see the movement in his throat as he swallowed a lump of emotion. “One day when I was fifteen, I came to visit him at the base where he worked in Roma. He was out running some military flight tests when I got there, and so I waited for his return.”

  Fifteen? Wasn’t that when he’d moved to London? My body was cold despite the warm feel of the sand against my legs. I nestled the bottle upright in the sand and rubbed my arms, trying to heat my body as the chills of foreboding stole my breath.

  “He never came back.” He blew out a deep breath. “The helicopter malfunctioned, and he didn’t survive the crash.”

  I nervously touched his shoulder, afraid he would reject my closeness. “I’m so sorry.” I had held back last night from sharing my condolences about his brother, wanting to focus on his memory instead, but this was just . . . how was Marco still standing, after losing both his brother and father?

  I felt like a total jerk, remembering how I had told Marco about my father’s affair . . . like that was anything compared to this. God, I had been so stupid.

  “I still get sick when I see a helicopter. I cannot ride in one.” He looked at me for the first time since he’d opened up. “I’m a hypocrite for lecturing you on fear when I have allowed fear to impact me as well.”

  “No.” I shook my head and reached for his hand, lacing my fingers with his. “I’m a coward. You are nothing like me. God, you’re the strongest man I have ever met.”

  He dropped his beer bottle, and my eyes followed the liquid as it greeted the sand.

  “I’m not strong.” He removed his hand from mine and toyed with the black leather band at his wrist. “My parents were strong. They could have broken down after they lost their son, but they stayed tough for me.”

  When he looked at me, his eyes were glossy, and I couldn’t fight back the tears that threatened my eyes.

  He handed me the leather band. “Papà had given this to my brother as a gift. When my brother died, papà wore it every day.” His shoulders trembled, and his words fractured as he spoke. “It was returned to my family after the accident. Somehow, it wasn’t destroyed by the fire from the crash.”

  “And you’ve worn it ever since?” I held the band tight in my hands, losing sight of it as liquid burned my eyes.

  “Sì.”

  “I don’t know what to say, Marco. I’m not good at this,” I answered honestly. “But, you are an amazing man, and I know it must be because you were raised by an amazing man.”
>
  He lowered his head and pressed his hands to his face, and I attempted to wrap my arms around him. He didn’t succumb to emotions as I would have; he straightened and wiped a stray tear away. “Sorry.” He shook his head and blinked a few times, trying to tuck his pain away.

  “Please, don’t be. I wish I could help.” I sank back into the sand next to him and handed him the leather band.

  He secured it back on his wrist and focused on the sea again as if I were too painful to look at. “My mother moved us to London to live with her sister after that. My aunt had married a British man, and they’d been living in the UK for over ten years.”

  Wow. I couldn’t even begin to imagine.

  “When I went pro, I asked my papà’s brother, my uncle, if he could make sure my family’s past was never in the news. My uncle works for the government, and he pulled some strings.” Marco kicked at the sand, and then grabbed the empty beer bottle and rolled it between his palms, trapping his nervous energy within the glass. “It’s not that I wanted to make their memories disappear . . . but I didn’t want to share them.”

  “I completely understand.” I rubbed at the goose bumps that prickled my thighs and swiped at the smudged mascara beneath my eyes.

  “My need for privacy does not jive well with my job—and it didn’t mix well with dating a model, either. I didn’t choose the best career option.” His lips quirked into a not-quite smile that faded fast.

  “Do you have pictures of them?”

  Marco shifted and reached for his wallet. He pulled out a photo and unfolded it, then handed it to me.

  “Bellissima,” I said in a soft voice as my finger brushed over the picture. Marco’s parents both kind of looked like him. Attractive with dark hair, light eyes, prominent cheekbones, and great smiles. “Where’s your mother?” I handed him the photo back.

  His lips thinned as he tucked the picture into his wallet. “She’s in London. You will meet her tomorrow. She’s at my aunt’s home, visiting.”

  Oh. Oh . . . I was going to meet his mom?

  He must have sensed my hesitation, or else my face had given way to shock. “If that is okay with you?” he amended.

  “Oh. Of course. Yes, I would love to meet your mother.”

  He nodded as he stood up. “I didn’t mean to ruin the afternoon like this. I hope Will is not mad. He was so excited.”

  “Oh, he’ll be fine. And you didn’t ruin the day.” Marco reached for my hands and helped me to my feet, and I dusted the sand from my backside.

  “What should we do now, then?”

  Sex wasn’t exactly on my to-do list anymore.

  “Want to make some food and watch a movie?”

  A strange and calming happiness crept over me, and my lips lifted into a smile. “That sounds perfect.”

  ***

  “Is that Travis again?”

  Marco looked up at me as he closed the dishwasher. We had completed another very normal couple task: doing the dishes together. Had I ever done dishes with a guy before? Probably not.

  I set my phone back down, folded my arms, and perched my hip against the kitchen island counter. “He’s driving me nuts.”

  “Don’t you think you should answer it? He is your boss.” He washed his hands in the sink, dried them, then walked around to the massive marble countertop in the middle of the kitchen.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I joked, narrowing one eye at him as he studied me. “He’s going to yell at me for something, I’m sure.”

  “Because of me?”

  Yes! “Um.”

  He moved his hands in front of him and closed the gap between us. He touched my wrists and raised my hands, kissing them softly. “I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me. Your life is in New York. After you leave here—”

  I turned away from him as a stab of pain cut into the left side of my chest. “If he found out that you and I . . . That editor from the Rome office, Francesca, hates me.” I sighed and curled my hands into fists. A swirl of orange and pink painted the sky as dusk drew near. “She’s probably going to see to it that I’m fired no matter what.”

  “I won’t let that happen. I’ll call your boss. And Francesca.”

  I spun on my heel and faced him, holding my hand up. “No, that’s not necessary. I made a—”

  “Mistake?” He lifted his brows.

  “A decision to do what I felt was right.”

  “And what is right?”

  I rushed a hand over my face, leaving it in place so he couldn’t read me. Before I had to speak, Marco’s phone began ringing and vibrating against the kitchen island.

  Marco glanced at his phone and silenced the ring. “It’s Sean. I can call him later.”

  “What are your thoughts about Sean playing again for Manchester United?” I diverted his attention, I hoped.

  He moved past me and popped open one of the windows. I inhaled a lungful of crisp air. “I’m happy for him. But it has not stopped his mission to try and get me to play again.”

  “Lori’s worried about him. And I think he’s worried about you.”

  “Sean is a man who needs football. His heart belongs to the game, and so it is good that he is back.” He sighed. “But I understand Lori’s concern. When the time comes for him to stop playing, it could be hard on both of them.”

  “Is your heart in the game?”

  He fidgeted with the black leather band and wet his lips. “I love it, you know that.”

  “But?”

  His eyes flashed to mine, and his lips broke into a slight smile. “But playing professionally was never my long-term plan. I wanted to play for a few more years, and then I had other ideas.” He moved past me and slid open the glass doors to the balcony. The sun was greeting the ocean, the water basking in its light.

  “What plans do you have in mind?”

  He rested his elbows on the wood railing, leaning forward. “I am happiest when I’m working with kids.” He peeked over his shoulder at me. “I would like to start a football league or school where I get to work with kids.” He stood up straight, faced me, then tucked my hair behind my ear. “You reminded me of that when we were at the park last week. Your presence has put much in perspective.”

  And yet he said he couldn’t be with me. I mean, I wasn’t sure if I even wanted a long distance relationship, but the fact that he wasn’t even considering it hurt a little. Okay, so maybe it hurt more than a little. “You confuse me.”

  His re-gripped the railing, shifting away from me, only offering his profile.

  Shit. Had I spoken out loud?

  “What do you mean?”

  I wondered if I could truly open up and say what was on my mind. It would be kind of refreshing. I held on to the railing, hoping to maintain both my confidence and my stability. “Well, one minute I think you hate me. The next second I believe you’re into me. Then I wonder if you’re back with Sophia.” I rolled my tongue over my teeth, thinking about how much I wanted to divulge. “You say you’re not supposed to have sex or relationships.”

  “I’m sorry, Maggie.” He was facing me again, reaching for my hands. “I never meant to hurt you. I am struggling right now, so the timing is—”

  “Shitty. I know.” I was here to write a story on him, and instead, I was longing to keep his secrets. If Travis learned about what happened between Marco and me, the story would get turned over to someone who would write it objectively. My stomach lurched at the thought of Marco’s past exposed simply for the sake of selling more magazines.

  His eyes were glued to my hands, which were tucked inside his. “When I made my rules, it was about trying to survive these next few months. I never had a backup plan. I didn’t think I would need one because I never envisioned I would meet someone like you.”

  “Someone like me?” My gaze moved to the tight strain of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. “I guess you should have only imposed some suggested guidelines for yourself, instead of rules,” I teased, trying
to lighten the mood.

  “Sì, but sometimes rules were made to be broken, no?” He stole my breath as he pulled me up on my toes and his tongue slipped into my mouth.

  Eighteen

  “You handled the flight better than I expected.”

  My attention swept to my hand as Marco laced his fingers with mine. I didn’t want to look out the window as the taxi driver drove us down the wrong side of the road. Of course, the British probably assumed Americans were the ones who were backward. “You put me at ease.”

  He tightened his grip, which pressed my palm against his thigh. “I’m glad I make you comfortable.”

  God, would I ever tire of hearing the beautiful tone of his sexy voice? I was staring at his mouth now, and I didn’t realize I’d shifted my focus until his lips parted into a wide grin. “What?” I chuckled.

  He whispered in my ear, “If you look at my mouth any longer, I’m going to need to use it on you.”

  Goose bumps raced across my skin as his breath tickled my ear. Our innocent make-out session last night had not led to sex. At the time, we were both drained. But now . . . I didn’t know about him, but I was ready to go.

  “It’s too bad we can’t stay the night in London. I know you’ve been to London before, but I would have still loved to show you the city. You know, take you to some of my favorite spots. Plus, Sean and Lori are flying in tonight to visit with their family before they head up to Manchester. They were hoping to get together since we’re here, but I told them we wouldn’t be able to stay.”

  My eyes drifted to a red double-decker bus. “I’ll never get my story done if we don’t get back.” I had finally given in and called my boss, who had given me an earful. I had to explain to him that my relationship with Marco had been misconstrued by the paparazzi, and that my story would be fantastic. The fact that he didn’t ask me if Marco was still planning on retiring, probably meant he’d talked to Sean, and Sean had changed his mind about pushing. After all, Sean was about to go to Manchester to prep for the upcoming season. He didn’t exactly have time for such a behind-the-scenes charade.