The Sicilian's Proposition

by Rees, Lynette

She nodded. How did he somehow know these things about her? It was a mystery, as if he could see into her soul. Was she so transparent? But then again, she had always worn her heart on her sleeve and maybe that was a failing of hers.

  “Yes. He’s a frustrated journalist of sorts. He never got as far as he’d have liked, so he took up photography instead. Don’t get me wrong, he’s an excellent photographer, but he’d love to be in my shoes as a journalist at the magazine.”

  “So you think maybe he’s a little jealous of you?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose you could say that. I got the job he wanted. To put it bluntly, I think he’d love to be the one writing this feature article about you. He wants the kudos, and he’d love to get into Polly Montgomery’s good books.”

  He sat forward in his chair. “That’s your editor?”

  “Yes. He’d love to be her golden boy.”

  “And you are you not the golden girl then?”

  Joanne laughed. “Ha, far from it. I’m the office rebel. She and I have gone more rounds in the ring than a pair of heavyweight prize fighters.”

  He grinned. “I see. I’m guessing you speak your mind.”

  She straightened and flicked back her hair. “Very much so. If I don’t like something or think something’s unethical, I’ll say so. But Byrne would do an exposé on his own grandmother!”

  “That’s shocking, amore mio. It sounds as if the man has no morals.”

  “Yes, but I learned my lesson about all of that stuff. It didn’t sit right with me when I worked at another magazine, so I resigned.”

  “I like that, a woman with principles.” He grinned.

  “And don’t you forget that next time you rip my bikini bottoms from me! That was really naughty of you.”

  He took her hand across the table and kissed it. “Naughty Joanne, yes, but also nice. And that just about sums me up.” He looked into her eyes. A bolt of electricity coursed around her veins, warming her up inside. She trembled in anticipation of what might be to come.

  ***

  When they arrived at the hotel he had in mind, although he seemed known there, he inquired if they had any vacancies for the night. So he hadn’t taken it for granted they would be sleeping together.

  “Come along, Joanne.” As they walked through the foyer toward the lift, he reached out for her hand but stopped dead in his tracks when he encountered the tall, slightly balding, older man in front of him. Dante’s face reddened, his teeth gritted.

  “What’s the matter?” she whispered under her breath, but he appeared to zone her out.

  Dante stepped forward in front of the man so that he was invading his space, making it difficult for him to pass. The stranger looked at him and appeared to sneer. Then he said something to Dante in Italian she didn’t recognize. The man raised his hands above his head and gesticulated with wild emotion. Whatever he was saying didn’t sound very nice; his eyes widened and his nostrils flared. It was like a spark had ignited between both men.

  Was Dante going to thump him? His hands were balled into fists at his side, his lips thin. She didn’t recognize this Dante. She was just about to pull him to one side when he unblocked the man’s path and stepped away. Then he took Joanne’s arm and led her toward the lift.

  “What on earth was all that about. Is something going on?”

  “Pezzo di spazzatura,” he shouted, over his shoulder. Nothing to concern you, Joanne,” he said in a blunt tone. “That man is a piece of trash. Scum.”

  In other words, ‘Shut up! Joanne!’

  She got the message. He wasn’t about to tell her what was going on, wouldn’t confide in her, especially as she had told him about her deepest, darkest secret. Did she really know Dante Alphonso at all? He seemed an open book, but now she wasn’t so sure. Why did he have such a bad reaction when he encountered that man? And why did he think he was scum?

  By the time they got to their room, she was already yawning, her body ready for sleep, but her mobile, which she had kept switched off most of the time, was now ringing with urgency, and she noticed several text messages and voice mails had been left.

  “Polly has contacted me…” It was Byrne’s voice. “She’s been trying to contact you all day…”

  “Yeah?”

  “She wants that article as soon as possible.”

  “Well it’s a little inconvenient at the moment. Tell her I’ll e-mail it to her tomorrow.”

  “She’s not going to be very pleased, Joanne. I’ve already e-mailed the photographs…You’re too busy swanning around with lover boy to do any work, aren’t you?”

  It had been a long day and feeling she was almost drowning earlier had put a kind of perspective on things. Polly could wait, another day wouldn’t hurt. Even if she had her laptop with her right now, or went downstairs and went online, she wouldn’t do the article justice. Although it was all in her head, she had the bare bones of the article sorted. It had been an emotional day, and it would be better if she slept on things.

  “Tough, she can wait until tomorrow,” she replied, surprising herself with her own tone. Byrne had grated on her nerves this past couple of days and she didn’t care anymore. Of course, what she did care about was Dante and writing a great article that did him proud for the man he was and the things he did for others.

  The line went dead.

  A little voice in her head chastised her. Upsetting Byrne is never a good idea. She chose to ignore it.

  Dante looked at her with a genuine concern in his eyes. “What’s the matter, Joanne?” He handed her a glass of champagne.

  She unfolded her arms, accepted the glass from him, and took a long sip. “I think I should be asking you that, Dante. It hurt you didn’t tell me what all that was about downstairs. You looked as if you could have punched the life out of that man in reception.”

  “Sorry, amore mio.” He sucked in a breath and let it out again. “It was Ponti, the man Carla was seeing.”

  “Oh? Yes, I can see that might upset you.” That should have been evident by his behavior, but she hadn’t considered it at the time.

  “It’s not just that, though. The relationship had been going on for years, since Carla was sixteen. That shocked me the most. It wasn’t just a recent development.”

  “I see.” She gently stroked his arm.

  “So I have more reason to be annoyed than just their affair. My sister is devastated, but she never told me it was Carla her husband had been seeing. She stood by that man for years. She knew he had dalliances but thought they were all over, so to discover it was my girlfriend, the woman I planned to marry, makes it all the worse.”

  She saw his eyes fill up; was he about to cry? Then she saw something else in them—pain. His family honor had been broken and that was a big thing for a Sicilian man. You break that at your peril.

  She placed her hand on his shoulder. She could have wept for him herself; his pride was wounded. What kind of people were they to behave that way toward him and his sister? Yet could Carla be blamed? She had been little more than a child herself at the time, and even though it went on for years, she was manipulated badly.

  “I don’t know what to say, really I don’t. I suppose it was like a double betrayal, Dante.” She hugged him, feeling the need to comfort him.

  They drained their glasses and put them on the table.

  He looked at her, lowered his head, and kissed her gently at first, and then with a passion. He pushed her back toward the bed and lay on top of her. His warm breath tickled her neck. His heady desire molded his face. He stroked her face and looked deep into her eyes.

  “Oh, amore mio. You are the one person who keeps me sane at the moment. If it were not for you, I don’t know what I’d do.”

  He plundered her mouth with his tongue and she groaned. He unbuttoned her thin cotton dress and ran his hands over the contours of her breasts. He helped her to lose the dress and unclipped her bra, and then he suckled first on one breast and then the other. He lowered his head and rai
ned kisses on her stomach. Her body turned to liquid. No one had ever kissed her stomach before. It was so erotic as a tingles of desire coursed around her body.

  Slipping his hand into her lace panties, he smiled and she moaned.

  “Oh Joanne, you want me, I feel it. Your eyes are on fire.”

  “Yes,” she said, looking into his; it was like looking into a mirror.

  She stood and he fell to his knees, kissed her inner thighs, and inhaled the muskiness of her desire. She groaned as he hooked his thumbs under the rim of her panties and drew them down; she stepped out of them and lay back on the bed.

  He removed his T-shirt and she saw that wide expanse of his chest once more; now she would have a chance to run her fingers over it. He removed his jeans and pants and kissed her between her legs, imbibing her inner core. This sensation had never happened before. A charge coursed around her body. Then he smiled and drew close, climbing on the bed beside her. He fiercely kissed her, and then splayed her legs apart as he entered her, slowly filling her inner being as she gasped.

  He swept a lock of her hair away from her face and trailed a finger to trace the outline of her lips. She licked it and took the whole finger in her mouth as he filled her.

  Every so often an electrical impulse traveled around her body, until she could stand it no more. Then she shuddered as a small wave washed over her, getting bigger and bigger until finally the waves were crashing on the rocks. It was the most delicious feeling she had ever experienced.

  So this is what it feels like. This is what the poets and authors write about. And he had made that happen for her.

  “Oh Dante,” she murmured.

  She watched as his eyes widened, and he shuddered as his desire spent inside her. “Oh amore mio,” he cried out. “I love you.”

  Love? He loved her? She had not even considered that an option before. Wasn’t it some sort of holiday romance?

  He studied her face and then rolled off and laid beside her, his breaths short and shallow, and then he turned. “What’s the matter, Joanne? Did I not please you?”

  “Oh you did, definitely. But you just said you loved me. Are you serious?”

  He blinked. “Of course I am. How do you feel about that?”

  “I don’t know, to be honest. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.” In all honesty, apart from her father, no man had ever said he loved her before.

  “Well, Joanne, I love you and you are just going to have to get used to it.”

  She turned over and smiled to herself, hugging the pillow. He drew close and cuddled her from behind. This was a man who knew what he wanted and how to get it. Only one thing concerned her. Wasn’t it only a few months ago he had been in love with Carla? She closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

  ***

  The following morning they were awoken by banging on the hotel bedroom door. Dante rose and put on a white toweling dressing gown that was hanging on the back of the bedroom door. He unlocked the door. A small man stood there, and he spoke to him in Italian. There appeared to be some sort of urgency to his voice. They spoke for a couple of minutes, and all the while Dante kept turning and looking back at Joanne.

  “What’s the matter, Dante?” Joanne asked when the man had departed.

  “It’s Ponti.” He shook his head. “He was found dead last night, Joanne. We have to get back. I need to see my sister.”

  “But how? Why?”

  “I’ve no idea.” He dropped his dressing gown on the floor and tugged on his discarded jeans and T-shirt. We’ll get out of here. We can have coffee and something to eat on the boat on the way back. I’m going to ring my sister to tell her I’m on my way.”

  What the implications were of this, Joanne had no idea. Dante had been extremely angry with the man last night, and it was fortunate he hadn’t laid a finger on him. He’d also been in her company all night, so at least he would have an alibi.

  The blood flowing through her body turned to ice. Although he had been with her, she had slept heavily last night. The wine at the restaurant, the champagne afterwards, the lovemaking, all had made her sleepy. Could she be certain he’d been with her all night long?

  She pushed the thought to one side. No, that was ridiculous. He was a good man. Yet she had been shocked to see that other side of him last night.

  “Please hurry, Joanne!” he shouted as she tried to make sense of her thoughts.

  “Yes, okay.” She rushed off to the bathroom and splashed her face with cold water.

  What had she got herself into? Was Dante the man she thought he was? Had she made love last night to a man with blood on his hands? She shivered as she hurried to dress.

  It was time to get back on the boat and leave this beautiful island and last night’s mystery behind, at least for now.

  ***

  On the journey back, he was quiet. Too quiet. She took him a coffee and left him alone at the helm. Then she went below deck and tried to ring Polly but couldn’t get a signal on her phone.

  Blast.

  There were questions that needed answering. She looked around the boat for any clues she could find to discover what kind of man Dante Alphonso was. But apart from the fine wines he had in his drinks cabinet and a few family photographs, there were none.

  Could this be the same Dante Alphonso who had held her in his arms while she cried as she related the tale of her father’s tragic demise? What did she know about him other than what she read in magazines and newspapers and what he chose to tell her himself? Yet there had been no suggestion that he was a bad person. Being a playboy didn’t make a man a murderer.

  “Joanne.” She heard his muffled voice call from above.

  She drained the last of her coffee and appeared on deck beside him.

  “Are you all right, amore mio?”

  She loved it when he called her “my love” in Italian, but now what did it mean? It was almost as though he were someone else. An evil twin maybe? Then he shot her a warm sincere smile that melted her heart, and beyond all shadow of a doubt, this man was not a murderer. He wasn’t capable of it. Capable of anger, yes. Capable of fighting another man if need be, but capable of taking a life, never. Not unless it was to save another’s life.

  “Yes, I’m okay,” she said as images of their lovemaking last night came to mind.

  “Come here,” he beckoned.

  She went to him without hesitation, content to be safe in his arms. He kissed her forehead. “I know you are frightened, Joanne. Please do not be. Ponti is a bad man. There are other things I didn’t tell you.”

  “Oh?” Her eyes widened with interest.

  “He was involved in organized crime. I warned my sister about this years ago, but by then she had fallen for him. He was made a capo, a captain in the Mafia. He’s done a lot of bad things, Joanne. I think his plan with regard to Carla was to get control of her family vineyard. There have been many people gunning for him over the years. He made a lot of enemies, not just myself. He was thought to be responsible for the death of a local politician and his wife many years ago, but there was never any proof. I believe he had the inside knowledge to set it up. He was a very powerful man. The couple was on their way to the airport for a trip to Italy when a sniper shot them from long range. He had enemies both in the Cosa Nostra and in the good people of this island. I think he was already a marked man. How Carla could have got caught up with him, especially after all the things I told her….” He shook his head, his mouth set in a grim line.

  She let out a breath of relief. It was awful beyond belief, but it explained a lot. How could she ever tell Dante that for a short while, for less than an hour, she thought him capable of murdering a man? It was something she needed to keep to herself. Would he ever forgive her if he found out?

  “But that’s awful. It sounds as if he might have been a sitting target for years then?”

  “Oh yes. The politician concerned was intent on wiping out organized crime on the island, and he had many supporters. His
wife, too, did a lot of good work. People were appalled by it.”

  It must have been difficult for Dante to watch his sister and her children living with such a man; he must have gone through hell worrying about their safety. Well at least now they were a little safer without him being around. Brightening, she asked, “So, you plan to visit your sister today?”

  “Absolutely. I will go to her home to see if there is anything I can do for her and the children. At a time like this, a family needs to stick together. I’d better not take you with me under the circumstances.”

  “I perfectly understand that.” It would give her time to work on the feature article. She’d ring Polly to explain as soon as she got back to the hotel and ask for a few hours grace.

  Chapter Seven

  Dante dropped Joanne back at the hotel. She inquired at reception after Byrne’s whereabouts and discovered he’d booked a flight out a couple of hours ago. That was strange. He must have booked his own flight back. Maybe Polly needed him urgently for another assignment. His work here was finished.

  She tried ringing the London office only to be informed her editor was in an all-day meeting. Typical, when she needed to speak to her. She tried Polly’s mobile phone, but it went through to voice mail.

  Back at her hotel room, she took a long shower, luxuriating in the thoughts of last night’s lovemaking session. He had been such a tender, understanding lover. It was as if he knew what made her tick. No man had ever done that before. Not that she’d been with many, but they seemed more concerned about their own welfare than hers. She tingled at the thought of his hands trailing a blaze along her body and the butterfly kisses on her stomach. That had been most erotic. With any luck, there would be more to come.

  She dressed and took her laptop and a cold cola from the fridge out onto the balcony to work on the article. It would be finished within the next couple of hours. Most of the work was done. She just needed to include the visit to the vineyard and a little more of the man on his own turf. Then along with Byrne’s photographs, the article would be complete.

  She worked at a steady pace for about an hour or so, and then took a break to lie down on the bed and phone room service for something to eat before she returned to work. Working to a deadline was nothing new to her.