Forbidden: House of Sin

by Elisabeth Naughton

  She studied me for several seconds, and I was sure she was going to ask about my tenuous relationship with my degenerate brother. But instead, she said, “I thought you lived here in Italy before you took over at Covet.”

  I sighed, happy for the change in subject, and ran my hand down her silky hair. “I haven’t lived here for years. Before I was summoned to Covet, I was building sailboats in the tropics.”

  “No.” An adorably pointed look filled her eyes as her smile faded, and she tipped her head and stared at me. “Please tell me you’re lying. You did not build boats.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I laughed, and damn, it felt good to laugh. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had anything to laugh about.

  I tugged her onto my chest and brushed the hair back from her face as she peered up at me. “I did. I built gorgeous wooden sailboats. They’d scare the shit out of you. I’m getting hard just thinking about taking you out on one.”

  “That is not funny.”

  Smiling, I lifted my head and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “No, it’s not funny. The way you held on to me on our ride through the Grand Canal was hotter than hell.”

  She sighed and let me kiss her mouth. But before I could take the kiss deeper, she drew back and blinked at me. “So how long ago were you building these horrible sailboats?”

  “Two months ago.”

  A shocked look filling her eyes. “Only two months ago?”

  I nodded. Had she thought I’d been in New York longer? For the first time, I wondered if she’d believed I’d had anything to do with her friend’s death.

  I braced myself for that question. Braced myself to hear her ask whether or not I’d known Elena McCabe personally. But she surprised me when instead she asked, “Why were you building boats in the tropics when your family is independently wealthy and considered royalty in this country? Does it have something to do with that scary tattoo on your leg?”

  I’d hoped she hadn’t seen that tattoo. The ouroboros on my inner calf—the snake with wings swallowing its tail—wasn’t something I liked people to see. I thought I’d kept her eyes distracted from that part of my body when I was naked, but this woman clearly didn’t miss a thing. “No,” I lied. “Not because of that.”

  “Good, because it’s beautiful artwork. Does it have a special meaning to you?”

  My stomach twisted. Yes, but not one I wanted to tell her. “No,” I heard myself say. “Nothing more than stupidity in my youth.”

  She smiled. “I was just curious because I knew someone back in college who had the same birthmark in his iris as you. He called it a snake in the eye. Kinda like your tattoo.”

  That was a connection I did not need her making.

  “So tell me why you ran away to the tropics,” she said, relaxing against me.

  I exhaled, relieved she wasn’t pushing to know more about my birth defect or my tattoo. Even more relieved she wasn’t grilling me about Elena McCabe. “Because my father and I don’t get along.”

  “That sounds familiar.” She rolled her eyes.

  I fought back a burst of anger at the mention of her dick of a father. As far as I was concerned, it was a good thing he was dead.

  “It’s different,” I said, focusing on how soft her hair felt against my fingers as I twirled a strand near her face. “I’m the oldest. The fact I never wanted to be part of the family business has been a source of contention between us.”

  “How old were you when you left?”

  “Twenty.” I stared at her hair twined around my finger, remembering that day like it was yesterday. The moonlight. The circle. The screams that came after.

  I shook my head to rid myself of the images threatening to drag me under and refocused on her sweet and curious face. “My father wasn’t happy when he learned I’d left. My mother convinced him I needed to sow my oats before taking my rightful place with the family.”

  “But I thought you’d been here recently. Sofia’s mother said you were in their restaurant just a few years ago.”

  “I was.” I skimmed my thumb over a small circular scar near her temple. “What’s this from?”

  “Chicken pox. Focus, Luc. Sofia?”

  One corner of my lips tipped up. This woman would make a great investigator. When she wanted answers, she wasn’t easily distracted.

  I sighed. “I come back every couple of years to keep the peace with my parents. I never stay long. I stopped into Sofia’s family restaurant on my last trip.”

  She laid one hand on top of the other on my chest and rested her chin on her hands. “So why did you agree to the job at Covet now?”

  “I didn’t have much of a choice. After my uncle had his heart attack, my father decided I’d spent too much time trying to find myself and ordered me to New York. Trust me, acting CEO of a fashion magazine was never on my list of career choices.”

  “Yet you gave up your life in the tropics because your family needs you. That’s very admirable.”

  I nearly huffed. It wasn’t admirable. If she knew the real purpose of Covet, she’d run screaming out of this room and I’d never see her again.

  My chest tightened. I couldn’t let that happen. I needed her with me. I couldn’t explain why. I knew I was being selfish. I knew she’d be so much better off without me. But I didn’t want to let her go, because she was like a spark to my soul, giving me strength, giving me life. Somehow I’d find a way to keep her safe. And, hopefully, somehow I’d find a way to keep my family and our House and everything it represented secret from her.

  “I think I understand why you like control so much,” she said softly.

  I gazed down into her blue eyes, and my blood warmed as thoughts of making her submit to every one of my filthy desires filled my mind. I slid my fingers through her hair and around to cup the back of her head. “You do, huh?”

  “Mm-hm. You like to dominate because so much of your life is out of your control.”

  I was stunned at the way she could see right to the heart of me. This woman who’d only been with me a week had burrowed her way inside me and latched on to my soul, seeing parts of me no one else ever had. Any woman could bend to my will, but this woman—this gorgeous, strong, innocent woman—was embracing my darkness, forever owning a piece of me I could never take back. And that didn’t just make me hard, it made me desperate for more. Desperate for her.

  My heart raced, and every inch of my body came to life. With one hand at her hip, I rolled her to her back until she was pinned beneath me. My straining erection pressed against her leg, telling her exactly what I wanted. “I’m going to devour you, Natalie. You know that, don’t you? If you stay with me, I’m going to own you—body and soul—and draw you into my shadow until you are utterly and irretrievably lost in me.”

  Her soft blue gaze held mine. “I’m already lost in you, Luc. So lost I feel like I’ve finally been found.”

  Her words burned through the last of my walls. Her eyes engulfed my soul. I claimed her mouth in a hard, hot, burning kiss that unleashed every ounce of my passion. I’d said I would ruin her. I’d said I would devour her. With two simple sentences, she’d completely shredded me to the point where I was the one who was forever ruined by her.

  I was the one who’d just been devoured. Heart, mind, body, and soul.

  Natalie James owned me. And I had never felt so free.

  * * *

  I had the best day I could remember having.

  After a late breakfast in bed, we walked all over the city like tourists. I showed her the Rialto Bridge, and we strolled through shops sharing a gelato—a treat I was quickly learning she loved. We toured the Gallerie dell’Accademia and studied the pre-nineteenth-century art. I bought her a painting from a street vendor who flirted shamelessly with her and told me I was a lucky man. I didn’t need to be told that. I already knew. As I held her hand, I purposely got us lost between the tall buildings in narrow passageways where I could kiss her until she was breathless. When I found a d
ark corner hidden from view, I slid my hand beneath her yellow dress and my fingers into her slick pussy until she groaned.

  I adored the way her body responded to my touch. I savored the way she accepted even the dirtiest of my desires, only protesting when she thought someone might see. And I loved how she could make me breathless with a soft groan, with a brush of her seductive lips against mine, with a single raw look from across the room that told me she was mine.

  I’d never wanted any woman to belong to me like this. I’d never wanted the responsibility not just of pleasuring a woman for any length of time, but of cherishing and protecting her too. But with Natalie, I was ready for all of that. I was ready for everything.

  We ended our day in Piazza San Marco. We toured the Doge’s Palace and walked through St. Mark’s Basilica. As the sun set and the lights came on, we dined and sipped wine at an outdoor trattoria, listening to music from a small orchestra as it echoed through the square. I’d never felt so at peace. I’d never felt so free. I signed the bill for our dinner and reached for Natalie’s hand, bringing it to my lips to kiss and nip at her succulent skin, knowing I had her to thank for this feeling. I planned to show her the true meaning of desirable as soon as we got back to our suite.

  Luckily, our hotel wasn’t far from St. Mark’s Square. I threaded my fingers with hers as we walked back to the hotel and twisted our joined arms behind her back as I nipped at her earlobe and whispered all the things I was going to do to her as soon as we were alone.

  As we neared the hotel, I released her hand and let her step in front of me through both sets of double doors. The lobby was sparsely populated with guests checking in and others lounging on couches as they sipped wine or discussed their evening plans. I was anxious to get Natalie up to our room and naked. With my hands on her hips, ushering her ahead of me, I pressed a kiss to her temple and was just about to steer her toward the elevator when I spotted a fifty-something woman rising from a high-backed chair to my left.

  Everything inside me went cold, and my feet slowed to a stop as I let go of Natalie. My mother was just as elegant and cultured as she’d always been—her dark hair cut into a sleek bob, her slim body covered in a crisp blue skirt and matching jacket from some designer I couldn’t care less about. At fifty-seven, her skin showed very little age, but it was her pale, almost translucent blue eyes that worried me. Eyes that locked on me like a hawk targeting its prey the moment I stepped through the door.

  Natalie turned toward me when she realized I’d stopped, her brow drawing together in confusion at what I knew was my icy expression. “Luc? Is everything all right?”

  I couldn’t answer her. All I could do was stare at my mother as she crossed the inlaid floor straight for us. My adrenaline surged. At my side, my hand curled into a fist born of helplessness.

  “Go upstairs,” I said in a low voice, not looking toward Natalie.

  “But I don’t—”

  “Don’t back talk me right now,” I snapped. “It’s not a question, it’s an order.”

  Her mouth fell open in shock. Her blue eyes widened as she stared up at me with disbelief and horror at the way I was talking to her.

  I didn’t care. This was one of those moments when she had to listen to me. I’d been an idiot to confess to her she had any kind of power over me. The only way I was going to keep her safe was to keep her in fucking line. I knew that now—too damn late.

  My mother drew closer, the click of her heels across the gleaming floor like cannon fire in my ears.

  “Go now,” I hissed from between clenched teeth, not wanting Natalie anywhere near this woman.

  Natalie recoiled as if I’d slapped her, and her face flushed red with embarrassment and mortification. She twisted away from me.

  “Luciano?” My mother’s voice stopped Natalie’s movement and brought Natalie’s head around. Silently, I cursed my stupidity for bringing her to Italy, for touching her when I knew I should have left her alone, for putting both of us in this fucking position.

  “There you are,” my mother said in crisp English. “I’ve been waiting here for over an hour.” She turned her calculating gaze toward Natalie, and smiled in what I knew was a condescending way. “So this is the girl who’s been monopolizing your time and keeping you from your duties.” My mother held out her gloved hand. “I’m Francesca Salvatici, Luciano’s mother.”

  “Uh.” Natalie shook my mother’s hand. “I’m Natalie James. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” My mother’s patronizing smile widened, curling her red-painted lips until she looked like the Joker. I had no doubt she knew exactly who Natalie was. “It’s always nice to meet Luciano’s friends. He rarely comes home. I was hurt to learn my firstborn son was in country from the news.” My mother’s shrewd gaze darted toward me. “You told your father you wouldn’t be attending Rome’s fashion week.”

  I clenched my jaw to keep my temper in check and to keep from making a scene. “Ms. James is my assistant. And she’s going up to her room now, aren’t you, Ms. James?”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw the way Natalie’s spine stiffened and her face flushed all over again. Casting my mother a tight smile, she said, “Yes, I-I was. It was nice to meet you Mrs.—”

  “Oh, Luciano.” My mother waved her gloved hand at me and frowned. “Stop ordering the poor girl around like Giovanni does the little tartlets who swoon over him.” My mother turned her devious eyes on Natalie. “Don’t let him frighten you, my dear. He’s all bark and no bite. Now, you’re dating my son, aren’t you? I might be old, but I’m not blind.”

  “Well, I—” Natalie’s worried gaze darted to me, then away. “I suppose you c—”

  “Suppose nothing.” My mother’s eyes filled with self-satisfaction, and she pinned me with a hard look. “Your father expects you to come home for a visit while you’re in country. And to bring your assistant with you to meet the family.”

  Terror clawed at my throat. Terror and a blinding rage that colored everything red.

  My mother saw it and smiled acerbically. Without looking away from me, she said, “Natalie, dear, would you be so kind as to give us a moment alone?”

  “Um, sure.” Natalie cast me another worried glance, but I couldn’t meet her eyes. All I could do was stare at the woman who’d given me life, yet had let my father take it away the moment I’d drawn air.

  I waited until Natalie moved to a couch across the lobby, out of earshot, before I opened my mouth. “I’m not taking her home.”

  “Yes, you will,” my mother tossed back. “You’ll bring her home tomorrow, and you’ll do so without incident. The sordid pictures of you carting her out of the Cipriani fashion show are in all the tabloids. Clearly this young woman means something to you. The family has a vested interest in any woman you choose to get close to.”

  My pulse was a whir in my ears. “She means nothing to me,” I lied. “She’s just a dumb American I’m using while I’m here. I’ll dump her as soon as I get back to New York.”

  “Oh, Luciano.” My mother’s eyes filled with pity as she stepped close and patted my cheek with her gloved hand. “You’ve always been too softhearted. It’s your greatest weakness. You also live in a web of denial. Your destiny will be upon you before you know it. The sooner you accept it, the better off we’ll all be.”

  With a sigh, she dropped her hand and looked past me. “Natalie, dear. Come back here, please.”

  My whole body grew tight and hot with an anger I only barely held back. At my side, I sensed Natalie step near but I couldn’t turn to look at her.

  “Luciano is going to bring you to the villa tomorrow. Have you ever been to Tuscany?”

  “No.” Natalie glanced up at me—at my hard jaw and enraged eyes—then back at my mother. “Never.”

  “Wonderful. You’re in for a treat.” She looked back at me. “Luciano? Give your mother a kiss. My driver is waiting.”

  My muscles vibrated with restrained rage, but I leaned down and kissed my
mother’s cheek like the good boy she thought I was.

  She smiled sweetly, then looked at Natalie. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

  Her heels clicked across the floor, echoing like a doomed drumbeat at my back. Beside me, Natalie said, “Are you all right?”

  I moved straight for the elevator. No, I wasn’t all right. I was as far from all right as a person could get. My blood churned with hate and disgust until it was a frenzy in my veins, growing hotter by the second, threatening to erupt in a firestorm of fury. I didn’t want to unleash it in public. I didn’t want to unleash it on Natalie. I feared it was already too late to stop it from happening.

  Because everything I’d thought was perfect was crumbling around me. I’d stupidly convinced myself bringing Natalie to Italy would keep her safe, but now I knew the truth.

  My inability to resist a woman I never should have touched had made her a target. In my quest to do the right thing, I’d fucked my life up good. And now, because there was no way for Natalie to escape the clutches of my family, I’d fucked hers to hell as well.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Natalie

  Luc wouldn’t talk to me. He wouldn’t even look at me. I knew that was a bad sign.

  The scene in the lobby replayed in my mind as we rode the elevator up to our room in silence. My stomach twisted at the look I’d seen in his eyes as soon as he’d spotted his mother.

  The flirty, tender man I’d spent the day with was gone. In his place was one who looked as if he could tear walls down with his bare hands.

  A ribbon of fear threaded through me, but I reminded myself he was still the same man who’d saved me from that party in New York. The same man who’d rescued me from that right-wing fanatic in Rome. The same man who’d touched my heart in a mere matter of days with his kindness and strength and unrelenting passion.

  The elevator doors opened with a ping. Luc stalked out of the car, moved down the hallway, and unlocked our door. It flung hard against the wall with a clack. Stomach tight, I followed him into the suite and quietly closed the door at my back.