Piece of Work

by Staci Hart

  “Close.” My hand appeared with a tiny sewing kit. “Safety pins.”

  She lit up, her cheeks flushed now from relief. “Grazie, signora. Oh, thank you.”

  I walked around to her back, and she straightened up, pulling the waistband to bring the zipper as close to closed as possible.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as I got to work. “For Dottore Bartolino. I tried to get your colleague a meeting, I really did, but he wouldn’t have it. He won’t give the statue to Dottore Lyons simply because he doesn’t want to. He might give it to you though, if you ask nicely.” A cynical chuckle escaped her.

  I frowned as I locked the first safety pin and reached for another. “Why would he give it to me? I’m just an intern.”

  “Ah, but he has a…thing for Asian girls.”

  My face bent in disgust. “Are you suggesting I—”

  “Oh no—quel maiale! He’s a disgusting pig, and I hope his cazzo rots and falls off.”

  A shocked laugh burst out of me, and I leaned out to gape at her in the mirror.

  She shrugged. “I hate him. I’d quit if I didn’t have the quello stronzo right where I want him.” Inspiration struck her, and she smiled. “You know, I think I know how you can get David.”

  My hands froze. “How?”

  “The same way I got a raise and Thursdays off. Blackmail.”

  I paused. “I’m listening.”

  “Well,” she started, her voice lowering, “have you ever heard of a hot lunch?”

  My face quirked. “Like in a cafeteria?”

  “No, it’s…” She collected her thoughts. “There’s a place here—a…bordello, a whore house; no one’s supposed to know about it, but everyone knows where it is. You can have all kinds of strange requests filled there, fetishes, and the dottore is a regular visitor. And he always orders a hot lunch.”

  “But what is it?”

  Her flush deepened against her olive skin as she lowered her voice even more. “It’s where the girl puts plastic on the man’s face and shits in his mouth.”

  I gasped, my face bent in revulsion as a little bile climbed up my esophagus. “Oh my God. Oh my God!”

  “I know!” she said, laughing with her nose wrinkled up. A shiver worked down her spine. “Ugh. Che porco. Che porco! Plays in shit, eats shit.” She flung her hand in disgust.

  “How did you find out?”

  She shrugged. “My Filipino roommate works there.”

  A surprised laugh shot out of me.

  “Tell him you know. About the bordello and the hot lunch. He’ll give you David if he thinks you’ll tell the board.”

  “I…I don’t know if I can do that. There has to be some other way. Money or…”

  She sighed. “He has money—what he wants is fame. And that statue is his pride. The only way he will give it to you is if you tell him you know his secret. You don’t have to follow through—the possibility is enough for that codardo.”

  Coward.

  I took a breath, wondering if I could pull it off. “Wait, won’t you get in trouble?”

  Another laugh, this one merry and carefree. “Oh no. Bartolino will keep his secret or die trying. He won’t fire me, or I’ll tell everyone myself and hopefully get a new boss. Say the word, and I promise you, you’ll get it, just like I got him to stop touching my ass.”

  And I filled up with a wild, irreverent stroke of bravado that I might be able to get us what we came for.

  19

  Just a Taste

  Court

  Bartolino and I glared at each other across his desk.

  “I told you, there is nothing you can offer me.”

  “And I told you, I don’t believe you,” I stated. “Name your price.”

  “This is not a negotiation.”

  I leaned forward in my chair, my head tilting as I assessed him. “You like to acquire, to hold. It gives you power, status, and if you lose that, you lose face. Sound about right?”

  His face reddened. “You know nothing about me. Americans—they’re all the same. You come here in your cheap suit with a stack of money and think you can have whatever you want. Well, you cannot have this. There is no price.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Power. Sex. Money. Love. Those are the things that motivate men. What else will give you the power you want?”

  The door to his office opened behind me, and I turned, annoyance flashing in my chest at the interruption, flaring into anger when I saw it was Rin. She and Bartolino’s assistant shared a subtle nod as Rin entered the room, the door closing behind her as she crossed the room, looking like Boudica prepared to face the Romans or the rack.

  Bartolino rose when she entered, smoothing his tie, his eyes on her, looking her over in a way that made my nerves stand at attention. “Ah, at least now I will have decent company. I’m afraid your colleague and I have exhausted our conversation.”

  “Oh, that’s a shame,” she said, and I caught an air of condescension in her tone.

  She knew something. Without her even meeting my eyes, I knew.

  I schooled my face as she sat, wondering what she’d do.

  “It is a shame,” Bartolino said as he took his seat after her. “Some people don’t know how to accept an answer they don’t want.”

  Rin laughed, a light, happy sound. “If I know Dottore Lyons at all, I know that to be true.” She crossed her long legs and sat back in her seat with casual grace. “But I have to ask, are you sure you won’t give us the statue? Is there really nothing we could offer?” The words held a suggestion that she was offering herself, a suggestion that sent a roaring Never through me.

  Bartolino wet his lips, his eyes hot coals. I allowed myself to imagine the pleasure of popping them from their sockets. “Ah, such a price is so high, I can’t fathom your pockets being so deep.”

  I gripped the arms of my chair, fighting the urge to reach across his desk and wrap my hands around his neck. She stayed me with a glance.

  Trust me, it said.

  And to my surprise, I did.

  “I’ve heard that you draw pleasure in some…unorthodox ways and places.”

  Bartolino froze, the heat in his eyes and expression doused and hissing.

  “I wonder…” she said, her eyes on her finger as it traced a circle on the leather pad of the armrest. I didn’t think he noticed she was shaking. “What would your board of directors say if they knew you had a taste for the occasional hot lunch?”

  The curator began to sputter unintelligibly.

  I blinked, my lips parting in surprise, curling in optimistic amusement as I watched her.

  “I mean, I’m not one to judge. Whatever gets you off, whether it’s a foot thing or an Asian thing. Or a defecation thing. But not everyone is so understanding. Isn’t the president of the board a devout Catholic? Is it his cousin who’s a bishop?” she asked me as if we’d discussed it, then snapped. “No, his brother. That’s right. Personally, I think it’s kind of prudish to dictate what people find erotic. Don’t you?”

  Bartolino’s face was the color of a steamed beet, shining and flat. “I can’t…you wouldn’t…I will fire Gianna this time, I swear it.”

  “So, I wanted to ask you one more time.” Rin hardened, leaning toward him. “Are you absolutely, unequivocally certain that you’re not willing to give us David?”

  His breath was a ragged, heaving draw and release of air, his eyes hard and blinking, his brows knitting together so tightly, they were nearly connected. And after a long moment, he finally answered.

  “I’ll get the donation form.”

  Bartolino turned to his desk for the form, and Rin and I shared a look of disbelief and absolute elation before his attention was on us again. I filled out that form with my heart chugging adrenaline and my hands slick while Rin texted our driver. The humming undercurrent in my mind was fixated on her, wondering over where the hell she’d gone, who the hell was sitting next to me, and how the hell I could keep her. Bartolino signed the contracts for the transfer,
assuring us that the donation would be enough to convince the board to let us have David.

  A half an hour later, Rin and I were walking out of the museum with silent smiles, tight with exertion from maintaining our decorum. Rin took my arm in a gesture that surprised me until I realized she was shaking, her heels unsteady and fingers clutching the hook of my elbow. And I took her weight as we exited the museum where the car waited. I opened her door, closing it when she was in, resisting the urge to jog around the car in my excitement. The second we were in together, we burst into laughter and noise and motion. She flew across the seat and into my arms.

  “We did it! Oh my God, we did it,” she said, her lips next to my ear and her arms flung around my neck.

  My hands wound around her waist and up her back, pulling her close, as I breathed her in. “You did it.”

  She stiffened in my arms and leaned away, but I didn’t let her go, only loosened my grip. “I…I’m sorry,” she whispered, her hands on my chest, her eyes on mine. “I shouldn’t have—”

  “Don’t apologize, Rin. You’ve done nothing wrong.” I hung on to her, and she opened her mouth as if to speak but said nothing. “It’s me who’s wrong. It’s me who’s sorry.”

  Her face softened, but a glimmer of pain passed across her brow, shifted behind her eyes. “Court—”

  “Just let me…let me say this,” I said, brushing her cheek with my knuckles, tucking her hair behind her ear, my fingertips tingling at the contact I’d been wishing for.

  She nodded once.

  “You were right. You’ve done nothing to deserve the way I’ve treated you. You’ve done nothing to betray my trust, and I’ve done everything to betray yours. And I’m sorry, Rin. I couldn’t stay away from you when I should have. I broke a vow to myself and punished you for it. But every rule, every line, everything I know to be right or wrong is blurred when it comes to you.”

  She took a breath to speak, but I headed her off, continuing, “I want you in ways I don’t understand and can’t control, and trust me, I’ve tried.” I searched the depths of her eyes. “I know I shouldn’t, but I do. And I’ve tried to ignore it, but I can’t.”

  Her hands still rested on my chest—I felt their weight like an anchor. “Am I…” She took a breath to steady herself. “Am I just sex to you?”

  “I don’t know what this is,” I said, my voice lowering, rumbling, my fingers curling into the nape of her neck, “but for weeks, I’ve been doing everything I can just to get you in the same room as me. To talk to you. To listen to you. It’s your mind I’m addicted to just as equally as your body.”

  “Then what do you mean when you say you want me?”

  My chest ached, the answer far beyond my reach. “I don’t know. I just know that I don’t want to stay away from you. But I’ve never…I don’t do this, Rin. I should be telling you to run, and you shouldn’t give me anything I want. I can’t guarantee you won’t regret it.”

  Her lips quirked in a smile. “Would my refusal really stop you?”

  “Eventually. Probably.”

  For a moment, she said nothing, just searched my face, my eyes. “Well then…let’s figure it out.”

  I started to protest, but she cut me off, “Let’s see what happens here, in Florence, and at the end of the trip, we’ll decide where we’re at. Because, for some reason, I’m stupid enough to want you too, even after how you’ve treated me. Make it up to me.”

  Could I do it? Could I let myself have a taste? Would a taste be enough?

  It’s just for Florence.

  I could hold up the wall. I could keep myself safe. I could let myself go for a few days—a few days wouldn’t matter. A few days wouldn’t change me. And I repeated that mantra on a loop in the vain attempt to will it into truth.

  A slow smile crept onto my lips. “Tell me to touch you, and I will.”

  And she smiled, the expression curling with wisps of relief and desire and joy. “Touch me,” she commanded with a whisper from crimson lips.

  And so, I did.

  My hands were everywhere. I kissed her like I’d been starved for her all my life, and I touched her like she’d ordered with hungry hands tilting her head to give me access to her mouth. My fingers in her hair, buried in the heavy locks. In the space between her blazer and blouse, in the bend of her waist, palming the curve of her breast, savoring the weight in my hand.

  We couldn’t get close enough, our torsos twisted and knees bumping. She mewled into my mouth, the sound triggering a succession of firing nerves from my lips to my cock. I hooked my hands in the bend of her knees to sling them across my lap, pulling her closer with a satisfied hum. But I never stopped kissing her, touching her, my fingertips roaming her body, committing every curve and line to my memory as I would a map to a cache of solid gold.

  Mine.

  She was mine, and the relief I felt at that procurement was beyond measure. And now, I would claim her, write my name on her body in ink she could never erase.

  The driver cleared his throat, and I let her go with a pop of our lips to glance in the rearview at the amused eyes of the man behind the wheel. I had no idea how long the car had been stopped, but I found myself smiling as I looked back to Rin, the wide, beaming expression foreign and familiar on my face.

  She was so beautiful, the fullness of her own smiling lips, the sweetness of her on my tongue, at my fingertips. When she thumbed my bottom lip, I felt the gesture deep in my chest.

  I leaned in and kissed her swiftly before opening the door and climbing out. God, how I loved the look of her long fingers in mine, the vision of her legs scissoring out to touch the ground in those heels. And I pulled her into me to tell her so without words, brought her hand, still in mine, to my lips to press a kiss to the delicate bones. And I didn’t let her go.

  I towed her into the lobby, into the crowded elevator, the silence deafening, our fingers shifting against each other’s in anticipation. I squeezed her middle finger between mine and stroked, pleased when her bottom lip slipped between her teeth.

  As soon as the elevator door opened, I pulled her into the hallway, into my room. It was dark, though it was late afternoon, the wedge of light from the hall disappearing when the door closed. And I stepped into her, dropping my bag, taking hers. Her eyes caught the only light in the room from a crack in the blackout curtains, her face underexposed, just the specter of her nose, her cheekbones, her chin.

  I cupped her face, lifted it, touched her crimson lip again. “Take this off,” I whispered.

  Confusion flickered through her, her body trembling under my touch. “Now?” she breathed.

  “Now,” I answered, bringing my mouth to hers, closing my lips over the ample swell of her bottom lip, sucking it into mine. “I want you naked. All of you.” I kissed her again, my control faltering at even the word, my tongue dipping past her lips for too brief a moment.

  I let her go, reaching into the bathroom to turn on the light and lower the dimmers, and she stepped into the room at my command.

  She stood in front of the mirror, her bag on the counter, her shaking hands digging through it for something, and I stepped in behind her, my hands moving on their own, driven by something far beyond my control. They caged her upper arms in a gentle stroke to her shoulders as she stepped out of her heels, bringing the top of her head to my nose, and I pressed a kiss into her hair in homage. Up her long neck my fingers roamed, sweeping her hair out of the way so I could lay my eyes on the soft, milky skin.

  I realized she’d stopped moving without needing to look. “Take it off, Rin,” I commanded again, lowering my lips to the curve where her shoulders met the column of her neck, my tongue brushing the skin, eliciting an intake of breath and a shift of motion as she obeyed.

  I laid a trail of kisses up the length of her neck until I reached the hollow behind her ear, and she leaned into me all the while. When she turned to face me, her lipstick was gone, and I stepped into her, pressing her into the counter with my hips, my eyes on the
seam where her plump lips met.

  She brought the cool cloth in her hand to my lips, wiping the faded trace of her from my mouth.

  “You have the most perfect lips,” I whispered when she was finished, my hands cupping her waist in the space between her jacket and blouse. I lowered my mouth to hover above hers. “I like them red as sin, but I love them pink and soft. I love them bare. Naked.” My lips skimmed hers, triggering a spark of heat. “What else is this pink?” My hand slid to the curve of her breast, my thumb grazing her nipple. “This?” My other hand moved to the curve of her ass, my fingertips brushing the center of her. “This?” They flexed, curling into the dip—she gasped. “I haven’t seen enough of this, Rin.”

  She closed her fists in my lapels and pulled, lifting up to kiss me, but I backed away.

  “Naked,” I growled. “I want you naked. Now.”

  She almost fell into me when I took a step back and jerked my chin toward the door, shrugging out of my coat with a sharp flash of my hands. And she did my bidding, walking out before me, pulling off her blazer and tossing it over a chair as I impatiently loosened my tie and unfastened the top button of my shirt. I paused at my suitcase, grabbing a condom from my shaving kit, flinging it on the bed as I followed her. She didn’t stop until she reached the windows, drawing back the dark curtains, leaving the sheers, bathing the room in diffused sunlight. The shape of her body was a blurred silhouette against the delicate white fabric of her blouse, the curves beneath beckoning me.

  My hands bracketed her hips, pulling her back into me, my cock straining in my pants, and I used the cleft of her ass to adjust its aching length, nestling in the valley of her, shifting when she rocked her body. My fingers flexing with desire before moving to her waistband.

  I tugged her blouse loose, ran the flat of my hand against the flat of her stomach, to the button and zipper of her pants, unfastening them. My breath rasped, thin and hot, my hips shifting in time with her back as it arched and relaxed and arched again.

  Naked. My fingers slid up her ribs, down her hips, taking her pants, then panties with me. Naked. Over the swell of her ass. Naked. I knelt as I dragged them down the length of her fucking thighs, her calves, all the way to the floor.