by Pamela Ann
I couldn’t help it; I bellowed a deep-bellied laugh. This woman—a stranger—was truly refreshing.
“Magic Mike? What in God’s name is that?”
She started to chortle before letting it loose. “It’s a movie … about buns of steel…” she started to inform me before choking on her own laughter.
Amused, I wasn’t sure what I had gotten myself into. I was contemplating if I should stand there, seeming puzzled as she laughed her heart out, or if I should excuse myself and leave. I supposed my confusion showed on my face because she began to collect herself, gently wiping the tears on the sides of her eyes.
“You’re probably freaked out, huh? I’m not usually this strange. Maybe it’s the jet lag. I just arrived earlier this morning.”
“I’m not freaked out, as you put it,” I pointed out as I gently noted her soft features. I stared into her deep, honeyed eyes, feeling suddenly suspended from everything else around me. “You said you arrived this morning? From your accent, you’re American, aren’t you?”
She smirked, showcasing two cute dimples. “Guilty as charged. I hope you’re not one of those crazy loons that’s anti-American.”
I couldn’t seem to stop smiling as I watched her talk and be silly with herself. It was invigorating to see someone freely expressing themselves without any inhibitions whatsoever.
Quickly shaking my head in response, I answered, “Of course not.”
“Good, ‘cause it would be a shame since you’re so good to look at and all. It’d be a crime.”
I had my fair share of encounters when it came to brazen, forward women, but her sort? This woman was the first to be so bold without any hidden agenda. She wasn’t attracted to my name, the fame, the money, and the power that came with the richness. To her, I was simply a man, a stranger in the night.
Dropping my gaze towards her hand where she held her broken stiletto, I offered, “Here, let me help, but you must give me the other good pair, as well.”
She seemed confused a moment. “But why? You’re not planning to break it, too?”
“That’s the whole point,” I said before raising my brow at her. “Unless, of course, you plan to carry on limping about in the city. Then I’d be more than happy to oblige you, as well.”
She blew out a breath before begrudgingly taking off her other shoe then handing them both to me. Without much thought of the foot accessory, my hands efficiently snapped the other heel off, solving her dilemma.
“There,” I announced with glee. “Now there’s one less woman limping around the eternal city.”
She murmured a soft thanks before she slipped into them, looking rather pleased that I had found a solution for her.
“So, what brings you to Italy, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Curling a strand of her hair on the back of her ear, she gazed at me, giving me a good glimpse of her dark fringed lashes, with eyes so beautiful I could literally stare into them without blinking. “My father’s an expat. We’re a team: him, my brother Patrick, and I. My mom died during childbirth when I was ten, and it’s just been us three since. My dad started this new job last year. Apparently, the branch here needed him. He came a month before me, so he’s more adjusted to the grand Italian lifestyle than I am. I’m still so awkward with everything … the language and all.”
She seemed so innocent yet not. I couldn’t figure her out.
“Italian language isn’t all that hard to learn. I’m sure with your quick wit you’ll be snapping your fingers, ordering your coffee in no time.”
Her honeyed eyes sparkled before she beamed at me, flashing her straight set of teeth and lush lips. “You think so?”
Yeah, I knew as much. Italian men would flock to have a little of her fire. She was full of it. It was intoxicating to be around. Hell, I surely was one of them.
How old was she, anyway? She seemed young. God, I hoped not too young. That would be a shame.
Changing topic, I scouted around to see if she was with anyone, but the coast was clear. “Please don’t tell me you were walking around town all alone at this ungodly hour?”
She blinked, fanning those lashes at me. “Why? Is it not safe?”
“Porca miseria, have you lost your mind? Didn’t your father teach you anything? No woman is safe walking around at night alone. There is no city in the world that’s safe enough, trust me on that.”
She held up her hand, feeling the brunt of my words. “Geez, okay. Okay. Fuck, what got your panties in a twist? The son of one of my father’s friends, Adam, brought me out tonight to this bar…” She paused, taking a breath before continuing, “He got too comfortable with me, so I left without telling him. I figured I could go home without his help since it didn’t take long for us to get here.”
My temper flared at the thought of her being taken advantage of by this wanker named Adam. There was one thing I loathed, and that was men who preyed on vulnerable women, like Kim for instance. She was new to this city, and I could almost bet that prick of a man had thought he could get his sleazy way with the help of a few drops of alcohol.
Controlling my breathing, I tried to concentrate and brush away the thoughts of Adam, focusing instead on this darling of an American before me. “Where’s home, if you don’t mind me asking? We can get you a taxi to take you safely.”
She cringed. “Well, I … arrived earlier today as I pointed out, and I stupidly didn’t bother wanting to know what it was since I trusted Adam. I didn’t realize that I’d need some rescuing from him.”
Dio!
“Trusting a mere stranger you’ve known less than a day isn’t that smart.” I didn’t hold back pointing the dire fact at her, hoping she wouldn’t repeat this mistake in the future.
She arched her brow at me teasingly. “And yet, here I am … talking to you.”
“Touché.”
The woman truly was something else. I stood there, mesmerized. Only then did I realize I had never been so enthralled by a woman in my life.
Trust me, it was quite a shock.
Tre
Presente (Present)
“There’s severe damage to his leg. We won’t know how bad it is until we do more tests. On top of that, there are second degree burns and possible nerve damage,” the soft-spoken man said with undeniable sadness, making me wonder how truly severe my situation was.
From the background chatter, I could gather that my parents were the ones being informed of my situation. Of course, my mother would be devastated if her only son was mangled and deformed.
Ignoring her annoying cries, I kept up the pretense that I was still asleep in a deep coma, rehashing what had happened at the track before everything crashed and went in flames.
And that damning dream of her. Of all the things to resurface in my subconscious, why in bloody Hades did it have to be her? I loathed anything and everything she represented. Selfish, money hungry, and only did things to serve herself. Once she had gotten what she had come for, she would eject you from her life as if the time you had spent with her meant not a damn thing at all.
Never would I let a woman distract me. She had been the one mistake, one I was still paying dearly for.
You see, I was the idiot who had thought her different from others. Maybe it was because she truly didn’t know me at first, or maybe it was the novelty of believing that someone was interested in me without attaching the fame or fortune that many were after. To her, I simply was Luca. However, this blinded stupidity on my part blew up in my face when I learned the truth—that she was married to an older man.
Understandably, I went ballistic. There were so many instances when I was tempted to see her, to confront her about her lies, but I would always end up convincing myself that I shouldn’t even bother wasting my breath.
She never gave any indication that she was engaged to be married, nor did I know if she was involved with anyone. In the very beginning, when our relationship had started blossoming, she had seemed so open and honest that I never t
hought it important to ask any vital questions. After all, the women I got involved with typically dropped any man they were with to be with me. That arrogant perception had blinded me from everything. So much so that I started to question my sense of judgment.
Her betrayal went far beyond my ego. She had deliberately humiliated me, and I wasn’t about to simply let that go. If she thought she could walk away unscathed, then she should think again.
I had thought before the accident that I could let it slide, that I could brush it under the rug and forget she had ever existed. But then there was the dream.
The dream brought everything back to life.
The suppressed anger over her deception was back with a vengeance.
=-=-=-=
“I’m not quite a vegetable, then, am I, Vittorio?” I informally addressed the peppered-haired doctor since propriety and manners had left me. Besides, I was in this hideous hospital gown, so I felt as if I had earned the right to feel uninhibited, to do as I wanted just so I could make myself feel a little better.
My humor made him give a low chuckle, clearly amused. “Ah, not quite there, Luca. Though let’s not forget that this was a close call. You could’ve died out there. These physical injuries will heal, but in my field, traumatic experiences affect a lot of things. Your mother insists that we leave nothing out, so a therapist will be by to speak with you later this afternoon.”
My mother. The thought left an undesired taste on my tongue. I hadn’t wanted to think about her when I had woken up with the most harrowing of headaches. It had felt as if something was pounding in my brain, making my ears ring with each breath and pump of my blood. I was in the most agonizing pain, but I would rather deal with that than face the woman who had given birth to me.
It was a wretched thing to think of my mother. The woman had suffocated me whenever she had the chance, and if given the right opportunity, she would leave trails of her vileness wherever and to whomever she encountered. I had always wondered how my father withstood her, being trapped in that monstrosity they called marriage. Alas, my father didn’t believe in divorce, and for some odd reason, he had always respected her. In the oddest of circumstances, some might even deem it endearing.
When Vittorio peeled the bandage off my forehead, I gave a rapid hiss followed by a grumbled complaint that maybe he should change eyeglasses, because it seemed as if he couldn’t tell the difference between professionally taking a bandage off and waxing my forehead of any hairs. As Italians, we had plenty of hair, making it feel as though he was trying to rip my skin off my skull.
“You’ll survive,” he stated briskly, laughing once more before adding, “If women these days can survive the aftermath of a Brazilian wax, you certainly can handle a little sting.”
“Good thing you’re a friend of the family, or I would’ve taken that joke as an insult.”
“I don’t see why people find you intimidating. I suppose I’ll always see you as a little boy, even with the beard and all.”
I was about to say something snarky to quip back, but his demeanor changed from playful banter to a serious note quite suddenly as he gave me the worried face of someone who cared about me.
“Your grandfather would’ve been distraught to see you in such a state. You’re far too young to tempt fate, Luca. You were lucky to survive, but don’t wait until all of that luck runs out, because it will. There are limits to everything; always remember that.”
Vittorio had been my grandfather’s best friend. Though he was teetering on the edge of retirement, it was always him who tended to me whenever I was sick with fever or had cuts and bruises from school. The man had seen me grow up from a mere child to a man. Sarcasm was normal banter between us. However, there were times that I did listen to his advice, and right now was one of those instances.
Apart from an injured rib; a few burns on my arms, torso, and a small part of my legs; a large cut on my forehead; and the shard of glass successfully taken out of my shoulder, I was perfectly fine. Some of the medical folks said that I was lucky to be alive.
The last thing I felt like was lucky.
Thinking back to the day of the race, I knew I had been pushing too hard to outmaneuver Andrés. There had been a slight drizzle of rain, making the track more slippery, but I had been past caring. I was too consumed by the intoxicating surge of blood pounding heavily into my heart, speeding rapaciously as my foot pressed harder on the gas pedal. The recklessness I had enjoyed had come with a high price.
Would I do it again? More than likely.
Life was short, so why not make the most thrills out of it while I still could? After all, once you were dead, all you left behind were memories.
It wasn’t long until the chatty nurse who reminded me so much of my late aunt, who had died five years ago to breast cancer, came bustling into my room, armed with my medication and the catered food my mother had strictly demanded.
It was a typical mother tactic for her to meddle in everything that involved me. I had been adamant not to see her nor my father for the past two days since the accident. I simply wasn’t in the mood to be lectured or backed into a corner from their worries and guilt-ridden speeches.
“Where’s the espresso?” I asked, frowning at the ostentatious display of food that was suited for dining in a five-star hotel instead of a city hospital.
The nurse frowned before she made a tsk-tsking sound, disapproving. “You’re not allowed to have any of that, because of the kind of medications you are taking. It might react and worsen your condition.”
“Right,” I responded curtly as I lazily reached for a bottle of water.
“Keep praying to God that he’ll secure you a speedy recovery. Then you can have as much espressos as you want.” She winked at me while checking the IV drip, making sure everything was working perfectly before handing me all the medication I was obligated to take.
I took the cup then tipped my head backwards, taking them all in one go. Drinking the crisp, bland taste of acqua did little to refresh me at all. After two days cooped up in this forsaken place, I was ready to leave and be done with it.
My wretched thoughts started to become blurry due to the strong medication they had provided. I detested the thought of falling back into unconsciousness, but I did drift off into a nap, waking a few hours later when I heard a knock on the door.
Hospitals were the least relaxing place to be in, what with constantly being disturbed for more medication and medical interrogation. If another person asked me how I was feeling at the moment, I would definitely have something unfriendly to retort back.
My temper was kept in check when a tall, blonde, beguiling woman came into the room, instantaneously sparking my interest.
This ought to be stimulating, I silently mused as my eyes scrutinized her from head to foot. Gone was my hazy mind as my cock twitched to attention, detecting some lively action that was about to transpire soon.
“Who might you be?” I asked, nodding for her to come forward so we could properly converse and to also indulge my dirty mind that was ready to come out and play.
“I’m the therapist, Signore di Medici,” she coyly replied before showing me her identification.
Hospital stays would truly be bearable if one had women about who looked like they had stepped out from Milan’s Fashion Week. It was an indulgent thought, one I had fantasized about.
“And your name is?”
“Anna Lisa Ardizzoni, signore.” Her voice came out in a sultry crescendo that got my member aching for attention.
Licking my lips, I intently gazed at her before deploying the usual charm I played when I was showing interest in a woman. “Anna Lisa…” I murmured her name, trying it out just to pique her awareness of me.
The woman was truly ravishing as she gazed at me with black-rimmed eyewear and a succulent pout. This hospital stay surely was starting to get better by the second.
“Single? Married?”
She appeared a little nervous, as if she had note
d how I was intently watching, before deciding to respond to me.
“Single,” she answered in a breathless manner.
“Good, because I’d hate it if you had to cheat on your husband.”
“Cheat?”
I grinned, pleased with her honesty. “I don’t condone cheating. Do you?”
She shook her head. “No, of course not.”
My predatory smile went even wider as I noted her blushing appealingly before me. “You’re pretty, Anna Lisa.”
The chase, it was just as elating as plucking the prize.
My compliment made her find her voice and her footing, gradually gaining confidence in conversing with me. “Grazie, signore. When I heard that you were a patient here, I simply felt obliged to personally make sure you were fine. Everyone adores you.”
Everyone.
Hmm. I wasn’t so sure about that sentiment.
I doubt she even knew I was in the hospital, and if she did, I doubt she would even care.
Immediately dismissing thoughts of the wretched woman, I solely focused on the desirable creature before my very eyes. “Do you adore me, Anna Lisa?”
Her eyes sparked fire, visibly aroused as she addressed me. “Sí, it’s an honor to be at your service, Signore Luca.”
“Well, Anna Lisa, before we get to the actual therapy, I was hoping you could help me ease some of my tension away to help me relax a little.”
She remained quiet, but her eyes and slightly parted lips spoke volumes. I didn’t need any more signs that she was easily persuaded to do my bidding.
“My cock aches, and it needs a mouth to relieve its pain.” I raised my brow, challenging her. “Will you be willing to help me with this slight predicament I’m having, Anna Lisa?”
“It’s against the rules…”
Rules were made to be broken.
“I’m sure it is, and I understand why that’s implemented, but are you willing to get on your knees and bend those rules for me, Anna Lisa?” My hand reached below, boldly showing her how dire my situation was.