Another day another 76 euro cents…
Mina dragged an expensive silver-backed hairbrush through her curls and sighed at the staticky mess it made of her hair. It was like everything since she got to Italy-beautiful, expensive, and utterly frustrating.
That wasn’t absolutely accurate. It wasn’t as if things were meant to fail, she just hadn’t been able to make them work. So, at least part of that had to be her, right?
She never thought she’d miss Miami. Or her little office. Or Ivy’s constant nagging. But… she did. Now that the sheer stupefaction of being swept off her feet and flown to Italy had worn off, she couldn’t ignore it.
She was well and truly homesick.
Two more days, though, and she and Marco would be heading back. Yesterday the last of Mamma Genovese’s objections had been overruled, with Giovanni coming to Mina’s rescue-more than once pleasantly enough-and today Mina had finally been able to complete her arrangements for the collezione. Ruffled feathers had been smoothed, papers had been signed, and if her bottom was a little bruised from the numerous pinches and pats she’d received from every man in the Genovese compound, well that was a small price to pay.
All she had to do was get through tonight.
And all Hercules had to do was 12 little errands for his boss. Another vicious swipe of the brush and she gave up the struggle to smooth her hair. It wasn’t fair. The weather had been wonderful the whole time she’d been in Italy, but the absence of Miami’s constant humidity wreaked a special kind of havoc on her curls, and tonight-of all nights-she wanted to look her best. The Villa Genovese was en fete and the family was opening its doors to welcome friends and business associates alike. Unfortunately, they were Marco’s friends and business associates, and once again she was just arm candy there to make a man look good.
Like he needs help to look any better. Mina let out an unladylike snort. Unlike me.
“Are you sure this dress is okay?” On their arrival in Italy Marco had taken her shopping. He insisted that since his business required his attendance at several social events, and he required that she attend with him, it was only fitting that he assume the responsibility of providing appropriate evening wear. Somehow “evening wear” had expanded into almost an entirely new wardrobe, but Mina was so stunned by the beautiful Italian fashions that she couldn’t bring herself to refuse. So, in addition to the troublesome bikini from yesterday, he’d insisted on purchasing a long, halter-style dress in the same cobalt blue, so dark it was almost purple. Marco claimed it matched her eyes, and against it her skin looked luminescent. Intellectually, Mina knew it suited her better than anything she’d ever worn in her life. Unfortunately the plunging back offset the high-cut front and instead of feeling beautiful, she couldn’t stop fretting over the amount of skin she was exposing. Again.
She fussed and fretted, turning to get a better look at what felt like acres of exposed back. A shadow moved behind her and she shivered as fingers ghosted down her spine
“You look beautiful.” Marco dropped a kiss on her bare shoulder and she watched him in the mirror. His eyes were dark and his hands gripped her tightly, long fingers hot against her bare skin. They were the first thing she’d noticed about him and they still fascinated her. In an almost Pavlovian response, she felt her breathing hitch, desire for him coiling in her belly, and it frustrated her. This was not the time. She was annoyed, dammit!
“I don’t care about beautiful,” she grumbled, “I just want to make sure your mother doesn’t think I look like some sort of… floozy.”
The fingers stopped in their silent exploration and Marco met her eyes in the mirror.
“I am not familiar with this word, floozy, but from your tone I assume it is not a good thing?” He cocked an eyebrow at her and she let out a huff of air.
“No, it is not a good thing.” She frowned at her reflection, tugging at the edges of her dress again. “You know… a floozy. A bimbo.” She saw Marco smile behind her and turned on him, frustration flaring into anger and zeroing in on the nearest target. “A whore. Maybe you’re familiar with that concept.”
The smile on Marco’s face faded and his eyes hardened. Mina realized she’d pushed too hard and would have stepped back, but he still had a grip on her shoulders, unwilling to let her retreat. “Yes. I am familiar with that concept, as you put it. And no, regardless of how you might feel about your situation here, I do not think of you that way. In addition, my mother knows I respect her too much to bring such a creature to this house and she would never assume that you were a whore, no matter how you dressed.”
Regret washed over her. Marco was right; it was her insecurity that was coloring her feelings, not his actions, or his mother’s. Even if she obviously didn’t like her, Signora Genovese had never been anything but polite to her.
At least not in any language she could understand.
“I’m sorry.” She sighed deeply and raised a hand, resting it on Marco’s sleeve. “That was totally out of line. I’m nervous and it’s making me a bitch.”
Mina watched Marco’s face and was relieved to see some of the hardness fade from it. She could imagine the wheels turning behind his eyes and wondered just what he was thinking.
“You should not say such things about yourself,” he said. His voice was mild but Mina knew he was serious. No one got away with talking that way about someone he cared about. Not even if it was about themselves.
“I’ll stop saying it when it stops being true.” She straightened her shoulders and looked him in the eye, daring him to argue. “I realized this afternoon at the museum that I’d been letting things get to me. I mean, I knew coming here was going to be awkward, but I didn’t realize how much it was going to bother me.”
Hardness crept back to the edges of Marco’s face and Mina felt his hands still on her shoulders. “How much what was going to bother you?”
She couldn’t think of a way to explain-the homesickness, the fear that people thought the only reason she got the collection was because she was sleeping with him, the hurt she felt from being closed out by his mother… even how the time they spent together was limited by her work with the collection and his work’s demands. It all bothered her.
“Yesterday when I was talking to Giovanni…” Her voice trailed off and she couldn’t find the words to explain without sounding like a baby. “Oh just forget it,” she said, her eyes dropping from his. “It isn’t important.” She turned back to the mirror and reached up to straighten an earring. Marco was staring at her reflection, his eyes dark, the sharp edges of his cheekbones casting dramatic shadows on his face.
“It is important. You are not happy.” It wasn’t a question and Mina didn’t answer. It wouldn’t have made any difference. “I want you to be happy.”
Marco slid his hands down to rest on her hips possessively, and Mina felt the heat of his touch through the fabric.
“I can make you happy.” His voice dropped an octave, and Mina felt it resonate in her bones.
It was amazing, this response. Never in her life had anyone been able to make her feel-truly feel-the way Marco did. It was as if every nerve in her body was electrified; her skin, her eyes, her ears… they were all hardwired into some previously unknown sexuality that he had awakened with his kiss like some carnal Sleeping Beauty. She struggled for breath, not because he was holding her too tightly, but because it felt so right. It took her breath away.
Marco pressed himself against her, the studs of his shirt shockingly cold against her overheated skin, and she fought to regain control of the situation.
“I am very happy,” she said, but Marco wasn’t listening. His hands had moved, and he wrapped strong arms around her, one above her breasts and the other below, his breath warm and soft in her ear.
“You say that, but there’s a wrinkle between your eyes,” his voice was deceptively gentle, and as he went on his arms tightened, “and I can feel the tension in your body.”
Mina tilted her head back, watching their reflection in the long mirror. Blonde curls cascaded down her back in wild disarray, and her eyes reflected the deep blue of her dress. A dark hand had crept upwards, wrapping lightly around the long column of her throat, feeling her pulse as it pounded there at its base, as the other splayed down over her stomach, pressing her ever more tightly against him.
“I don’t think,” she started, but he cut her off, his voice dark and full of promise.
“Good. Don’t.” Marco’s mouth dropped to where his hand had been just before, savoring the fluttering of her heartbeat against his lips. “Feel. This isn’t something you can plan or organize.” He nipped at her earlobe and she arched back further into his arms, her breath a faint hiss in the quiet room. “This is just you, and me, and how I can make you shiver and sigh with pleasure. It’s about letting yourself lose control until all you can do is clutch at my arms and scream my name.”
Her glossily manicured nails did just that-digging into the silk of his shirt and holding him tightly, as if she was afraid he’d disappear if she let him go.
“Marco,” his name came out more breathily than she wanted and he nodded to her in the mirror, “Please.”
“Yes, Mina mia,” he said. “I please.” His eyes were hot and he looked almost feral. Her insides liquefied at the predatory tone in his voice, and she stiffened for an instant in his hands, the power he had over her both terrifying and tempting. Temptation quickly won out, though, and she squirmed as the newly familiar heat spread through her body melting her resistance like a snowflake in a furnace.
Marco’s teeth scraped along the tender tendon below her ear, and she unconsciously shifted when she felt the hooks holding the halter of her dress closed at the nape of her neck loosen. The movement allowed the shimmering fabric to slip down her front and catch at her waist before falling the rest of the way to the floor, and she was shocked at the sudden eroticism of her naked image in the mirror.
Her face was flushed and the color extended down her chest, her nipples a shade darker than what tinged her cheeks. Her eyes were glazed with desire and Marco’s never left hers, even as his hands explored her newly exposed skin.
“So beautiful,” he growled, cupping her breasts firmly, catching their rosy tips between those long fingers she loved. Overcome with desire, Mina pushed her ass back and rolled her hips against him in a movement that was so unlike her that she couldn’t help but blush even hotter. Marco groaned and the next thing she knew he’d spun her in his arms and was kissing her.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss; it was possession and plunder and pure passion. His tongue plunged between her lips, and then pulled back again, drawing her into his mouth, over and over until they were both gasping for air. Mina buried her fingers in his hair, tugging him closer, moaning deeply in her throat at the sensations racing through her.
Marco abandoned her lips and bent his head hungrily to capture a rigid nipple, swiping his tongue over the puckered tip, sucking on it gently for a moment before releasing it, only to skim across her chest to repeat the actions with its twin.
Mina was clinging to his shoulders, trying to hold herself upright as he ravished her breasts, pulling ineffectually at the cloth covering them. She was desperate to feel his skin against hers, and a growl of her own escaped her, shocking both of them, as she attacked the buttons of his shirt, pushing the fine fabric down his arms so she could nip and suck at his skin.
Her hands skimmed lower finding the buckle of his belt, working feverishly to open his trousers.
“Need you.” Her voice was harsh with hunger and she heard him let out a rough laugh as he shoved the last lacy scrap of fabric covering her out of the way, wetness smearing along her thigh as her panties were shoved to the floor.
“You need me?” He asked, hands slipping around to cup her bottom possessively. Mina wrapped her legs around his hips and buried her face in his neck.
“Ye-e-ss,” she groaned, rubbing her soaking wet slit against him. “Need you now.” She punctuated her demand with a sharp nip at his neck and Marco sucked a hissing breath through his teeth.
“You little hellcat,” he sounded almost proud and she arched her back to press her naked breasts more firmly against him.
“If I am,” she said, her own eyes dark and demanding, “you made me this way.”
It was true. She’d never been like this before. Never felt this way before.
Marco rose to her challenge shifting his weight and turning with her in his arms until he could drop both of them on the king sized bed behind them.
The impact knocked the breath out of her and Mina let out a little yelp of surprise as she found herself splayed out across the mattress. The cool cotton sheets felt icy against her overheated skin, and she hissed at the sensation. Marco took advantage of her distraction and slotted himself between her legs, pressing against her dripping core.
“This is what you want.” He dipped the head of his cock between her pussy lips, his way made easy by the font of wetness there. Again and again he teased, pushing forward an inch or two and then retreating, until she was squirming beneath him, begging for more.
“Yes! That’s what I want. You’re what I want.” She knew how desperate she sounded, but didn’t care. She wanted him-this part of him, and every other-and while it was hard to admit sometimes, passion always stripped away her fear and only left her longing.
A sound of masculine satisfaction echoed in her ear and Mina dug her high heeled sandals into the back of Marco’s leg, encouraging him to give her more, deeper, faster.
Marco set his own pace, though, her slickness allowing him to slide almost frictionlessly into her, the slow pistoning of his hips driving her closer and closer to the edge.
“You say that, but I sometimes wonder,” he murmured, speeding up his movements. “I’ve sensed,” he rotated his hips and hit that magic spot inside her, dragging a groan from her, “reluctance in you lately.”
This is reluctance? The thought brought a hysterical bubble of laughter to Mina’s throat. She’d never given this much of herself to Ethan-to anyone. It was so new and different that the strength of her feelings still frightened her. And he wants more?
Conscious thoughts were driven from her head as Marco demanded all of her attention, snapping his hips forward quickly, fucking her hard and deep. He wanted everything from her and he was taking what he wanted.
“Is that funny?” His voice was low and raspy with some unfathomable emotion, and he plunged so deeply into her that Mina moaned under the onslaught. “Maybe I should stop. Maybe you want to leave. Go back to Miami.” Each sentence was punctuated with a slow thrust of his hips, his cock so deep she couldn’t imagine the emptiness she’d feel if he stopped.
Her eyes opened and she searched for his, trying to focus on him through her pleasure induced haze. Golden light streamed across the bed, but it cast Marco’s face into shadow, and she shivered under him. Sometimes it was hard for her to forget how dangerous he was-to her life and her heart-but it was rarely this close to the surface. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Marco watched her, his movements slowing to a cruel crawl. His possession was just as thorough, but the pace felt like a careful insult.
“Imagine my surprise this afternoon,” he said, eyes burning in the darkness, “when my brother,” he pushed even deeper, “took me to task for not attending to… your… needs.”
Mina tried to follow the conversation, but it was hard to separate thought from sensation. His brother? Giovanni?
“I don’t understand.” Mina licked dry lips and tried to concentrate. “What does Giovanni have to do with anything?”
The moment she said Giovanni, Marco’s control snapped. The careful pace he’d set was blown away as whatever devil was driving him lashed him into a frenzy.
“Exactly,” he said, “what does he have to do with anything?” He grabbed her wrists and held them over her head, pinning them with one huge hand. The other hand found a nipple, tugging and tweaking it until it was an angry rose. Each movement sent a current through her until she was arching up off the bed into him, her body bowed in pleasure.
“You’re mine, Mina,” he growled as he pulled her forward, his breath hot in her ear. “Your needs are my concern, no one else’s-not Ethan’s and certainly not Giovanni’s.”
Possessiveness and anger laced the words, and understanding crashed through Mina like lightning. My God!He’s jealous! But the thought barely had time to register before she found herself swept up in Marco’s arms. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing, arms wrapped around her tightly as he raised their joined bodies, kneeling beneath her, his cock buried as deeply as possible inside her. He covered her in biting kisses, from her lips to her nipples, never releasing his grip.
“Tell me,” he demanded, her nipple slipping from his mouth with a wet pop, “tell me that you belong to me, only me, Mina mia.”
An insistent finger found the spot where their bodies were joined and she whimpered as he pressed on the little knob of nerves there. Mina felt the callous on his finger rubbing against her sensitive skin, each rasp pushing her higher until she felt she must throw herself out into space or plunge into the abyss.
A tiny voice in her head wailed that it wasn’t fair, that he was using the responses of her body to force an answer, but it was drowned by a chorus of “yes, yours, please, please, please.” She knew she needed him, and now she knew he needed her-even if just for a moment. It was enough.
She leaned into his embrace, wrapping her legs around his hips, snugging herself even more tightly against him. Her heels caught in the expensive duvet and she groaned as he continued to rub her clit with the hand she’d trapped between them.
Resting her forehead against his she wrapped her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes. The anger that had flared there so recently was gone; Mina hoped it was gone for good.
“I don’t want you to stop.” She shifted, rolling her hips a little to show him what she wanted. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want Miami, or Ethan, or Gio-fucking-vanni.” She let her own anger move her as she gripped his shoulders and levered herself against him, rising and falling on his still rigid cock.
“All I want,” she forced the words out even ask she felt her orgasm bearing down on her like a freight train, “is you.”
Marco’s hands were on her ass, guiding her up and down in the motion they both needed. Mina’s fingers left bloody little half-moons where her nails dug into his shoulders but Marco continued to fuck her through the tight-fisted sucking of her cunt around him, stroking into her relentlessly until she keened through a second orgasm.
Her orgasm pulled him over the edge with her. He flipped them over and pounded into her, his rhythm becoming more and more erratic as he approached his own climax. Words spilled from his lips, a jumble where “mine” was the only word Mina could recognize in a litany of Italian, as Marco came deep inside her, his body throbbing and jerking in release.
Heavy in completion, he pinned her to the bed and Mina stroked a shaking hand down his back as they caught their breath. She looked down at the back of the dark head lying on her breasts and knew that nothing was ever going to be the same.
“I am sorry.” Marco’s voice was muffled against her skin and she sighed.
“You should be.” There wasn’t any venom in her voice, but she wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily. She’d done nothing to make him think she was paying attention to anyone but him. Hell, she’d put up with his mother, and with the male chauvinist dominated Italian culture without complaining-he shouldn’t doubt her so easily.
Marco pulled back, his eyes taking in her body as it lay before him. Her legs were still splayed wide, their mixed fluids smeared across them. Her breasts were pink, rasped raw by the faint stubble on his cheeks, but her eyes were bright and full of questions, but free of accusations.
He was a lucky man.
“Are you going to explain what that was all about?” Mina pulled herself gingerly to the edge of the bed trying to make sure she didn’t trip herself by getting tangled in the bedclothes. She stood on unsteady legs, grimacing as wetness dripped down her legs. “I need another shower.”
Marco stood quickly, holding her tightly against him. “No.” He kissed the line of her shoulder, before turning her face and dropping a tender kiss on her lips. “I love seeing you like this. Seeing the evidence of our lovemaking on your body.” His eyes darkened again as he dragged a hand up from her hip, sliding up her side, cupping her still swollen breast. “Stay like this.” He kissed her more intently. “For me. Please.”
The “please” was her undoing. She shook her head, disconcerted by both his demand and at her impulse to comply.
“I have to clean up a little,” she said finally, only willing to go so far to fulfill Marco’s need to mark his territory. “I’m not going to make a spectacle of myself in front of everyone tonight.” Especially your mother, she thought with a mental eyeroll.
Unembarrassed by his nakedness, Marco led her through to the en suite bath and leaned her gently against the vanity. Standing there silently, Mina watched as he wet a cloth with warm water and wrung it out before lifting her leg and rubbing it along her skin, wiping away the most noticeable evidence of their lovemaking. She watched the muscles flex and move under his skin, his naked body a thing of beauty, and she wondered at her own lack of embarrassment as he washed the traces of his come from her thighs.
“No one else will know,” he said, his voice so low it was hard for her to catch it. “But every time I see you dance with another man, I’ll know that your pussy is still filled with my come, and every time you feel the wetness you’ll remember that no one makes you feel the way I do. No one.” A final swipe of the now cool cloth against her still swollen labia sent a new round of shudders through her and Marco smiled at her response.
“So beautiful. So responsive.” He pulled her into his arms and she melted against him, her nipples hard against his bare chest, her breathing staccato in the quiet room. “And all mine.”
There was no point in arguing. “Yes. All yours.”
Marco swept her up into his arms and carried her back to the long mirror. Efficient movements had him dressed in moments before he turned to help her into her dress. Her underwear were past salvaging and when she opened a drawer to pull out a new pair Marco stopped her.
“You won’t need them,” he said. Kneeling beside her he carefully lifted one high-heeled foot slipping her dress over it, followed by the other. A shake and twist and she was covered again, the collar hooks fixed and her hair smoothed, her dress surprisingly undamaged by their abuse of it. She looked at herself in the long mirror, sensory overload making her feel slightly dazed. Her earlier concern about her exposed back now seemed ridiculous. She was naked except for a layer of cobalt silk, her nipples hard, her pussy soaked-who was going to care about a her bare back?
She was still in a fog, allowing Marco to tend to her, when an insistent knocking jerked her back to reality.
“What’s keeping you two…?” A friendly voice accompanied the knock, the bedroom door swinging open suddenly. Giovanni Genovese took one look at the pair of them and immediately stepped back into the hall.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, eyes flitting from Marco’s stiffening shoulders to Mina’s wide eyes and kiss swollen lips. His gaze traveled further, taking her unsteady stance, and flickering over the wildly mussed sheets on the king sized bed. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
Marco put himself between Mina and his brother’s gaze, a low rumble in his chest the only warning necessary. Giovanni raised a hand to calm him and shook his head.
“Do not blame the messenger,” he pointed to himself, “but Mamma sent me to remind you that you have guests arriving and that since she is not your wife,” his eyes flickered to Mina over Marco’s shoulder, “it is not her job to entertain your clients.”
Marco allowed his stance to relax and nodded once at his little brother. “Thank you, Gio.” He shook his head once as if to clear it. “It seems I have lost track of time. Tell Mamma I apologize for the delay and that we’ll be right down.”
Something passed between the brothers that Mina didn’t understand, but finally Giovanni nodded. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll greet your guests.” He nodded in Mina’s direction. “You take whatever time you need. Mamma can wait.” Suddenly he winked and gave the smile Mina remembered. “It will probably be good for her.”
Marco returned the smile, if a little less enthusiastically. “Yes, but I doubt it will be good for me.”
“Oh I know it won’t be good for you,” the grin widened. “But then again, you always were her favorite. She might forgive you. In a year or two.” He shut the door, his laughter fading as he headed down the hall.
“It’s me she’s going to blame,” Mina said quietly, stepping away from Marco’s protective position. “She’s never going to like me.”
“Don’t be so certain.” Marco slipped his tie around his neck and quickly knotted it, every movement elegant and efficient. “She told me yesterday that she was amazed that you’d put up with me for so long.”
Mina doubted that was the extent of the comment, but she didn’t push. She leaned forward and tried to smooth her curls into some sort of order that didn’t scream “just fucked,” and sighed.
It was going to be a long night.
Marco’s mother lied.
When Mina and Marco finally made their way into the large salon, cocktails were being served and Bianca Genovese was expertly handling the influx of guests, air-kissing some and embracing others, every inch the hostess she denied being.
She cast a gimlet eye over her elder offspring and turned away without acknowledging him, tilting her head to catch something being said to her by a handsome man who looked like he’d like to get to know her much better. She laughed and it was a rolling, sensual sound, causing Mina to look twice. That wasn’t a sound she expected from the rigid woman she’d encountered all week.
The crowd was larger than Mina had expected. Marco said it would be a few investors and some local businessmen he’d convinced to support a new resort and spa he was building in the foothills just north of the city. Golf wasn’t the passion here that it was in the States, and he’d already pared his plans down some, but this evening’s festivities were to celebrate the finalization of plans that he’d been working towards for almost a year.
Business was business the world over, but this Genovese business party put anything that Mina had ever experienced to shame. She recognized a few people milling about-Marco, and Giovanni, and their mother of course. She saw Signora Genovese’s personal secretary, Elena, standing guard behind her employer, ready to swing into action at a moment’s notice in case someone was going to die due to a lack of dictation. Marco’s secretary, a beautiful silver-haired woman named Cinzia DiPaolo, was there as well, but instead of hovering she was mingling and smiling, greeting each guest as if they were personal friends.
Hell, maybe they were personal friends.
Mina took a glass of sparkling wine from a passing waiter and tried to find a quiet corner to hide in. It wasn’t that she wanted to hide, but there was a limit to how many times she could say, “Mi dispiace, non parlo italiano” before she wanted to beat someone over the head with an English to Italian dictionary. To top it off, she’d used up most of her patience dealing with the team of movers Marco had brought in to pack the largest pieces of the collection for shipping back to Miami. She’d been prepared for their “hands on” approach to women-something she was told was a normal occurrence in Italy, especially for a blonde American woman-but she wasn’t prepared for the sly looks and the elbowing and laughter that happened every time Marco’s name came up. The last thing she wanted was an evening full of suggestive comments and knowing looks, even if she was going commando.
“It seems that every time I see you, you seem,” a familiar voice cut through the party chatter, “preoccupied.”
Giovanni stepped around a pillar and smiled.
Mina jumped, her reflex sending a spray of wine into the air. She tried to move to avoid it, but it was no use-her beautiful blue dress was now a la spumante.
“Don’t do that,” she said, searching fruitlessly for a way to clean up the mess. Giovanni laughed and waved his hand at one of the waiters and instantly there was a cloth, a person wielding it, and a new glass of wine to replace the one that had died so ignominiously.
“Don’t do what, Dottoressa?” His eyes sparkled and Mina glared at him half-heartedly, but there wasn’t any real venom in it.
“Well, don’t sneak up on me and scare the wits out of me, for starters,” she said, frowning over the dark splotches on her dress. “And don’t call me Dottoressa.” She held her wine glass up, stopping any argument. “No-I told you before: I didn’t go to University here, so Italian rules don’t apply. No titles, no honorifics… I’m just plain old Mina Hemingway, thank you very much.”
All week she’d felt like a fraud when people assumed that since she was handling the exhibit for the museum she must have degrees out the wazoo. Why else would she be given such an honor?
Why else, indeed?
Mina sighed and shook her head. It wasn’t like she asked for this-this was all Marco’s doing. Let them tell him his choice for Curator was wrong. She was right out of it.
“It isn’t an insult you know.” Mina’s mental calisthenics jerked to a stop. “The title, I mean. People recognize that you’re a scholar-a very beautiful scholar, but a scholar, nevertheless.” Giovanni’s tone surprised her. She’d never heard him so serious, but he just didn’t understand.
“It isn’t something you just see in people,” she said. “I mean, it isn’t like I have anthropologist tattooed across my forehead.”
Maybe I should try that, she thought. At least it would be better than Marco’s Mistress.
“No,” Giovanni agreed, “you don’t. You have curiosity in your eyes, and intelligence in your questions. You have care in your hands and passion in your heart.” He turned to face her square on. “No one watching you handling the artifacts could mistake it.” He paused. “I could tell as soon as I met you-there you were in the Italian sun, wearing a bikini and a frown, practically drowning in diagrams and reports. Only someone who loved it would do that.”
Mina laughed. “You sound like you have some experience with it-have you dated many Dottoressas in your day?”
He paused and looked at her, a corner of his mouth finally quirking into a little smile. “You might say that.” He grinned down at her, the seriousness gone. “But none of them looked quite like you do in a bathing suit.”
They stood laughing together for a moment, until a wave of motion caught their attention.
“I thought you said your mother wasn’t going to play hostess.” Mina murmured under her breath as she watched the Genovese matriarch glide across the parquet floor towards them. She took a quick sip of wine to fortify herself, and shifted a little uncomfortably, hoping the bland expression on the older woman’s face was an accurate indicator of her bellicosity.
“Mamma always plays hostess,” Giovanni answered, turning slowly to greet his mother, his arm under Mina’s elbow. “She was simply sending Marco a message, just not that one, in particular.”
I’ll bet she was, Mina thought, a pretty, counterfeit smile pinned to her face. Something along the lines of “cross me and die.”
“Here you are, Giovanni.” Bianca let her eyes drift over the two of them, lingering where his arm wrapped around Mina’s. “It seems, Signorina Hemingway, that you have managed to catch the attention of both of my sons. You must tell me how you do it,” she stared at her son for a moment before turning dark eyes on Mina, “I cannot seem to keep either of them in line.” Her tone made it clear that she didn’t approve of either of their interest in her, but that wasn’t anything new. Giovanni wasn’t happy with her tone though.
“Mamma…” Giovanni began, but Mina squeezed his arm. He looked at her for a second and nodded, allowing Mina to handle the situation herself.
“They are both credits to your parenting skills,” she said finally, her tone careful but not too deferential. “They have been very kind to me as both a foreigner and a guest.”
Unlike some people I could name….
“They are good boys,” Bianca nodded. “Usually.” A glimmer of satisfaction shone in her eyes for a moment before drifting down over Mina’s dress, landing on the still dark wine spots splattering the skirt. “Have you been conducting one of your experiments again, mio figlio?” She raised an enquiring eyebrow at Giovanni and he shook his head.
“No Mamma, no experiments, just an unfortunate accident. I managed to spill my drink earlier, but la dottoressa kindly forgave my clumsiness.”
Mina squeezed his arm again in thanks. It was bad enough to be a mess, but to be a klutz who couldn’t keep her own drink under control? Well, she didn’t want to think what Mamma Genovese would say to that.
Dark eyes turned to her son. “That is what happens when you spend all your time locked up in one of those laboratories of yours. You forget how to behave like a civilized human being.”
Giovanni sighed dramatically, playing the joker again. “Mamma’s right-it’s a terrible sight. Physicists are so uncivilized. White coats askew, sniffing whiteboard markers, smashing particles left and right.”
Mina could tell it was an old argument, but Bianca wasn’t playing. She lifted her chin and sniffed delicately before turning her back on Giovanni.
“Since my son refuses to tend to his duties as host, please allow me to escort you to your rooms so that you can change.” She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow and took a less than complimentary look at Mina’s ruined dress. “With all of Marco’s guests here you wouldn’t want to look…” she paused a little too long before finishing, “underdressed.”
Two spots of color burned on Mina’s cheeks. “Yes, of course,” she untangled her arm from Giovanni’s, not meeting his gaze. She didn’t need his sympathy; she just needed to make her escape. “But there is no need for you to accompany me, Signora. I can take care of myself.” She gathered her skirt in her hands and nodded as gracefully as she could to the woman in front of her. “Perhaps we can continue our discussion after I’ve made repairs?” She stood straight and proud, refusing to look like she was running away even if she was. A little. “If it wouldn’t be an imposition, of course.”
Bianca gave her one last calculating look and nodded her agreement. “I look forward to your return.”
Strangely, Mina believed her. She watched the older woman walk away through the crowd, her back straight, her black hair shimmering with threads of silver, and felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Maybe there was a chance for her to be accepted after all.
Giovanni was strangely tense beside her, and she smiled at him impulsively. “Don’t worry-I’ll only be a minute. Will you still be around?” Mina was already casting through her mind for another suitable dress-with underwear this time-when he answered.
“Perhaps I should walk you upstairs.” A faint line appeared between his eyebrows and Mina thought how nice it was of him to be concerned for her.
“No, no… I can find my way. You could do me a favor, though.” She looked around the room, but couldn’t see Marco anywhere.
“Certainly. What can I do?”
“Let Marco know what happened.” She rolled her eyes a little at the necessity. Damn possessive Italian men. “I don’t want him to go looking for me and be angry that he can’t find me.”
Giovanni nodded once, understanding clear on his face. “I’ll make sure to let him know where you are if I see him.”
With another smile, she was off, wandering through the crowd of unfamiliar faces. She made it through the lounge and the hall, she ducked through a side door to avoid a rotund little man who smiled a little too broadly at her as she approached, and then, with a sigh of relief she realized she’d made her way around to the main entry hall. A flight of stairs and a dash down the hall and she would be home free.
“Tesoro mio,” a voice sounded behind her, coming from the door to Marco’s office, “perche non mi baci come prima?” The feminine voice was low, and throaty, and Mina shook her head in disbelief-there was no getting away from these Latin lovers. Had they no shame? It was Marco’s office for Pete’s sake, and some woman was in there talking about kisses.
What did it say about Italy that kisses was one of the few words she’d come to recognize?
She’d taken two steps up the stairs when a second voice sounded. Marco’s voice.
Marco’s voice? Mina stopped dead in her tracks, her head swinging back towards the office door.
The spate of Italian that fell into the hallway was way beyond her understanding, but there was no mistaking that voice. Mina crept back down the stairs and around the corner, approaching the open door. The woman was speaking again, her voice now a purr, Marco’s name clear amidst the foreign phrases.
One step, and then another, and Mina could see into the room. The leather bound books still lined the shelves, and the desk still dominated the room, but there was a disconnect somehow. She knew it was the same, but her mind wouldn’t accept it. She’d spent hours there over the past week, head bent over Marco’s desk with him, making plans, stealing kisses. The same kisses this woman was asking for.
Her head swam.
She forced herself to take another step towards the door. A beautiful woman-tall and elegant-dressed in amethyst silk, stood so closely to Marco that no light passed between them. Her auburn hair curled gently around her heart shaped face, framing topaz eyes.
Mina had never seen anyone so beautiful in her entire life.
She stood there in the doorway, time a concept that had no meaning, and watched the two of them. The strange woman had her hand on Marco’s arm, familiar and possessive, and Mina could hear her heart pounding in her ears as she watched that delicate hand caress the arm, and then the shoulder, of the man she’d come to think of as hers. She met the gleaming topaz eyes over Marco’s shoulder and watched as a feline grin crept across the beautiful face.
Mina must’ve made a sound because suddenly both sets of eyes turned to her, Marco’s widened in surprise and the woman’s narrowed in dislike. She leaned in to Marco’s body, pressing her curves against him, and he looked down at her, only to have her reach up and catch his lips in a kiss.
That was all it took. The spell that had fallen over Mina was broken, and Time crashed back into place. She lifted her skirts, turning and running back the way she’d come, back through the crowd, back into the lounge until she ran headlong into Giovanni’s broad back. She imagined that she heard Marco call her name, but she didn’t want to speak to him, to hear his excuses, she just wanted to get away.
“Gio,” Mina started to explain but the words failed her. She gazed up at him, desperation in her eyes. “I have to go. Something has,” she swallowed thickly, “well, something’s come up.”
A flash of concern crossed Giovanni’s face. He looked in the direction she’d come from and saw Marco and the redhead come into view. Mina grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the other door. “Please. I need to go. Now.” Understanding lit his face, and then morphed into something that looked uncomfortably like sympathy.
“Of course you do,” he said, without question. “What do you need me to do?”
Mina looked across the lounge and caught Bianca Genovese’s eye. She saw the satisfaction, brutal and clear, on her face and realized that she’d known Marco was with another woman when she’d sent Mina upstairs to change. It was a beautiful set-up-as elegant as the woman herself-but Mina couldn’t blame her for it. It only worked if Marco was already guilty.
She took an unsteady breath. What was she going to do? There was a commotion at the lounge door, she saw Marco standing there, larger than life and angry as the Devil himself. She met his eye across the crowded room and purposefully looked away, turning back to the man standing beside her.
“Do you think you could take me to a hotel?” Mina swayed. Her voice sounded miles away, and she squeezed her hands tightly together to fight off the dizziness that threatened to bring her down. Giovanni glanced back and forth between her and Marco, watching as his older brother strode across the floor, ignoring everyone in his path. He straightened and pushed Mina behind him, setting himself between her and the whirlwind, his face hard as he answered.
“I think I can manage something.”