by Mynx, Sienna
“Harvard.”
She stared into his handsome face, realizing her impressions of him were unfounded, and she’d been extremely prejudiced. He went to college in America? She hadn’t expected to hear that. “What did you study?”
“International law. I left my last year of school.”
“Why?” She swallowed, her voice soft with concern.
“My father summoned me. Two days after my return he was shot. He died of those wounds later. The family needed me.”
“That’s awful.” Her hand reached across the table and covered his. Giovanni smiled, turning over his hand so his palm could grace her soft smaller one. He imagined all of her was as soft.
No, he didn’t find her cold. He wanted more of the warmth he felt like this. “Grazie Bella. I’m okay now with my choices.”
“And his death?” she asked. “Did they catch the people who did it?”
Giovanni hesitated. He never picked at that wound. “No.” He half-lied. The Polizia di Stato didn’t catch his father’s murderer, but he had. Thanks to his cousin. The lovely woman before him wouldn’t appreciate his brand of justice, so he kept that information to himself. The softness of her touch drew away and he clasped her hand tightly to prevent her escape. He brought her palm to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the center. “My turn.”
“Okay.”
“Where were you born?”
“Small town in West Virginia. The United States.”
“Do you have a husband?”
A shadow of regret passed over her pretty features. It was so fleeting he couldn’t be sure. She flashed a sweet smile and shook her head slowly. “No.”
“Boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Lover?”
Her gaze lifted and rested on his. They stared into each other’s eyes for another uncomfortable pause before she spoke. “No.”
“Why Italy? I’ve read in the papers that you are permanently relocating your business to Napoli.”
“It’s true, I plan to make Napoli my home. I chose Italy because, well, it’s a good balance between tradition and fashion. I love all that I’ve seen.”
“Sounds like a statement you’d make for the press.”
She blinked, shocked. Then she laughed. “You’re right. It’s the statement I gave to the press.”
“Okay. I’ll ask a more personal question. Why did you choose to design women’s clothes?”
“What woman doesn’t like fashion? It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
“Surely there’s more, another reason?”
Mira eased her hand from his. She sliced into her fish. “You’ve seen my work. That’s my passion. End of story.”
A more patient man would have moved to another discussion. He was never a patient man. There was more to this woman than the fancy dress he saw her grace along her runway. She looked stunning, but out of place around the flashing bulbs and applause. Dominic told him that the Milan show was the first she’d been invited to in Italia. Lorenzo shared that Fabiana was intent on a vacation for them both. An escape. Why would she need an escape from her passion?
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?” He smiled.
“Staring.”
He nodded. “I guess I am.”
“Something else you want to say?”
Giovanni fingered the stem on his wine glass. He watched her lips part to accept a small portion of fish from her fork and the way she chewed lightly, the tip of her tongue peeking out to swipe at the corner of her mouth. What man wouldn’t stare?
“Who are you? Really?” she asked.
“Now we’re back to me? Is that your final question?”
“Depends on your answer.” She winked.
“I’m a man who makes it his business to understand the motivations of people. What they want, what they need, what their weaknesses are.”
“Why would you become that kind of man?” She frowned.
“A birthright.”
“Interesting.” She ate a bit more.
“When I was a boy my father decided to test me. He made me stand on the edge of a cliff and jump into the sea.”
Her gaze shot back to him. “What? How old were you?”
“Five or Six.” Giovanni said. “Do you know why he did that?”
“That’s awful. Your father forced a six year-old to jump off a cliff?”
“I survived.” His lips twisted and settled into a smile. “Do you know why he did this?”
“No. I don’t know why any sane parent would do that to their child.”
Her bitter reply was followed by a deep frown. Giovanni conceded that Tomosino had ways that kept his mother in fear most of her life. But as a man he understood his father much better now. “Shall I explain?”
“Please.”
“A father wants a son in his own image. Mine did. The events in our childhood strengthen character, shape our lives, and decide the steps we will take to be the people we are born to be. I’m his son. Many still question this fact, and I suppose he did too at one point. Not because of the blood in my veins but my heart and what it was made of.” Giovanni’s voice became hoarse with emotion. He never spoke of his father so openly, not even with Catalina. To show weakness in his life would be a deadly mistake. Mira listened intently. She soothed him, even seduced him with her patient understanding. So he continued. “We are who our parents raise us to be. My accomplishments and failures are because of what I learned the day I jumped off the cliff. I’m Tomosino Battaglia’s son and someday I’ll be made to prove it. Now I’ll ask you again. Who are you Mira? And why do you design women’s clothes?”
Mira recoiled a bit inside to hear the hard truths of his childhood. He seemed so jaded by it all. A father who would force his young boy off a cliff sounded like a madman. To hear Giovanni speak of him, it was an act of love. She lowered her fork. Her heart softened for the man in front of her. Though handsome and obviously wealthy, he sounded empty She stared into the misty blue swirls of his eyes. All too quickly, she ran out of diversions. Her chest swelled with remembrance and emotions of her empty childhood. The choices she made were shaped from it. He was right.
“Who are you?” he asked again.
“I’m Mary Ellison’s granddaughter.”
“And what does that mean?” He pried at her in a voice both comforting and compelling.
The sadness surfaced as it always did when she thought of her long dead grandparents. She opened her mouth to explain her doubts and couldn’t find the words. To talk of them in the past tense only made the present bleak, void.
“She’s gone? Mary?” he pried.
Mira glanced away. The invisible hold he had on her lessened when she looked away from his eyes. How the hell did the conversation take this turn? His hand eased across the table. The tips of their fingers touched. He didn’t take hold of her hand. She forced herself to return her gaze to his. The man preferred it. She could tell. Swallowing a dose of courage she spoke but her voice sounded shaky and small. “I lost my mother when I was a baby, and I never knew my father. My grandparents raised me. I had no other siblings. My extended family wasn’t around me as a child, so I didn’t get to know my cousins or aunts. I spent a lot of time with her. I called her Me-ma.”
“I wish I could see you as a girl. I’m sure you were quite excitable.”
“I could be. My grandmother said I was inquisitive. She taught me to sew. Together we created so many pretty things for us and the women in our church. She never had her own store, but she had the talent. She taught me so much with a sewing needle. Designing women’s clothes comes naturally to me, and it’s who I am.” The admission was dredged from a place of pride and strength and suddenly the truth of her past didn’t hurt as much. However, he had no right to those memories. No one did. She pushed back from her table and rose. “I need some air.” She mumbled and walked off. Her steps became a bit hurried once she left the glass house and entered the villa. Sometimes bein
g alone in her life suited her. She had her work, and she had her friendship with Fabiana. To not have a family to share her success with was a price she had grown to accept, until she met Kei. He helped her believe they could achieve more, but when he tried to offer it she realized that even with him she felt alone. What did that make her? Cold? Lost? Incapable of happiness?
“Mira?”
She wiped at the corners of her eyes and turned to find him in the hall with her. Lost in her thoughts she hadn’t considered where she was walking to, just that she needed to get out and into some fresh air so she could breathe again. “Give me a minute.”
She faced away and wiped at the tears brimming in her eyes. He walked up behind her so suddenly she whirled to fend off his closeness. But he kept his pursuit until she was flush against the wall.
“I said give me a minute.”
“I upset you. I seem to have a habit of doing this. What makes you cry now?” He brushed his thumb under her eyelid and her breath caught.
“Now? I wasn’t crying in there.”
“You know what I mean.”
“All I know is I need a minute. It’s personal, okay?” She tried to shift aside and away from him but he crowded her. Her cheeks burned hot with shame but the dominant reaction was regret. She regretted exposing this wound to him; he seemed like the kind of man that could turn her inside out if she allowed it.
“What can I do?”
Mira wanted to laugh in his face. Instead she closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. There was little left of her grandparents now. Just memories. She had her damn purse snatched and lost the picture she had of them and the bracelet she’s carried all of her life. Dumb. Stupid. How could she be so careless with her treasures? A sob wedged in her throat and she neared tears again. The sensual rub of his palm against her cheek was shockingly comforting and she found herself turning her head toward his touch instead of away. Despite the warning of her inner voice not to do so she lifted her gaze to him. Mira couldn’t break the instant connection between them. It felt like her life depended on maintaining his stare.
His chest rose and fell a little more deeply and her nipples extended from contact. Each brushed hard ridges that sent sweet quivers through her abdomen. She drew a deep breath to ask him to step aside, and he obliged by stepping closer to kiss her.
The brush of his lips over hers was more persuasive than she dared to admit. His moist firm mouth demanded a response, and she gave it willingly. Her arms slowly lifted and his hands smoothly traced down her sides to grip her hips and bring her up against him once their tongues united. The smoldering passion she found in his kiss was hotter than a thousand suns. She held to him by his nape, her head went back, her eyes lowered in submission. A deep intake of breath filled her lungs with his strong aftershave and clean male scent. Giovanni covered her with his broad chest and powerful arms. She felt her knees weaken as his mouth descended with a series of slow shivery kisses along her neck.
How could she abandon everything for a kiss? Easy. One kiss from this man and all her long suppressed feminine desires surfaced. A fresh, uncharted arousal stirred and made her moist between the thighs and achy at her core. Mira sighed. His mouth returned to hers. He crushed her up against the wall. Taking one of her hands by the wrist he pinned it above her head while he pressed what felt like steel against her lower abdomen. She wasn’t prone to giving into a man so easily. He’d seized on her weakness and became her conqueror. As his firm demanding lips caressed hers, and his tongue darted in and out of her mouth, he whispered in Italian, words of desire so decadent they melted her insides.
“I don’t understand all of what you’re saying,” she groaned.
Once more her head began to spin. Raw lust and frustration clashed within her. She could barely move, but her legs parted under his instruction allowing him greater access. She bent her knee to place her foot on the wall and steady herself. Otherwise she’d slip in a puddle of emotions to the floor. There would be no escape. The hold on her wrist tightened, and she tugged on his grip to no avail. So she pushed at his arm with her free hand and then his shoulder, all the while deepening their kiss.
For air and some sense of control, she turned her mouth from his, but his lips across her neck were just as lovely. She groaned deep in her throat and summoned a single word.
“Stop!”
He did.
Giovanni’s head lifted, and he blinked, a bit confused, trying to look into her face to understand her command. It was then his grip lessened enough for her to pull her wrist free and press hard against him. “I said stop. Don’t kiss me again!”
“Why?” he demanded, keeping her pinned to the wall.
“Because it’s making me uncomfortable.”
“Never pegged you for a liar, Bella.”
She glared. “I’m serious. Let me go.”
The humor in the moment drained from his face.
“I just need some air. Now, please!”
Giovanni stepped back, keeping his hands raised to show her he would oblige. She hurried away from him. The doors to the villa and terrace were open, and she marched out into the sunshine. Finally, she could breathe. She’d lost her head. Flirting with the man was one thing, but kissing him was something far more scandalous. The press was hot on her heels after the breakup with Kei and his divestment of their business. She could see the headlines now. No one believed her talent unless a man’s name was in the byline. Mira shook her head and hugged herself against a balmy breeze coming in through the thin leafy branches of the surrounding large trees. “Excuses, excuses, you know the real reason girl,” she mumbled. The truth was she enjoyed the lapse in control too much.
Soft footfalls drew her attention back over her shoulder. Giovanni hurried down the steps to join her. His hands shoved down in his pockets he looked unfazed by her rejection. That stung too. He probably thought she was some flake or maybe just a quick conquest not worthy of the trouble.
Ugh! Weak and needy is not attractive Mira.
“Don’t move. Wait right there.” He called out to her.
Mira rolled her eyes. “I asked for a minute please. I just want to be alone.” She turned left and started toward the tiny bridge that crossed into the gardens. She thought his request was a command and not a warning. Before her was a bed of lilies covering a shallow pond. Too bad she realized it too late. One step and her foot sank. Mira’s arms flapped out from either side and her eyes stretched so wide all the muscles in her brows went tight. She turned to escape the fall and went backward screaming. Water splashed upward from all sides drenching her. She landed on her butt. Giovanni stopped. He blinked at the scene. At first shock registered on his face, then laughter exploded from him further wounding her pride.
“Don’t laugh at me!” She pouted.
The shallow water of the pond reached her waist. White lilies floated around her on the rippling waves and a spray of tiny bugs flew out of their petals. She squinted and swatted them away. “Oh my God! I’m so embarrassed.”
“I’ll help you!” Giovanni surveyed the scene. He gauged his step but still his expensive loafer sank in the murky pond, drenching the hem of his pants leg. Mira smirked once his palm extended out to her. The smugness in his eyes and smile could not go unnoticed. She reached for his hand. When Giovanni aimed to pull her up, she summoned all her strength to pull him down. He anticipated her move, and with one quick jerk of her palm he lifted her and caught her up against him. His powerful free arm scooped up her soggy dress and legs, and he held her in his embrace as if she were a child. His men stood off in the distance, observing. She glanced over to see them frowning at their boss. He not only carried her but the water and lilies she had been submerged in. They were a sight.
Giovanni snarled a few curse words under his breath stomping out toward the paved walkway. She stuttered out hard laughs. “Guess the tour is over. I have to change.” She told him once he set her on her feet.
“Let’s go this way. It’s a shorter walk
and you can see more of the gardens. Breakfast is ruined.” He took her by the hand, and they began to walk.
“Breakfast was fine. I enjoyed it.”
He sucked down an impatient breath and kept walking. Mira couldn’t think of anything to say in response. The smile on her face didn’t fade. Seeing him trying to remain rigid and in control with muddy pants and ruined shoes was far too cute to ignore. This time he took her hand, a bit more possessively. Of course his men remained as their shadow. When she glanced back she could swear they were suppressing the urge not to laugh.
“I embarrassed you?” she teased.
“I said never mind it.”
“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed. Your eyes stretch and your nostrils flare like a bull.”
He lost his step. He glanced down at her. She winked. He shook his head and smiled. Together they walked along a short path at a moderate pace. She blinked at the most exquisite of sculptures in the center of a stone fountain. An enchanting likeness of a woman from ancient times stood at least seven feet tall. It looked Egyptian, definitely Egyptian from the headdress and features.
“Napoleon kept the treasures he’d stolen from Egypt and brought some here. That is one of them. She’s a goddess of some sort. Not sure which.”
“She’s stunning. I wonder what her name was? Probably a Queen or—.”
“We should go.” He pulled her past the sculpture. Mira frowned. She removed her hand from his and he finally took notice of her disapproval. He stopped and stared at her.
“What’s your hurry?”
“I’m done here. I want to leave.”
“You are angry.”
“I can take a joke.” He dismissed the incident in the pond with the wave of his hand. Of course he would since she failed to pull him in.
“No. You’re angry because I kissed you and then pushed you away. Right?”
Exasperated his hand flew up in defeat. “I kissed you. You have every right to turn me away. It’s your choice.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I’m not angry. Disappointed? Yes. Angry? No.”
“Well sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t take to kissing men I don’t know.” She crossed her arms and tossed her chin upward.
