Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Talk? That’s what we’re calling it now? An hour? Don’t you dare. You stay the night with him and have a brilliant time. If I was going back with him I certainly wouldn’t be coming back in an hour!”
She doesn’t understand, and I can’t explain any of it now, but I’ll tell her everything once he explains the mystery that it would appear everyone in this room knows except me, Sam, and the staff. “If I am later than an hour how will you get back?”
“I’ll hang around here for another couple of hours then the limo will pick me up and take me to the hotel.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“One hundred percent. Go and have a great time. Trust me there is nothing I’d rather do than be here listening to Professor Chernyshevsky.”
Now I have witnessed the terrible corruption in that room, I appreciate her clear honesty and innocence even more. I lean forward and kiss her cheek. “I love you, Sam.”
“Are you practicing on me?” she teases.
I shake my head. “I’m not in love with him.”
“You better not be. You just met him. You’ll scare the poor guy off.” She frowns. “Hang on. You don’t have any condoms, do you?”
For some weird reason, I blush.
“I knew it. Here.” She opens her purse, takes two silver packets out, reaches into my purse, and puts them in. Then she pulls away and winks. “There. You’re all set to go.”
“Somehow, I don’t think I’ll need them, but thanks.”
She crosses her arms under her breasts. “Bet my life you’ll need them.”
“Stop betting your life on stupid things,” I scold. “Anyway, I better go. Remember, I’ll have my cell phone so call me if you need me.”
“Stop worrying about me. I can take care of myself. See you early tomorrow. Breakfast is at eight. Remember we have a full day before our flight.”
“I’ll be there well before that,” I promise.
“I’ll be expecting details in the morning,” she calls gaily, as I walk towards Rocco.
I lift my hand in a wave without turning around.
There is a midnight-blue Rolls Royce waiting for us outside. He opens the door closest to the sidewalk and settles me into the seat, before walking around to the other side. The inside of the car is very plush and redolent with the smell of new leather and Christmas candles. I sink into the soft leather with a sigh. The man and the girl in the room seem like a dream, or a mirage I created in my imagination now.
I touch my temples. I must have drunk too much alcohol. There is an incessant throbbing in my head.
“Headache?” Rocco asks.
“Just a slight one,” I admit. “Sam and I have been on the champagne all day long. If you have a couple of headache tablets that would be great.”
“Lie back and relax. I have just the thing for you in my apartment.”
I lay back and close my eyes. The car journey is very smooth, but I feel my headache getting worse and worse. Thankfully, not too long later, I hear his voice say softly, “We’re here.”
I open my eyes and look around. We are parked in front of a tall building. There is a doorman in a long black coat at the door who rushes forward to open my door and greets me politely. We walk to a lift with chrome doors. The doors open and we enter.
Rocco inserts a black card into a slot above the console and the car begins to move. Silently, we ride up to the penthouse on the 67th floor. The doors open to a sort of foyer, or a layer of security between the elevator and apartment. Rocco puts a different card key into the heavy door and we enter his apartment.
The ceilings are at least twenty feet high and there is an amazing glass staircase leading up to the first floor.
“Have a seat while I get you something for your headache,” he says over his shoulder as he disappears from view.
I move into the vast space. It is exactly how I imagined a very rich bachelor would live. It’s all polished glass, black leather, and chrome. The only thing that stands out as different is the artwork, for the walls are full of stunning old masterpieces. Some I have seen in books, and some I have never ever seen, which can only mean they have never been recorded. They have just belonged to his family ever since they were painted.
As I am standing under one that I think looks very much like a Vermeer, but the world has never heard of, he returns holding a glass with a brownish liquid in it.
“What is that?”
“Just some herbs and leaves. It will keep you from getting a hangover.”
“Are you sure it’s not some date rape drug?” I tease, taking the glass.
His lips twist. “Do you really think I need a date-rape drug?”
I sniff it. It smells very herby. “Does it taste horrible?”
He shrugs. “Depends if you prefer having a headache or two seconds of bitter medicine.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you that Sam and I tried to come up the mountain to your house on Friday, but halfway up, a huge boulder broke off the mountain and came crashing down on the road. It crashed only a few meters in front of us. My car skidded and nearly went off the road. It was terrifying for a few moments I really thought it was the end of us, but as you can see, we made it out alive, though my car is history. But it’s okay, it was an old car. The main thing is we were both safe. The amazing thing is by the time we walked down the mountain, your men had cleared up the road, and Raoul was driving down the mountain on his way to the bar. He stopped and gave us a lift home.”
“Yes, Raoul told me about your accident. Since it is my fault for deliberately keeping the roads dangerous and unstable, I have replaced your car.”
My eyes widen with astonishment. “You did what?”
“It is parked behind the gallery.”
I shake my head. “You bought me a car!”
He looks amused. “Yes. The keys have been delivered to the gallery. Now drink up.”
I pinch my nose and gulp the brew down. “That was actually not too bad,” I say, before my knees turn to jelly. As I drop into soft blackness, a pair of strong hands catch me.
Chapter 41
Autumn
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wo07t6XjNO4
-Too Lost In You-
I awaken on a wide bed. There is a glass ceiling above and through it I can see the stars in the night sky. I blink and turn my head. The vast room is lit only by moonlight. It is very beautiful, but for a second I do not understand where I am or how I came to be there. Then it comes back, Rocco’s apartment, the drink…
I take a deep breath. How strange. My headache is gone and I feel as fresh as if I have dove into a cool waterfall in summer. I rise to my elbows.
“Ah, you are awake.”
I realize my dress is very crumpled as I sit up and face him. He is sitting on an armchair. He has on only his dress shirt from the night before, the collar unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up. In the pale light of the moon he looks other-worldly. Too magnificent to be real. A wild fantasy that few women ever expect to meet in their lifetime.
“Where am I?”
“One of the bedrooms in my apartment.”
“How long have I been sleeping?”
“No more than an hour.”
“Wow, I feel like I slept for hours. That brown brew of yours is powerful stuff. I feel amazing. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. You can take a bottle back with you. Just dissolve two tablespoons in a glass of water and voila…”
“Thanks, I will. Sam will almost definitely need it tomorrow.”
“Just make sure there is one hour for her to sleep it off.”
In the ghostly light from the moon, he sighs.
“So this is it,” I whisper. “Time for you to spill the beans.”
He nods slowly. “Yes, it’s time, but first may I tell you a little story?”
I pull the silky sheets around my shoulders. “I’m all ears, Rocco.”
He drops his head and his wonderful hair glows in t
he moonlight. How I long to run my fingers through the silky strands.
“A very long time ago, in a far-away country, a very lonely man found a baby pigeon in the woods. It had fallen out of its nest. It was a poor thing, half-dead, a leg was mangled, and its wings were caked in mud. He took it home in his coat and nursed it as if it was his child. He woke up many times in the night to feed it warm milk from his palm. When it looked like it would die, he kept it inside his shirt, and prayed for it to survive. And it did. It became an adult. It always limped and it never really learned to fly. Something was wrong with one of its wings. Nevertheless, he loved it with all his heart.”
Rocco looks up at me, a strange expression in his eyes. “One day, he went again into the woods and he found a box with a baby hawk inside. Hawks were precious in the country he lived in. Only kings and royalty owned hawks and there are only a few of them left in that land. They could fetch many pieces of gold in the market. He guessed the box must have fallen off the horse of a hawk merchant. There was nothing to be done, but to take the hawk home. The hawk was nothing like the pigeon. It was wild, fierce, aloof, and almost reptilian in nature. It didn’t want to snuggle in his shirt. It was born to be a predator, so he began to train it to hunt.
“He would hold a dead rat in his hand, and the hawk would fly towards him and land on his gloved hand. Then one day, the leather contraption that was attached to the hawk broke, and the hawk soared away towards the tall trees at the edge of the woods. He knew he had to get the hawk back down quickly, or it would fly away and eventually get tangled in a tree branch. Hanging upside down it will starve to death. He called to it and showed it a dead rat, but it refused to come to him. A storm was brewing. Big drops of rain had already started to fall. He was desperate. He needed to do something to bring the hawk back.”
His voice has dropped to a whisper and I lean forward to hear. Something about the story makes the hairs on my hand stand. I know it's not just any story.
“An idea hit him. It was a brutal idea, but he was desperate. He didn’t know what else to do. He ran into his house, took his pigeon from its cage, and went back out into the storm. He held it up high over his head and called to his hawk, but it wouldn’t come. Tears began to pour down his face. He lowered the pigeon down. It was wet and bedraggled, and looked at him with an uncomprehending look. He stroked his finger along his throat. He knew it couldn’t fly, but he could throw it into the air, and the frantic flapping of its wings would surely be irresistible to the predator instinct of the hawk. He would fly towards it and tear the pigeon to bloody pieces. At that moment he would be able to recapture the hawk. The pigeon would of course be killed. It was a terrible sacrifice, because he loved the pigeon, you see. It was his only companion. But anybody at all would have made the same decision. The hawk was precious, rare, and worth so many pieces of gold. He could always buy or find another pigeon.”
Rocco rakes his fingers through his hair. “The pigeon gazed at him with its dear, innocent, round eyes. It couldn’t understand why he had brought it out into the rain. It couldn’t understand why he clutched it so hard. Tears came into his eyes. He had loved it with all his heart all its life. It was impossible to explain to anyone else how he felt. Yet, no one could blame him. Without him, it would have died long ago. He remembered the day he had found it, how tiny and helpless it had been. Then he remembered its adorable habit of gently rubbing its beak against his nose. It loved him. It was a soft and gentle creature. It ate directly from his palm. Not the hawk. The hawk was a proud thing. It would never concede even to be his friend. Let alone love him. He closed his eyes for a second. In that second he made up his mind.”
I throw the silky sheet off me, clamber off the bed, and run to kneel next to him. I put my hand over his mouth, and beg, “Don’t tell me anymore.”
He stares at me, his eyes as inconsolable as I had imagined the man who had the terrible decision to make.
He takes my hand off his mouth. “I have to tell you, Autumn,” he whispers brokenly. “You have to know what you are getting into.”
“I know. I know. There are too many unanswered questions around you, your family, and those people at the party, but not tonight. Tonight is for me. You see, I already know that what you have to tell me will mean I have to walk away from you, but just tonight, I want to have you. I want you, Rocco Rossetti. Tonight, make me yours.”
“Are you sure?”
“I have never been more sure of anything else in my life.” I smile. “I’ve got two condoms.”
He closes his eyes. “Oh, Autumn. You are so pure.” He opens his eyes. “I dread the day you begin to hate me.”
I lay my hand on his smooth cheek. “No matter what I will never hate you. Maybe I won’t be able to be with you, but I will never hate you.”
He looks so deeply into my eyes, it is as if he is looking into my very soul, and cherishes me beyond all else. But I can’t understand it. How can that be the case when he knows so little about me?
“Don’t say that yet,” he whispers. “If I start to believe that it will make me very sad if you start to hate me.”
“I won’t hate you,” I insist fiercely. “No matter what you tell me, I won’t hate you.”
His lips are inches away. So close. “Let me tell you everything now, Autumn. It’s the right thing to do… before you give your body to me.”
My heart pitter-patters in my chest, but my voice is sure and firm. It is neither colored nor muddled by alcohol. This is what I want. “You will tell me when we get back to Hunter’s Cross, and I will find a way to walk away from you. I can do it because I’ve always known you do not belong to me. You are too beautiful, too exotic, too special, too mysterious, but just tonight I want to pretend you’re mine. Now, kiss me Count Rocco Rossetti.”
Chapter 42
Autumn
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4vKsSGyQf-M
-Wicked Game-
His powerful hands suddenly shoot out to grip my arms and roughly pull me to him. A shocked gasp flies out of my mouth. He swallows it as he crushes his lips hungrily against mine. His kiss is wild, ferocious, and triumphant. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought it to be a declaration of possession. A man claiming his woman. Whatever it is, it is nothing like the previous occasion our lips met. Vaguely, somewhere in my head, flashes of the realization that he must have been holding himself back the last time.
This, this is the real him.
His scent, earth and morning dew, fills my senses, intoxicating me. As the kiss deepens, his taste begins to filter into me. He is delicious. It pushes away all my confused thoughts about him and makes me feel as if I am lost in a sweet dream. The edges become hazy, as if I am in a fog. But this is real, I tell myself. And yet it seems fantastical, unreal. Even my body feels like warm butter. Fluid and boneless.
With my eyes clenched shut I swing my arms around him. I’m determined to have my fill before I lose him forever. We are wrapped in a cocoon of dangerous attraction and molten lust. He slips his tongue into my mouth. It is like being zapped by a bolt of electricity. My whole body starts humming as dormant desires wake up and an insistent throbbing begins between my legs.
Blindly, I suck on his tongue.
It takes me to another plane of bliss and intimacy. The barrage of emotions and sensations are overwhelming and I was actually frighteningly dizzy. I feel as if I’m close to passing out.
Suddenly, a low growl comes from deep inside him, and he grabs my hands, pulls them away from around his neck, and holds me still. Very, very still, and for a moment, not quite fear, but an instinct for self-preservation rises inside me, warning me.
“What is it?” I whisper, staring up at him. In the moonlight his pale skin seems to glow.
His haunting eyes lock with mine, and I’m unable to look away. I’m mesmerized by them. There is something dangerous in there. The naked girl with the leather anklet flashes into my mind. She should have run. I know that, but it was too late for her, as
it is for me. I’m bewitched by his glittering eyes. Instead of fleeing from him, desperately I try to press myself against him.
My body writhes uselessly inside his steely hold.
His fingertip touches my bottom lip and I feel myself go numb. Gently he pulls it away from my teeth. His finger feels chilled and I shiver and instinctively lick my lips. I taste his finger. A trace of champagne from earlier, and something else. Something intriguing. I feel a type of intoxication move over my mind and body. It confuses and disorientates me. It is like I’m a prisoner in my own body, watching from within. I see my body arch languorously, sensuously, invitingly… there is only one thought in my head. I want him to have it all. All of me.
But he leans forward and whispers, “Do not give in, Autumn. Wake up.”
And the spell is suddenly broken. I stare at him, with widened eyes. “What happened to me?”
“You just wanted me too much,” he murmurs, as he starts to undress me. His movements are sure, confident, and quick. He dispatches my bra effortlessly, and pulls my panties off my legs. It is clear he has done this many, many times. A prick of jealousy makes a small sound escape from my throat.
He stills. “I won’t hurt you.”
I stare at him mutely. Inside, I am shaking like a leaf.
He lifts my naked body up into his arms like it weighs no more than a fly, and carries me towards the big bed. He deposits me on it and stands looking down at me. The moonlight is no longer on his face, and I cannot see his expression or his eyes. But I can tell that his shoulders are tense, his whole body is tense. I can feel the tightly coiled power radiating from him.
My nipples throb painfully. They are crying out for release.
Then he bends from the waist and I feel his palm rest on my stomach and his skin doesn’t feel cold the way his finger did when he touched me in my dream state, instead it sears into me. I clench my teeth with anticipation. He doesn’t stroke, or squeeze, just lets his hand remain there, owning the flesh under it. Slowly, he moves it up until it comes to a rest, cupping my breast. Again, he lays his claim.
The Other Side Of Midnight Page 15
