by Lenise Lee
Giovanni, My Love
A Tale of Romance and Suspense
I am ♥ Lenise Lee
A thousand lives to live…one breath…one word…one story at a time…
iamleniselee.wordpress.com
Also Available from Lenise Lee
Love for a Lifetime
An Angel For Ms. Right
Love Before A Wedding
Into The Wind
Romance After Dark
After the Sunset
New Sensations
Simone: Second Chances
Brave World Chronicles
Instinct
Impulse
Holiday Love
The Christmas Gift (also available in My Colorful Romance, Collection)
Falling Snow (My Colorful Romance, Collection)
Sweet Beginnings and Spicy Endings (Collection)
Giovanni, My Love by Lenise Lee.
Copyright © 2012 by Lenise Lee Publications. All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. Except for brief excerpts to be used solely in a review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by print, electronically, mechanically or by any means is strictly forbidden without the expressed written permission of the author.
The unauthorized reproduction of this copyrighted work is illegal.
Federal copyright law prohibits unauthorized reproduction by any means and imposes fines up to $250,000 or up to 5 years in prison for violation.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents have no existence outside of the author’s imagination and are purely fictitious. Any similarity to actual events, locales, or people, living or deceased, is coincidental.
Unless otherwise noted, Scripture is THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. (Bold added.)
WARNING: The material included in this work is intended for adult readers 18 years of age and older. Please store this material in a safe place where underage readers will not have access to view it.
Author’s Note:
This is a work of fiction. Although the characters in this fictitious writing engage in unprotected and experimental sexual acts, the author does not endorse unsafe sexual practices in real life situations.
Excerpt
…As they swayed, Marissa’s lengthy silver gown barely touched the floor below.
On all sides of them, specs of silvery glitter danced across the walls of the dim dining hall. A loving blue gaze caressed Marissa’s face, stroking her emotions and urging her fingers to clamp onto the hard bicep muscles hiding beneath Marco’s dinner jacket. Marco responded to her feverish hold by wrapping an equally possessive grip around her slim waist, pressing Marissa’s shivering belly flat against his muscular body. The rhythm of the sultry jazz melody lured Marissa into laying her head on the wide span of his chest. As she listened to the soothing patter of Marco’s heartbeat, her hands began to roam up the collar of his pressed shirt. Eager fingertips quickly twined themselves in the groomed and glossy tresses of his blond hair. Silky strands that glinted like sun streaks slipped through Marissa’s greedy palms…
Welcome, Dear Reader!
How long has it been since I last whipped up a tale of mystery and romance? Hm…Far too long, I suppose, but I am very excited about sharing this next adventure with you. The story on the pages that follow is my first sequel to After the Sunset. I won’t give away any clues, except this one – Falling in love is scary enough, however, it becomes twice as thrilling and adds a double dose of feverish excitement when you’re never quite sure if the man tapping at your heart is really who he seems to be…Enjoy!
LL
PS –
For readers who have joined me on previous tales and for those that are just now tagging along, I wanted to add a quick note. In this story, I will be reintroducing two pairs of characters…Nichole and Pierce (After the Sunset) and also Jasmine and Alex (The Christmas Gift)…I won’t give away anymore details, but I’m sure you may pleased with the answer to at least one question, which has been lingering for quite some time… ♥
Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine. Song of Songs 1:2
Giovanni, My Love
By
Lenise Lee
PART ONE
~G~
Shadows
Chapter One
Hero
Save the woman or maintain his cover?
From behind the tinted window of a midnight blue sedan, Marcello Rossi had a concealed view of the unfortunate scenario that was about to unfold. By his count, the masked robber would reach his target, a slim American woman who was traveling the gloomy side street alone, in less than sixty seconds. Theft was the most likely motive; however, once the vagrant had the female held under his full control, there was a chance his crime spree might escalate. Would he attempt to force himself upon her in some vulgar way? The flickering light of the lamppost at the corner barely touched this isolated section of the walkway, and made the solitary woman an easy target for all types of mischief.
The concealed man’s hesitation in exiting the parked car had nothing to do with whether or not he would be able to overpower the robber. Rossi was a trained soldier, whose reaction time was measured in milliseconds. He would be able to outmaneuver his rival well before the creeping thug could ever throw his first punch. Agent Rossi’s true dilemma was deciding whether he should attempt to help the attractive female. Once he stepped out of his discreet vantage point, the woman might catch a glimpse of his face. Such a seemingly minor detail held the potential to ruin a critical timeline. He needed a very specific set of events to occur exactly as planned over the next few days. If even one person discovered his actual identity or the real reason for his trip to New York, Rossi’s entire operation would be at risk of exposure. Weeks of strategizing, down to the smallest detail, how to discreetly transport the valuable cargo across international borders might fall apart with one glance.
If he revealed himself now, his actions would be solely motivated by his boyish infatuation with the lovely woman; he was under no obligation to keep her out of harm’s way. The nervous agent had to continuously remind himself that his assignment was to monitor the young woman – a central piece of this complicated puzzle – not to protect her. Personal feelings and desires should never take priority during a mission; such a mistake might lead to his faceless adversaries gaining a crucial advantage. Even so, he could not sit idly by while the helpless female was assaulted right in front of his eyes. He had the power to save her from this cruel fate, but what would be the consequences of his noble act?
With danger rapidly descending upon the unsuspecting woman, Marcello’s pulse tripled. He shifted his weight from side to side in the driver’s seat; it was a struggle to keep his body pinned down. As the frustration over his indecision spiked to its peak, he balled his large hands into tights fists. Time was ticking down fast; he had to make a choice. Watch in silence or become a crusader?
In the blink of an eye, Rossi’s fate was sealed. The glint of the mugger’s chrome-tinted knife forced him into daring motion. He had to act fast or else the silver blade pointed at the woman’s back would become the instrument of her doom. He would deal with the consequences of his bold actions later, and would revise his original plan as needed.
Twenty seconds.
Rossi exited the vehicle and quietly shut the car door. He zipped up his black sweat jacket and pulled the thick hood over his head. Hoping to conceal as much of his face as possible, he made sure the hood
was pulled down over his brow, almost to the tip of his nose.
Keeping his eyes locked on his target, the special ops agent pushed his athletic legs across the narrow street at a stealthy pace. As he moved, only smooth, even breaths flowed from his massive lungs and through his flared nostrils.
Fifteen seconds.
Farther up the street and closer to his foe, Rossi crouched lower to the cold asphalt. He crept toward the thug at an angle where the other man would not easily detect his approach. When he was within better range, Rossi’s sharp eyes rapidly scanned his opponent. The two men were nearly equal in build – standing at tower heights with broad and athletic bodies. Marcello’s best offensive maneuver would be to trap the criminal in a chokehold then twist his wrist until he released the knife.
The agent’s bicep muscles twitched in preparation for his attack. He steadied his legs to spring forward and prepared his strong upper body to tackle the ski-masked villain.
Ten seconds remaining – but time was up.
Rossi’s plan to overtake the criminal before he reached the woman had failed. He had gravely underestimated the hoodlum’s speed and agility. The robber’s free hand connected with the female’s left shoulder. He gripped the startled victim tight, swung her around to face him, then waved the blade menacingly close to her chin. The terrified woman’s chilling screams bounced off the red brick walls on both sides of the thruway and gouged Marcello’s ears.
On instinct, the elite soldier’s mind and body shifted into battle mode. His legs pumped faster, forcing his sneakers to pound hard and swift across the blackened street. Driven by pure adrenaline, Rossi became a quiet stampede, ready to flatten his opponent with one brutal blow. As he ran full force toward his adversary, a testosterone-soaked blur filled his vision.
A split second after Rossi reached out and tried to snake his forearm around the other man’s neck, the robber turned on him. His opponent’s counter-motion was lightning fast and unexpected. It was almost as though he had been anticipating Rossi’s approach the entire time. Before the agent could move to block the strike, the villain’s stiff elbow connected with Rossi’s chest. The thug delivered his vicious blow with dizzying speed and painful accuracy. On impact, Marcello stumbled but quickly recovered his balance. He immediately retaliated by sending a flurry of powerful punches at his rival. With every hit Marcello landed to the center of the villain’s jaw, controlled rage pulsed faster through his blood. When Marcello prepared to strike again, the robber tried to lean away from the rushing fists; the agent wasted no time in taking advantage of the weak angle, hurling a crushing blow into the man’s upper ribcage. The force and shock of the hit stunned the villain’s entire nervous system. The mugger yelled out in pain; arched his crippled chest; and dropped the useless weapon he had been gripping on the frigid concrete.
When Rossi leaned in to deliver another double tap to his opponent’s chin, the slippery villain ducked the jabs. The swift man aimed his strikes at the center of the agent’s chest; however, this time, Rossi was ready for the defensive attack and sidestepped the punches. The two men squared off with huge fists balled up tight. Each fighter swung at exactly the same moment, landing solid shots to the nose and cheek of his opponent. Rossi recovered a half second faster. He reached out and snapped his strong fingers around the other man’s throat. A primal impulse to completely annihilate his enemy surged through his body. He squeezed his palm around the delicate bones, trying to brutally crush the neck he was clutching. Marcello could feel the villain’s Adam’s apple struggling to bob up and down; as his airway was mercilessly shut off from fresh oxygen, he wheezed out every breath with painful difficulty. The robber struggled to loosen the death hold he was locked in, but his efforts were worthless. Behind the vagrant’s dark ski mask, a pair of hateful eyes glared at Marcello. Although the dim florescent glow of the streetlamp shadowed the color of his enemy’s eyes, Marcello could plainly see the burning rage filling the other man’s vicious stare.
A second set of blood-curdling screams pierced the air. The woman was yelling for help, and her cries were starting to draw attention. Busy pedestrians walking along the main avenue were stopping for a brief glance at the alleyway brawl. Most continued on toward their destinations, but some remained behind to witness the savage scuffle.
A devastating pain suddenly shattered Marcello’s concentration. The thief had used the small moment of distraction to hurl his forehead upward and smash it against the agent’s brow. Rossi’s eyesight went dim and his balance shifted. After losing grip on the other man’s throat, he dropped to his knees while the nauseating agony of the blow instantly crippled him.
When Rossi was down, as throbbing pains radiated across the crown of his head and stabbed the length of his spine, the robber turned toward the female again. He lunged at her with ferocious speed and snatched away the handbag she was clutching to her chest. With one powerful tug, the leather strap broke, sending the entire contents of the large purse spilling in all directions on the sidewalk surrounding the trio. While Marcello fought hard to regain his strength, he watched the robber casually lean down and pickup a thin piece of white plastic, probably one of the woman’s credit cards.
After much effort, Marcello finally managed to push away the debilitating vertigo that had stunned his mind. He jumped to his feet and stood up to his full height. The agent motioned toward his target, on the brink of pounding the masked man into the cold ground, but the thief turned and abandoned the scene. He sprinted toward the main street; dove through the center of the gathering crowd like a human bullet; then disappeared into the chilly night.
Rossi watched the fleeing villain with hawk eyes; however, he allowed the other man to escape. It would have been pointless to prolong the stalemate any longer. The pair had been evenly matched, and that fact did not sit well in Marcello’s mind. Later, he would need to evaluate this sequence of events, moment by moment. Somehow, he had missed a critical factor; there was an unseen yet vital clue that would help him to make sense of the unexpected outcome of this battle. Over the length of his career, Special Agent Rossi had trampled dozens of highly trained and deadly mercenaries. How was it possible that a common thief had nearly defeated him in hand-to-hand combat? The answer was simple – It should never have happened this way.
The crackle of an aging window being pried from its warped frame filled the crisp autumn air. Overhead, a gray-haired woman peeked her head from an apartment window facing the thin street. At the corner, the throng of pedestrians grew thicker and the buzz of their muted conversations began to intensify. At any moment, cell phones with mini-cams would be pulled from jacket pockets and purses. To avoid being caught in a photo or video clip, Marcello needed to hastily slip back into the shadow he had emerged from. The slightest detail of his face posted in the local papers or shown on the news sites could be enough to alert many enemies of his presence in the country.
He poised his foot to turn and run, but a tiny whimper halted his exit. Marcello’s eyes followed the sound of the shaky sob. At the base of the apartment building’s grimy brick wall, the frightened female was huddled in a tight ball. Her arms were looped around her bent knees and she was shivering uncontrollably. One glance at the woman’s stone-faced fear was more than enough to tighten his chest and flood the reluctant hero’s lungs with a warm sensation. Devotion, even in its earliest stages, is a dangerous emotion for a covert officer; yet, this deceptive sentiment was continuing to draw Marcello Rossi further away from his sworn duties. He should have fled; nevertheless, he felt compelled to stay. The urgent need to watch over his lady for a little while longer was too intense to deny. His heart was pressing him to reach out and touch her, to cup her cinnamon-shaded face in his hands, and whisper words of comfort into her small ears. The impulse to hold his woman in the safety of his arms, to assure her that he would never allow anyone to ever harm her was tingling at the tips of Marcello’s fingers. In spite of these desires, Agent Rossi understood that, for many reasons, such affe
ction would be impossible to ever share with her.
Marcello pulled the hood of his jacket down further over his face; afterward, he moved a few steps closer in her direction. The woman immediately shrieked and pushed herself against the wall. He stopped a short distance away then lifted his hands and opened his palms as a sign of peace. His intent was to express to the woman that he was not her enemy – at least, not for now. Eventually, a time might come when the pair would be trapped on opposite sides of a very thin line, which would separate friend from foe.
Once Marcello felt confident that she understood his intentions were harmless, he kneeled down, grabbed her purse, and started to push her strewn belongings inside. After a few staggered seconds, from the corner of his eye, he saw the female slowly unwrapped herself from the wall. She moved forward and started helping to gather up her possessions. As the crowd surged closer to them, Rossi made sure to keep his head dipped low, with his nose nearly touching the top of his chest. Even one picture of him was one too many.
“Thank you.”
A tiny whisper floated into Marcello’s ears, filling his mind with a rush of confusing and thrilling emotions. He had heard the female’s soft voice many times before, by way of radio surveillance, but never this near to his naked ear and only a breath away from brushing against his bare skin. It was a bittersweet feeling to endure, the temptation of being so close to the object of his kindling affection yet forbidden to speak a single word to her in return.
