by Christa Wick
"Sleep, cara," he urged with a lingering press of his lips against my temple that lasted as long as it took for my body to obey his command.
********************
I woke to an empty bed. Sitting up, I looked around the room. Silvio was gone. He or someone else had left a change of clothes, one of the more modest of my designs I had brought with me. Next to the clothes was a battery-operated light that had been left on.
I lifted the clothes from the table to begin dressing. First I took the undergarments, then the top. When I lifted the linen pants, I saw that the clothes and light were not the only items delivered to the room while I slept.
A signed contracted and a pen also awaited my attention.
I finished dressing then sat on one of the couches and read through the papers. Three million dollars, as promised, would be deposited in the business account I had set up in New York. I needed to contact the finance manager listed on a separate sheet after the last page of the agreement and give him the numbers.
I read through everything three times despite fully comprehending every last word on the first review. It was the subtext I kept hoping to find.
Why had I woken to an empty bed? Where was the acknowledgment of what had transpired last night? Or was the formal contract the acknowledgment that nothing special had really happened, at least not in Silvio's mind.
I rolled the pen between my fingers, tapped it against the static sheets. Part of me felt exactly as I had feared I would -- like a prostitute getting paid. That part of me wanted to rip the contract into tiny shreds then descend the stone steps and let the fragments dissolve in the grotto's deep waters.
But if I did that, I would lose not only my business, but also the opportunity of seeing Silvio again. And I knew, even if I hadn't touched him the same way he had touched me, I wanted to see Silvio again.
Shoulders slumping, I placed the contract against the table and signed my name half a dozen times. Then I stood and headed up the stairs, not knowing where they would lead me.
I came out in a bedroom. I thought perhaps it was Silvio's bedroom, but a quick glance around told me the space wasn't lived in. So I left the room behind and picked my way through the maze of halls and double entry rooms, making wrong turns that brought me back to intersections I had already traversed as my numb mind wondered if my biggest wrong turn had been leaving my room at midnight.
Had I gained funding only to lose my heart?
Seeing a familiar statue in a nook I had only passed while in Anders' presence, I let the question fade and finally found my room. I checked my phone. I had only a single missed call and voicemail -- my father asking if I had safely arrived.
I texted him my apologies and told him I was safe and would soon be leaving for the airport and the return flight to New York.
I checked the time, saw that I had slept past my flight and would need to book a new one. Not wanting to spend any more time than I had to on Isola di Parisi, I took a quick shower, packed everything back into my bag and trunk and left the room with my luggage in tow.
"Ah, Miss Hopkins!"
Recognizing Anders by his very British accent, I turned and offered him a weak smile.
"I fear you've missed your plane," the estate manager informed me. "But, no fear, other transport has been arranged."
He glanced at my bag and trunk then nodded his approval. "Excellent, you look ready."
"Yes," I answered dully. I had thought that waking to find Silvio gone and the cold, informal contract in his place was the worst that could happen. I was wrong -- very, very wrong. Knowing the cheerful manservant had been tasked with getting me off the island as quickly as possible was a harder blow that came with an extra garnish of humiliation.
Anders grabbed the handle on the trunk and began to briskly walk away. "If you'll follow along, I'll get this in the cart and we'll be at the dock in no time."
Silent, I trailed after him, my gaze on the ground so that I wouldn't trip over anything as my mind replayed the prior night.
Halfway to the dock, I froze.
The Bassani brothers had brought me from Venice to the island, along with their father. Would I be reduced to traveling in their company again, the men not only knowing what had transpired but having also participated? Were they the garbage men for Parisi?
"Is everything okay?" Anders asked, a touch of real worry in his voice.
My head shook from side to side but I forced the lie past my lips. "Just a stone caught in the sandal."
I gave my foot a little wiggle then acted as if the imaginary obstruction had fallen out.
Anders continued down the sandy path, his steps falling a little quicker.
Everyone was so damned eager to be rid of me!
"There," he exclaimed as we came into view. "Sails are already up. Isn't she a beauty."
I hadn't yet lifted my gaze from the ground. I had no idea what he was talking about. The boat that had delivered me the day before had run on diesel, not wind.
Looking up, I saw a wooden sailboat in the slip, the body a thick stripe of sky blue with a top and bottom trim of earthy brown. Maybe thirty feet in length, its two sails made the boat look like it could be operated by a single person, but I had no idea how something like that was operated.
I also had no idea who would be operating it until the door on the cabin opened and Silvio Parisi stepped onto the deck.
Even at a distance of a fifty feet, I could see his gaze zero in on my face.
Keeping my expression neutral, I followed behind Anders. When he reached the gangplank, the estate manager stopped. Silvio crossed the brow, grabbed my trunk and carried it onto the boat, placing it next to the cabin door. Then he crossed the plank again and extended his hand toward me.
When I hesitated, he lifted one finely arched eyebrow. "Waves are a bit choppy, cara. I don't want you to wind up in the lagoon."
Pressing my lips together before a scowl could shape them, I curled my fingers around his open palm and stepped onto the plank, my second bag hanging from my shoulder. The weight of the bag shifted. I started to lose my balance. Silvio's free hand captured the side of my waist and steadied me.
We made it across the narrow strip of wood and then he pulled it back onto the boat and secured it.
"Good-bye, Miss Hopkins," Anders called from the pier. He offered the two of us a crisp bow, his heels touching lightly together before he straightened again.
"Good-bye, Anders. Thank you for all of your help."
With my throat tightening, I couldn't say anything else. I had barely been on the island a full twenty-four hours and the stiff estate manager was the only man I had encountered that I wouldn't regret meeting.
I watched him go back up the trail, waiting until he disappeared from sight before I turned and caught Silvio staring at me. I tried to act like his presence didn't affect me. The corners of his mouth dipped and then he looked at my trunk.
"Excuse me while I secure this, bella." Taking the handle by its trunk, he rolled it toward the cabin door.
As he opened the door, I looked past Silvio, into the cabin's interior where a trunk matching the one on deck waited.
"What is that?" I asked, pointing at the matching trunk in my confusion. He had told me the day before in his office that he had a similar piece of luggage, but I could see no reason for it to be on the boat.
He looked, shrugged then rolled my trunk into the cabin and returned to the deck.
"You have a start-up to ... well, start up, cara. I thought I would go to New York and assist you."
I shook my head, denying that he had ever formulated such an intent.
"You weren't there when I woke up," I accused.
When another shrug lifted his shoulders, I felt like punching his perfectly straight nose.
"I was arranging things," he explained then began to move around the boat, preparing it to leave the dock and head onto the lagoon.
My brain ran through everything again and again at warp spee
d. The boat ride in, my meeting with Parisi in his office, seeing the brothers again in the hall at midnight, everything I had let them do to my body, what I had allowed Silvio to do, waking up alone, the contract, the solitary trip through the maze that was his island mansion feeling alone and abandoned and more miserable than I could remember being other than at my mother's funeral. Over and over, arriving at this point each time with him steering the sailboat.
"You know, all of this..." He paused and gestured at the boat then the dock fading from view with its yacht still anchored and then the island beyond. "This is what I made from the education my parents gave me."
I listened but didn't respond. I knew his bio, at least the part he had just mentioned. Given the high level of coordination and subterfuge in the grotto the night before, it was clear that not all of his life was making it into the press. But I was aware that his parents had been thoroughly middle class, how they had saved to send Silvio, their only child, to an English university where he studied finance then got a job working the London Exchange, his energy and intelligence snowballing until he was the one carefully orchestrating IPOs of the hottest new tech companies and earning suitcase after suitcase of shares for his efforts.
"So," he continued when I remained silent. "I thought it would be good for me to go..."
I tilted my head, studying him as he pretended to look at the water in front of us but really kept sneaking a side glance in my direction. Was Silvio Parisi tap dancing around his desire for what had happened last night to be more than a one-time thing?
His cheek flushed red and his shoulders jumped forward. "You know, I could get better terms on the equipment and lease."
"How?" I asked, trying to keep the smile from my voice.
He looked at me for a second, crinkled his nose then made a slight correction to the boat's course.
"I have a reputation as a tough negotiator."
I moved along the deck until I was standing close to him, our bodies almost touching but not quite. This time, I couldn't hide my amusement.
"Right now, not so much," I teased.
Mock offense flashed across his face. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he pulled me to him.
"Be nice, cara. I plan on getting your more orders, better orders that would take years to build up to on your own."
"You'll do that anyway," I said, holding myself tight a little longer.
"You say that because?" he asked, his thumb beginning to stroke at my side.
"Your money and reputation as a brilliant investor are on the line," I answered simply. "Now tell me what you are really negotiating for."
An eternity seemed to pass before he answered. I started to worry, wondering if I had resisted a little too long.
"Time," he answered at last. "Time to figure out exactly what is at stake. I have a rule about never going into a deal blind, Nadine."
"Sometimes," I whispered and relaxed into him. "Sometimes that's the only option. Sometimes you're negotiating blind when you think you aren't because there's a deal you didn't know you want to make."
Silvio pulled me to him, both his hands occupied with my flesh as he let the boat drift gently over the calm water. His gaze jumped all over my face. He kissed me, looked at me some more then kissed me again.
"Time," he repeated. "This is new to me, Nadine."
My heart, already hammering hard in my chest, threatened to knock me out of his embrace.
"What is new?" I asked, my lips trembling as I waited for him to respond.
"Having someone I don't want to share ever again," he answered softly and pressed another kiss against my lips. "Do you understand what I'm saying, love?"
I nodded, swallowed hard and nodded again. He wanted me in a way he had never wanted another woman. I wasn't entertainment, wasn't a toy to enjoy and be enjoyed by.
"I understand," I answered, kissing him back.
The wind picked up and he had to work at keeping the bow pointed toward Venice. His hands left me, but the sensation of his touch lingered.
I had been his queen for a day. Maybe I would reign in his heart no more than a week or a month, or maybe I would be Silvio Parisi's queen for life. It was a question that only time would answer, but on that boat, standing next to him, I was happy to wait for time's reply.
#####THE END#####
Sign up for the Wicked Reads newsletter by visiting christawick.com/wickedreads. It's the best way to discover new book boyfriends to devour!
Pesky Legal Junk
Copyright content © 2015 by Christa Wick
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. All persons and entities are fictional or fictitiously used. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the express written permission from the author/publisher.
