Sweet Seduction

by Anthology

  I zipped up one of the roller bags, pushed it toward the doorway, and let out a loud sigh.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “Nothing…” I lied.

  Jemma and Rocco were all I had. They were all I used to need, but lately it hadn’t been enough for me. Often, I feel as if the more we went through in life, the more time we spent together, the further we drifted apart. Ironic, right?

  Priorities with her fashion career were all-consuming.

  Even for Luigi. He’d spent days and nights at the office working on the exporting of Girasoli’s brands. I didn’t have those responsibilities with my job. I managed the estate. It wasn’t my life aspiration to take care of Prince Massimo’s Milan palace, but since we lived on the grounds it was an easy gig. Plus, Lex and Massimo were always away in New York, so we had the estate to ourselves.

  That’s why this is the ideal time for me to have a bambino. I want kids so badly. My work schedule could permit me to stay at home and raise them. With nothing but time on my hands, and love in my heart to give, I was ready to be a parent. More than ever.

  “Amore, I pray this trip brings us closer together.” I tossed a few copies of Parenting Italiano into Jemma’s bag and reminded, “Back to the way we were when we’d first met.”

  He stopped stuffing his sweaters in one of the garment bags. Gazing over at me, he instructed, “Don’t start in on your feelings today. Per favore. Let’s pack. We’ll talk when we get to Berlin.”

  “Yeah, right! We haven’t talked about us since Isola di Girasoli.”

  “So…”

  “That was months ago.”

  “Bello, this trip is going to change all of that. It’ll be more than just sex between us this time. You’ll see. Trust me.”

  Ughhh. We need therapy.

  If we’re not exclusive anymore, and moving backward instead of forward, I’ll leave. I have to move on. I may have had low self-esteem a few years ago, but today, I’m not the same man as before.

  The mess was all my doing. Looking down at my chewed nails, I’d come to the conclusion weeks before. I should’ve never agreed to get into our poly relationship to begin with. I knew all along that Jemma was a play-girl, and I’d only get hurt. Luigi would never stand up to her.

  “Bello, seriously, is that all that’s bothering you?” His brow furrowed.

  “Just worried, amore. Like always, I’m thinking about you and Jemma.”

  “Relax. Everything is going to be fantastico.”

  An optimist. I appreciated that about Luigi. Always seeing the bright side in everything, he never let go ‘til he got his way, which had made the current state of our relationship rather odd. He wanted us to get married and belong to him. He liked to possess things, people, and places. My heart and ass were no different.

  Regardless, Jemma had put a stop to that, too. She’d argued, “We are free spirits. We must live in the present, not hold out for the future.”

  Isn’t the future all we have?

  “I hope so,” I encouraged, trying not to feel hopeless.

  The desire for me to belong to Jemma and Luigi exclusively wasn’t only about pleasuring my ass. It was in my mind and soul. An obsession of thoughts which started the day Jemma, and then later Luigi, had told me they were in love with me. And I with them.

  I love them so much. The very idea of not being with them pains me to no end.

  “Pack faster.” He snapped his fingers at me to pay attention.

  Annoyed, I nodded up at him. I didn’t have ADD like Jemma, so I could multi-task. My poor dolce. It was hard at times for her to focus, but Luigi was excellent at getting her to stay present in the moment. Maybe a little too good. Hence why she never thought of our future.

  “You got all of her toiletries, vitamins, shoes, jewelry, and clothing?”

  “Sì.” I fastened the clasp on her metal makeup trunk. “Lex has also arranged for us to take her shopping at each destination.”

  He balked and mumbled resistance under a shallow breath. Loathing all things girly—talking about his feelings, shopping, etc.—he oddly enough had this romantic streak when it came to spending time with him. His machismo was what had lured me in. I’d never met a man as alpha as Luigi before. He had this hypnotic way of making Jemma and I feel as if we were the only thing in the world which mattered to him.

  “This is supposed to be an inspirational trip. Aside from the sex, Lex stated we should also take Jemma shopping, romance her. Take her out dancing.”

  “What about food?” he asked.

  “Is that all you think about?”

  “No. I like romance, too.” With a nod, he dipped his sharp chin. His skin tan, eyes molten, he was sexy. Lovable. Mine.

  “Fine, let’s make a deal. You’re in charge of romance and restaurants, and I’ll be in charge of shopping and sex. Let’s face it, I’m kinkier than you. And I want Jemma to let loose on this trip.”

  “We can manage the sex together.” He leaned over and kissed me. First with a nip on the lip. “I can be dirty, too.” Then a swift spank of his hand on my ass.

  Lord Almighty, he’s strong.

  Standing my ground, I fiercely kissed him back and muttered between our lips touching, “We’ll see.” My tongue. His tongue. For a minute or so, I closed my eyes, letting myself get lost in his arms. Luigi had a powerful control over me. Dominating. Reassuring. Whatever he wanted, I gave. Always had. I’d do anything for him.

  “The rooms are booked. The pilot knows the routes and destinations?” He zipped up the largest of the bags, placing it on the bed.

  “Berlin, Moscow, Paris, Beirut, Ibiza. We end the trip in New York. He has it all. The press does, too. The first article from the journalists will hit while we’re in Germany. Brill, Inc. gave me a list of words we should play up to with the photographers.” I moved another trunk of Jemma’s to the doorway.

  “Such as?” He grabbed our coats.

  “Escapism, playfulness, and…naughty.”

  His hazel eyes dilated on my last word. Licking his full lips, once then twice, he clarified, “As in BDSM?”

  I laughed. “I don’t know about that. Jemma isn’t big on the sadomasochism thing. She doesn’t like to feel pain, remember?”

  After what she’d gone through, who could blame her?

  “She doesn’t like to feel period,” he muttered.

  “Che coda?” I asked him to repeat himself.

  “Never mind,” he dismissed me. “Remember when we tried to tie her up a few a years ago?”

  “Sì.” Switching my middle finger for my ring finger, I chewed.

  A while back, we’d attempted to be playful and had brought rope home to tie her up, but that had resulted in me getting punched in the face. Being the one who gets restrained is so not fun. It’s someone else’s turn, that’s for sure.

  “It’s going to be different this time. Wait ‘til we have her on the plane.”

  “That reminds me, she should be home in…” I noted the time on my watch. “We have about ten minutes.”

  “Let’s hope the media coverage about our holiday is a lot nicer than the reviews of her last fashion collection.” Luigi frowned. “I had no idea things had gotten this bad for her.”

  My turn to give him the dumb-ass stare. How could he not know our Jemma was uninspired for fashion and beauty in recent months?

  After all, he was the director of Girasoli Garments and worked directly under Prince Massimo and Lex Easton. He headed the global export of Jemma Couture, Easton Essentials, and the private label textile side of the business.

  Earlier in the week, it’d pained him to watch our Jemma fall flat on her face with the last collection. No retailers picked up Death Star Galactica, not even our own stores. He brought in a few pieces from the Easton Essentials line which were formal enough to sell to the customers who needed a gown for an event or social affair.

  “You mean bad for all of us,” I corrected. “You heard what Signorina Brill said. For Jemma
to stay creative and fresh, she requires a passionate life. We’re the ones to blame for the lack of inspiration.”

  “Bello—”

  “I’m serious. It’s no more Jemma’s fault for that miserable collection as it is our own.”

  He didn’t say anything but his face agreed with me. I could always tell what he was thinking even when he didn’t say much. The strong, silent type never do. However, he blamed himself, which was obvious. He’d do anything for Jemma. I would, too. Even if it meant abducting her.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I admitted.

  At the time the Manhattanites had suggested the idea, it sorta made sense. Kidnap Jemma and whisk her away somewhere romantic, so we could focus on getting our relationship back on track.

  Looking down at my watch, I started to have reservations.

  This is nuts!

  “So Jemma thinks we’re going to New York City to see Lex and work on her designs. When we take off, the jet flies to Germany, not America. So what?”

  Together, we stood still and stared at each other for a minute.

  Uneasiness swept over me. “You sure you want to do this?”

  “Sì, what other choice do we have?” Luigi crossed his arms over his broad chest. “If we don’t get her back on track with Jemma Couture, and with us, what will we have left?”

  “Nothing.” I wasn’t going to do it any longer, so I admitted, “If this doesn’t work, I’m out.”

  “Do not talk like that.” He stepped right up to my face, his sweet breath smacking my cheeks.

  “Scusi.” I hadn’t meant to upset him, but it was the truth.

  “This will work. We’re going to remind her of what love is. We’re going to bring up the marriage topic again, and this time she’s going to say yes.”

  “What if she doesn’t?”

  “Then we’ll do what we should’ve done all along.” He raked his hand through his sandy brown hair.

  “Eh?” I searched his face for a clue as to what he was talking about. One couldn’t force someone to get married to them if they didn’t want to. Could they?

  “We’re going to give her an ultimatum. Either we get married, or we’re through.”

  “Through,” I repeated. Hearing Luigi say what I had been thinking made my stomach flip. Everything was coming to a head. He was right, enough was enough. But would it be the end of us? “Sì. Right. Okay.”

  I loved Jemma more than any woman in the whole world. She was my first and only girlfriend. Until I’d met her and she’d seduced me, I’d thought I was gay. Shortly thereafter, I’d met Luigi and everything fell into place. Not seeing man or woman, like a white light coming over me, I only experienced pure, blinding bliss.

  The front door to our wing of the mansion opened and then shut.

  “She’s home,” he said.

  Massimo’s dogs barked.

  “We can do this. It’s just a game, to get her to unwind and have fun. Bello, don’t freak out.”

  “Amore, I’m fine. I got this,” I reassured him. Regardless, on the inside I still vacillated.

  Even if Jemma agreed to our new terms for the future, did I really want to be in a relationship where I had to resort to something like this to get what I wanted? Rubbing my temples, I couldn’t answer my own question. That scared me more than abducting her.

  I had to look at the bright side. Overall, it was going to be an easy trip. I mean, who wouldn’t want to go to those exotic locations? The only place I’d visited other than Italy was America.

  There was only one problem: Jemma. She had no clue we were about to kidnap her. Apparently, Massimo Tittoni hadn’t accepted her resignation and told her to get back to work after she’d tried to quit. A few days later, Lex had then pulled Luigi and I into a private meeting where they video-conferenced in Taddy and Blake.

  Taddy had declared, “Honey, pack your fucking bags. You’re going on a vacation.”

  “It’s more than a holiday, Miss Thing. It’s a sexual safari,” Blake had spoken over her.

  A sexual safari. Have you ever heard of such a thing?

  I’m game! Six weeks of lovemaking with my Jemma and Luigi is more than any one man could ask for.

  “My darlings, I’m home!” Jemma shouted up the stairs.

  “Here we go. Let me get her some wine.” I gave Luigi a nod and headed for the bar on the mezzanine level. I need a glass too. A little Chianti might take the edge off for what we’re about to do.

  Abduction.

  Part Two

  A Pretty Mess

  “One night, over too many glasses of red wine, Jemma had told me that when she modeled, people looked up to her. They thought she was beautiful. Blessed, even. Doors got held open. People went out of their way to smile in her direction. She never got ignored. Looking back, Jemma said she’d taken it all for granted. She thought her looks would always be there. She never expected her face to age or her body to get sick. I told her those things don’t matter. It’s her heart and the love she has for Luigi and Rocco which will carry her through the rest of her life. She’d agreed, but I don’t know at the time if she fully understood what I’d meant. Money will come and go. Popularity fades. But love, true love, never dies.” —Lex Easton, wife, mother, and Manhattanite.

  Chapter Four

  Dim All the Lights, Rocco

  Jemma

  Up in the air

  A noise over the intercom woke me.

  Then over the speaker, the pilot’s voice crackled. “We’re clear to land at Berlin Tegel Airport. Please, fasten your seatbelts.”

  Germany?

  WTF…“Luigi!” I shouted, ripping the sleeping mask off my face. “Rocco!”

  “Our captive is awake,” one of them stated huskily in my direction.

  “Why in the hell are we going to Berlin?” Pressing the back of my neck against the headrest, I inhaled deeply through my dry mouth and tried to make sense of what the pilot had just said.

  Allowing my eyes to focus, I blinked a few times. I had been having the most fabulous dream. In it, I’d gone to New York City to work with my girl, Lex. Jemma Couture’s reputation had turned itself around, everyone had forgotten all about Death Star Galactica, and my new designs were a smashing success. We were back in business.

  But that was just a fantasy…

  Because there I sat on the Tittoni jet, the royal family crest etched nicely along the ivory leather seats. Dimly lit, the floor glowed from the corners, creating shadows skittered about. As a kid, I’d ridden on that plane around the world with Massimo, taking us wherever our curiosity desired. The Middle East, Asia, Africa—we’d been everywhere.

  Luigi sat before me, the corners of his mouth curled up into a grin.

  At his side, biting his nails nervously, was Rocco.

  “Dolce, we’re not going to New York City,” Luigi stated.

  In a huff, I raked my nails through my hair, scratching the crown of my scalp. For whatever reason it became itchy when I got nervous.

  “We’re going on what Brill, Inc. has dubbed as a ‘sexual safari’,” Luigi declared, handing me a red folder stacked with papers along with a glass of mineral water. “It’s to inspire your upcoming fashion designs to save your career—”

  “And our relationship,” Rocco added.

  I frowned back at them before taking a sip from the glass, glancing down at the papers.

  Labeled: Sexual Safari. Trying not to gulp my beverage, I scanned the pages. It detailed the cities we were to visit and for how long. Apparently each city had a theme.

  Moscow: Opulence.

  Mmm. Luxury feels good on me.

  Paris: Romance.

  Ohhh…I do love France.

  Beirut: Forbidden.

  Yesss! Anything illicit and I’m on it.

  Ibiza: Beach.

  Favoloso. I could work on my tan.

  “Six weeks,” I grumbled. The gas from the sparkling water came up through my nose, and it burned. “Is this really necessary?
”

  “Sì,” Luigi confirmed, crossing his arms over his suddenly puffed-out chest. The man was huge, there was no denying that.

  “Why Berlin?” Taking a shallow breath, the jet reeked of tuberose and champagne. Then I realized Taddy had used it last.

  “Underground sex clubs. Kink play. Blake and Taddy wanted us to start out naughty, and Lex and Massimo approved. They figured it would get the press talking the quickest. Then we’ll play up romance and love later on our journey.”

  “The Manhattanites do love their debauchery, don’t they?” Rolling my eyes, I understood the work thing. Even after Massimo had offered me my old job back, he’d urged me to still take a vacation.

  He’d said, “Jemma, you need to feel life again. You are the light for so many people around you. We need to you to shine bright like a diamond.”

  What. Ever. I’d told him, “Shine bright, my ass! I’m not a Rihanna song which can be played for your amusement.”

  Regardless, Massimo was poignant and intuitive. He had a way with words which always tugged at my heartstrings. Like a big brother to me, I respected him almost as much as Luigi and Rocco. He’d given me my start in fashion, and later he’d granted me the royal thumbs-up when I’d announced my poly relationship. In our social circle, many people had turned their noses up over my choice to love openly and freely with Luigi and Rocco. Not Massimo.

  My career was in trouble, and he and Lex knew that. Honestly, I wasn’t inspired to start the next collection. Wasn’t that horrible? Self-esteem wise, I hadn’t recovered from the low blow of Death Star Galactica. It frickin’ tanked.

  But…my relationship with Luigi and Rocco …was fine.

  Wasn’t it?

  Defensively, I gaped at them. They’d played pranks on me in the past, but kidnapping me? That was a new one. I had to give my boyfriends credit: they hit the mark on originality. And extra points for keeping this a secret. Usually Rocco blabbed about everything, like what Luigi had bought us for Christmas. He could never manage to keep his beautiful trap shut.

  Mortified, I asked, “Does everyone know we’re doing this?”

  “Sì, it was the Manhattanites’ idea, remember?” Rocco gloated.