by Mynx, Sienna
“Will you leave, please, so I can get dressed?” She nervously ran her hand through her hair to smooth down the puffiness. Last night her dark tresses had a silky flow. Now it was thicker, untamed.
“Forgive me. We will be leaving for breakfast in an hour.”
It would prove best if he honored her request for privacy, so he turned for the door. He paused. When he cast his gaze back to her, he saw the irritation in her face. She wore little to nothing under that robe. He’d seen enough of her curves to know any man who ever touched her had to be a lucky bastard. Fuck it all to hell, he wanted to be added to the list.
“Is there something else?” she asked.
“You’re a designer, so you might care to know today is pretty casual.”
“In Italia, no one dresses casual.” She sassed him.
He suppressed his smile. “True. Maybe you can wear something you’ve made, anything but green. I think you’d look really nice in yellow today.”
“I’m supposed to believe that you don’t like green, and then put on green to spite you? You really must think I’m stupid.”
“No Bella. I think you’re quite beautiful. That’s the point. I’ll be waiting.”
She rolled her eyes at his remark, hearing the door close behind him. “Jerk!”
Mixed feelings surged through her. She tried to force her confused emotions into order. At this point she wasn’t sure if she wanted to smile or frown. Who barges into a room uninvited? The man had nerve. At her foot was one of her many bags. She heaved it up to the bed, unzipped it and rummaged through the many pieces she had created.
“Dammit I didn’t hang any of this up last night.”
The crumbled silks and linens would require ironing, and she hated ironing. Snatching one colored delicate garment after another, her hand landed on a pale yellow sundress. Holding it up, inspecting it closely, she smiled. “Green huh?” She turned to find an iron and stopped. Mira sighed. She glanced back to her luggage. “What is it about that man?”
The angry voices echoed from the parlor to the hall. Fabiana wavered, trying to comprehend what she was hearing. The loudest voice of all was Lorenzo’s, and it appeared he had reason to be upset. His business investment in Isabella’s, the restaurant, went up in smoke. He shouted in Italian over the injustice. She turned the corner and peered inside. Lorenzo leaned forward on the mantle above the fireplace, his head bowed, his hands gripping both ends. Without warning, he exploded and swiped his arm across, knocking over the small alabaster figurines. Several went crashing to the floor and shattered. He whirled on the two men watching, and his eyes flashed up to her. That glare held her frozen in limbo where all her decisions and actions hinged on what would come next.
The men took notice of her as well.
From somewhere deep in her core she summoned her voice. “I’m sorry, I thought we were um, leaving. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Fabiana took a few hurried steps back and collided with a wall of a chest. The man steadied her on her feet and stepped aside. She became acutely aware of his tall presence. It felt as cool as the shadow of a passing giant. Like her he observed Lorenzo and the destruction around his feet with interest. She sensed the stranger's gaze shift to her, and she dared to look him in the face. He had dark black hair, and a dimple that dug into the crease of his cheek when he smirked down at her. It perfectly matched the notch in his chin. It was his eyes that threw her. Lorenzo’s eyes were a dark shade of blue, almost like sapphires. For a moment this man’s eyes shifted in color from clear blue like rain to a seductive shade of violet. She blinked. Was he for real? The guy smelled rich, stood taller than most, had broad shoulders and arms, and an edge that was razor sharp. Who was he?
The moment passed. He returned his gaze to Lorenzo.
He spoke in Italian and addressed the one he called Carlo. The man answered. He said he just arrived to deliver the news to Lorenzo that the club was gone and the whores were gone too. They spilt little blood in the entire ordeal. Apparently none of these men, except for Lorenzo, knew that she spoke Italian too. Fabiana’s stomach turned sour.
Lorenzo cleared his throat and silence fell over the room. Again the eyes of the men returned to her.
He approached. “You look beautiful.”
She rose in her heels and gave him her cheek to kiss. He ran his hand down her back and around to her hip, and Fabiana tried to remain unfazed by the brazen act. The truth was she had been rocked to her core. She suspected they had dealings outside of the law, but she couldn’t deny it now. These men were dangerous.
“Is Mira joining us?”
“She’s dressing.” The man said in a tight controlled voice. Now he was staring at her again. As were all the men.
“Giovanni, allow me to introduce Fabiana Antonia Girelli. She is Mira Ellison’s manager and business partner. Fabiana this is my cousin Giovanni Battaglia.”
Fabiana felt momentary panic as her mind jumped on the name. This was the man Mira had told her about. “He’s your cousin?”
“Yes,” Lorenzo chuckled. “My mother was Giovanni’s father’s sister.”
“Oh.” A renewed wave of apprehension swept through her.
The tall handsome stranger nodded. “Nice to meet you Fabiana.”
“Thank you for your help. We both are appreciative. I think you men have business to conduct, maybe me and my friend should go, um, we were thinking of continuing down to Tuscany and um, I mean to Firenze or no, maybe Venice. Yes. We had plans to go to Venice to visit friends, so, we, um, we will leave.”
Giovanni’s brow arched.
“Silence woman.” Lorenzo dismissed her ramble. “You and Mira are my guests for the next few days.” He then addressed his cousin. “We’ll rejoin you and Mira out front.”
He tugged her by the hand and walked her out of the sitting room away from the glaring eyes of the other men. Fabiana stepped briskly in her heels trying to keep up with his long strides. They headed in the direction of the dining room area. She yanked hard on her hand, freeing it from his grasp. “Stop pulling on me!” She backed away from him. “You lied to me. Who is your cousin really? Is he connected to the Cammora?”
“No.”
“And back there. Telling me to be quiet? How dare you!”
“You talk too much! Ask too many questions that are none of your concern. Don’t speak on things you don’t know. There is no alliance with the Cammora. My cousin is a businessman. That’s it.”
Fabiana narrowed her eyes on him. “Are you kidding me? I heard what they said. Whores, blood? What was that about?”
“None of your affair.” Lorenzo dismissed.
“Then why were you so enraged?”
“It is none of your affair!”
“Mira said he asked for access to our building and payment for his friendship. Now I know why. You set us up, all the while you’re telling me how good things can be between us. Go to hell. Mira and I are leaving.” She turned to march away, but he grabbed her and brought her back to him.
“We are not done, Fabiana.”
“Release me.
His hold tightened and his face came in close. “Relax, there is nothing to fear with me. Shhh…”
She stopped struggling, and he released one of her arms to stroke the side of her face. “Ah, Cara, so lovely. Forgive my rudeness. I reacted impulsively and frightened you.” His voice was smooth in ways that thrilled and frightened her. His mouth brushed hers, and she felt currents of desire ripple through the tease of a kiss and warmly course down her neck to her breasts and quivering belly. She was brought up against his tall imposing frame, and his tongue escaped his mouth entering hers slow and easy. “Yes, relax,” he breathed between the kiss until her arms lifted and circled his neck. He kissed her wildly, seizing her breath and draining all of her resistance. Fabiana’s head rolled back, and she fought to remember why she should be cautious. All of her ached to be explored by him.
The kiss ended naturally. His forehead pressed to hers, his nostrils fla
ring, he held her tight to him. She blinked at his closed eyes and the long lashes that rested upon his high cheekbones. He was the most complicated sexy man she’d ever known.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He confessed in a soft unsteady voice. “I had hoped that if Giovanni and your friend met, this entire mess with your lease could be settled. What happened wasn’t how she perceives it, how you perceive it. It’s business. How things are done.”
“Bullshit.” Fabiana touched his cheek. “That’s bullshit, Lorenzo.”
He kissed her again. She circled his neck with her raised arms, returning his passion. The taste of him intoxicating, she felt weightless. He sucked on her tongue before his kisses trailed the slender length of her neck. He lifted her in his arms, feeding on her as her feet left the ground. She tried to say more, but her voice melted into soft moans.
Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she brought his face back to her mouth, devouring him with her own desperate kisses. Lorenzo walked her backward, pushing her up against the wall, causing her to lose one of her shoes as his massive frame pinned her to the wall. Fighting for control, she turned her head, breaking the kiss. “Wait,” she said putting her hands up to his chest. Kissing her forehead, he lifted up from her, allowing her to ease to the floor.
“Too fast?” he panted, his face desperately close.
“Don’t confuse me,” she said trying to escape him. His arm flew up and kept her before him. Their eyes met. She struggled to catch her breath, staring into his eyes.
“Slow and easy. I can do that. Don’t punish me for this misunderstanding. Trust me. I’m not the bad guy here. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she smiled up at him shyly.
“Sono spiacente bella. I’m sorry, beautiful. You keep me wanting more.”
Timing could seal a man’s fate. The perfect example would be the first time Giovanni watched the woman, who would soon own his heart, descend a flight of stairs. In a single moment, he was changed. It began innocently. After a brief update from his men on why Lorenzo threw his temper tantrum, he strolled out il soggiorno headed for the front foyer.
And then he saw her.
She wore a classy, yet sexy sundress. It was simple, strapless; the skirt did flare a bit at the hem and swirl around her knees. And she’d chosen the loveliest shade of mint green to flatter her medium brown skin, which stirred the loneliness in him. How long had it been since he felt anything outside of raw lust for a woman? What was this fresh, new desire that calmed his inner beast when she smiled his way? She hadn’t fallen for his trick, or maybe she knew what would please him and for once decided to give in a little. Whatever her reason for the dress choice, he was grateful. Her hair was a riot of curls, picked out lovely and bouncing on her shoulders behind a matching headband.
Their eyes met.
“Ciao,” she said.
He admired her legs as they came into view with each measured step she took. Smooth, hairless, and flawless as he imagined the rest of her body to be.
“Bennisma,” he said more to himself than to her.
“Grazie.”
Giovanni touched his chest. “I knew you were beautiful, but even I didn’t know how much more lovely you could become.”
She stepped down and walked directly toward him. “Is Fabiana around? I’d like to talk to her before we leave.”
“Yes. She, uh, she is,” he said, held captive in the deep brown swirls of her irises. They remained silent for a moment staring into each other’s eyes. Fabiana and Lorenzo reappeared. Mira noticed first. Giovanni, however, could not look away from her.
“There you are!” She smiled in a way he wished she had for him. He blinked out of his longing trance and watched her go to the redhead and embrace her. He felt like a lovesick schoolboy. It had become ridiculous. He could see the smirk of humor on Lorenzo’s face, and it made his chest tight with frustration.
“Excuse us.” Fabiana said, taking Mira’s hand and pulling her toward the hall out of earshot of the men. Her friend began to pace, wringing her hands. “I had no idea Lorenzo would bring him here. He’s the one, isn’t he? The one with the flowers, the man you said threatened you?” She spoke in a hushed hurried manner that alarmed Mira.
“He didn’t threaten me.” Mira touched Fabiana’s arm. “What’s wrong? Did he say something to you?”
Fabiana put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. “Here’s the thing. I think I might be wrong about these men. The two of them could be connected to some dangerous people. Wait. No. The two of them are dangerous people. Lorenzo denies it, but I’m not stupid. I’m sorry Mira. I screwed up. Again. I can think of something to get us out of here. You don’t have to go anywhere with him. We can leave today. Let me think of something.” Fabiana began to pace again.
Mira’s heart sank a bit. She couldn’t hide her disappointment. The more she felt herself drawn to this man, the more she tried to ignore that he might not be who he appeared to be. But this was just breakfast, and her time for fun was short. She glanced back out to the hall. The voices of the men speaking in Italian drifted along the hall, indicating they remained close. A small voice in her head warned her that she should tread carefully.
“I got it. I’ll have Angelique call. You stall the men, and I’ll have her call here. Say we have some trouble in Napoli, that we need to come back.”
“No. No. That’s silly. Do you think they will do us harm?”
Fabiana sighed. “No of course not. But I sure as hell don’t think we know enough about them to stay here.”
“Well, we are here.” Mira shook her head. “And we accepted their help. Look. I spoke with Giovanni. We’ll have breakfast and do some sightseeing. That’s all. I don’t want to antagonize them. And be honest, you aren’t done with Lorenzo. Are you?”
“You don’t have to stay here for me. I like Lorenzo, but you and Giovanni are not part of that.”
“I know this. Fabiana stop. It’s okay. Let’s go.” Mira turned and walked back out to the men. She could hear Fabiana on her heels.
“Shall we?” Giovanni extended his arm. Mira exchanged a look with her friend. For a minute he thought she’d further humiliate him by not responding. But she graciously walked over and hooked her arm in his. He walked them out, a bit more encouraged by her willingness to comply. Four armed men climbed inside cars and she was led to his Ferrari. The doors were raised and she eased inside covering her thighs with her skirt like a lady.
“Nice car,” she said when he climbed in and the doors lowered.
“Would you like it drive it?”
“No thanks. These roads are kind of narrow and scary.”
“Hold on.”
The car spit a cloud of dust and gravel as he wheeled it around and zoomed toward the open gates. Mira’s heart lodged in her throat. “Could you slow down please?”
He nodded and eased them into a manageable speed. “We’ll dine at Villa Melzi. I’ve had it arranged. I believe your friend and Lorenzo will take the yacht out.”
“Wait? We’re splitting up?”
“Is that a problem?” he asked.
She chewed on the inside of her jaw. “I suppose not.”
“I was hoping to take you on a tour of the eastern hamlets, especially after seeing your sketch this morning. It’s what you see from your window.”
“Oh. Okay.” She tried to force the nervous quiver from her voice. She needed to be confident. The man made her anxiety spike. Again she wondered about his interest in her. It couldn’t possibly be her lease. And she did see him with a drop dead beautiful Italian girl, so he couldn’t be lonely. Stop it Mira. It’s just breakfast and a tour not a proposal. She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax.
“Do you design men's clothes?” he asked.
“I do.”
“Maybe you can design something for me?”
“I’m expensive.”
Giovanni chuckled. “A lady of your talents should be.”
Mira blushed and loo
ked away, back out the window. They glided along until they entered the city. The cobblestone roadway made him more careful of his speed. From her peripheral view, she could see him shifting gears. Looking down at his strong powerful hand, she noticed the ring with the B on it, and she wondered about him.
“Is that a family heirloom?” she asked pointing to the ring.
He looked to his hand then at her. “It belonged to my father.”
“It’s beautiful, you two close?”
“I loved him very much,” he answered.
His car phone began to chime, and she saw his hand leave the gearshift and him navigate the car with one hand while he picked it up with the other. She wondered more about his life and the kind of man he was. Deciding before she went any further with him that she would ask. He spoke in Italian, and Mira stared at his profile. When his gaze slipped to her instead of the road, she glanced away. She didn’t need an interpreter to know that the call wasn’t good news. Hanging up the phone, he down shifted.
“Is everything okay?”
“It will be,” he said, and a hint of a smile tugged the corner of his mouth. She smiled back and relaxed in the soft leather of the bucket seat that seemed to be molded to her body perfectly. The day had promise.
Chapter Four
Mira admired the leafy groves of cypress until palms disappeared behind the looming architecture of the city. Every block shaped building in an array of colors from rose pink to mango stood at least four-stories tall with flat rust shingled roofs. Tourists and locals mixed along the sidewalks or zipped by on motor scooters. To her right, Lake Como glistened with still waters. She could see a few yachts with open sails resting lazily upon the deep blue under the morning sun. A ferry blew its horn as it approached the pier to unload anxious travelers. The car coasted into a reduced speed.
