Giovanni takes a deep breath and lets it out. “It’s a long story, but bear with me.” And so he explains the situation. How his last work assignment was in a country fragmented by civil war. “One of my best friends was a doctor who grew up there before the recent problems began.” He grows quiet, remembering Paul and how much he admired him. “He was killed twelve weeks ago.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her eyes are kind.
He shakes his head. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did. “Paul was a widower with two kids. His brother, Phillip, contacted me recently. He lives in San Francisco and has been trying to bring his niece and nephew to the States, but he’s running into problems. Political problems. Phillip has ties with the former government, so now the current government won’t let him and his wife have the children.”
Lindsay’s eyes are focused, listening. “Who are they with now?”
“Their grandmother, but it’s not a long-term solution. As it turns out, I’m in a unique situation to help. Phillip has talked to a lawyer about setting up a private adoption.”
“Who’s going to adopt them?”
“Me.”
“You?”
He nods and presses his lips together. “I’ll adopt them temporarily to get them to the States, and then hand custody over to Phillip and his wife.”
“Wow . . . that’s some plan.”
“It should work. I’ve been living there for the last six months so I have temporary resident status, which fulfills one of the adoption requirements. Unfortunately, there’s one other requirement I don’t have.”
Lindsay leans back in her chair and studies him, before fiddling with her strawberry. “Let me guess—you need to be married.”
“Yes.”
“But you’re a doctor. Isn’t that enough?”
“It isn’t. No country on Earth is going to let a single thirty-seven-year-old male adopt two children who aren’t even a blood relation.”
She takes this in, then leans forward again. “So let me get this straight. You’re asking me to commit marriage fraud?”
“Basically, though the odds of getting caught are very small.” He watches her closely, can see the wheels turning as she sorts it all out.
“How many women have you already asked?”
Giovanni hesitates, but tells her the truth. “You’re the third woman I’ve asked.”
“The other two said no?”
“The first one said no, the second one said yes.”
Lindsay’s brows go up.
“Her boyfriend said no.”
“I see.”
“We wouldn’t have to stay married long. Once Phillip and his wife legally adopt the kids in the U.S., we could get divorced.”
“What made you think of me in all this? We barely even know each other.”
He takes a sip of his beer. “Anthony mentioned you were here in Berlin, so I asked for your address.”
Her eyes widen. “Anthony knows about this?”
“No, I didn’t tell him. I only told him I wanted to look you up to be friendly. I remembered how he once told me you were unconventional though.”
“Unconventional? What is that, code for weird?”
“Not at all. Just that your lifestyle is unorthodox.”
She snorts softly. “I could say the same thing about yours.”
“You could,” he agrees.
“So this is why you’ve been hanging around,” she murmurs. “It all makes sense now.” She takes another strawberry out, but doesn’t eat it. “Why didn’t you just tell me all this the other night?”
He licks his lips. “To be honest, I was trying to charm you a bit first.”
She laughs in amazement. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Sadly, I’m not.”
“So, all the tour guide stuff today? That was you trying to charm me?” She gives him an incredulous look.
“Basically.”
“There are no words.”
“I know.” He glances around the food court and sighs. “Charm has never been one of my strengths.”
“You can say that again.”
Maybe I have lost my sense of humor.
Part of the problem has been Lindsay herself. He’s too attracted to her. Forget charming her—he can barely think straight with this constant desire pressing on him.
He glances at her. She seems deep in thought.
“What’s the penalty for marriage fraud?” she asks.
Giovanni picks up his beer and takes a long draw, her eyes on him the whole time. He puts his glass down and licks his lower lip. “Sometimes doing the right thing means you have to circumvent the law.”
“Tell me the penalty. You must have looked it up.”
He lets out his breath with resignation. “Up to five years in prison, along with a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar fine.”
She blinks. “Are you crazy?”
He doesn’t say anything. Years ago, Paul helped him and now it’s his turn to repay the debt.
“I’m sorry.” She shakes her head. “But the answer is no.”
“No one could ever prove fraud,” Giovanni tells her. “Marriage fraud typically involves immigration, but we’re both American citizens. Hell, we’ve even slept together. Not to mention we have close family ties.”
“If we got caught though . . .” Lindsay shakes her head.
“We won’t. The risk is minimal.”
“I feel for this situation. I truly do.” She reaches over and briefly touches his arm. “But I can’t do it.”
Ironically, a few months ago, she wouldn’t have given much thought to the consequences. But coming to Berlin has made her realize it’s time to make some changes in her life, to start thinking about her future.
“You’re right.” He closes his eyes and rubs his forehead. “I apologize. I shouldn’t push you. Obviously, there is some risk involved.”
“How many other women are on your list to ask?”
“Two more. They’re both long shots. Longer than you, even.”
“Maybe one of them will agree. Or maybe the kids’ uncle will find another solution. He’s still trying to get them out, right?”
Giovanni nods, though his face is grim.
They leave the KaDeWe together, the mood between them subdued. When they reach the front, she tells him she’s going back to her apartment. “I come here all the time, so I know my way back.”
“No, I’ll take you.” His tone allows no room for argument. “We’ll grab a taxi together. It’ll be quicker than the trains.”
There’s a cab stand nearby and they walk over to it. Lindsay feels bad—for the kids, for the situation—but how can she agree to something like this?
“What are you going to do now?” she asks once they’re in the Mercedes cab headed toward her studio.
“I’m not sure. I didn’t realize it would be this difficult. I guess I’m less desirable marriage material than I thought.”
“To be honest, women don’t find marriage proposals involving fraud very romantic.”
“I suppose not.” He glances at her. “Would it help if I bought you flowers and a ring?”
Lindsay smiles. “You’re not still trying to charm me, are you?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll spare you that.”
She thinks about that genuine smile Giovanni gave her earlier, how she wishes she could see it again. “You’re a lot different than the last time we saw each other. You know that?”
His eyes go to her.
“You’re far more serious. You were really cocky before.” She goes quiet. “Though I guess it makes sense with everything. I’m so sorry about your friend.”
He nods, but doesn’t say anything.
“Is that why you’ve decided to move to Seattle?”
He shakes his head. “No. I’ve been thinking about moving back to the States for a while. It’s not uncommon to reach burnout if you do what I do for too long.”
“Are you burned out?”
She can’t take her eyes off his profile. The colorful lights of Berlin flicker across his handsome features as they drive. Despite everything—or maybe because of everything—a strong desire to reach for him comes over her.
She knows she should resist the impulse. There are a lot of reasons to resist it, good reasons, ones she knows will stop her if she thinks about them for even a second.
So she doesn’t think about them.
Instead, she shifts position in the cab’s backseat. She’s been careful not to allow any part of her body to touch his, but now she lets her leg press against the outside of his thigh, her arm brushing lightly against his.
Giovanni doesn’t move.
For a moment, she wonders if he even notices.
But then the air density changes inside the car, particles attract and repel. “What are you doing?” His voice is low, just above the engine noise.
“I think you know.”
He turns toward her, his eyes dark and questioning.
Lindsay reaches out for him, her fingers stroking his jaw, caressing his cheek. “You’ve seen terrible things, haven’t you?” she whispers.
He doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t have to. She can see it on his face.
And like the other night, she doesn’t wait for him. Pulling him toward her, she slides her hand to the back of his neck to draw him near.
He’s so much larger than her he could resist easily, but he doesn’t, and when their mouths meet that same desperation is there. The need so powerful, coming off him in waves, pulling her under. Giovanni tastes like desire, but something more.
He stops kissing her, his mouth still close. “What’s it going to be?” His breath feels hot.
Lindsay knows what he’s asking. Despite what happened the last time they were together, she can’t help herself. She shouldn’t want him, but she does.
His eyes on hers are desperate, misinterpreting her silence. “Let me be with you tonight,” he says, his voice shaking. “Please, let me.” The difficulty of pleading apparent in his gaze.
Understanding washes over her about the kind of man he is. His strength. Giovanni is the kind of man who picks up others when they fall. Who offers help when no one else will.
But who picks him up? Who helps him when he falls?
She strokes his cheek. “I want you to stay with me.”
His eyes close and he lets his breath out. She assumes he’s relieved, but when he opens them, she sees a glimmer of something troubled.
They exit the taxi into the warm summer evening. The street in front of her building still has a steady stream of pedestrians. They walk beside each other, not holding hands, not even touching, but the heat between them radiates.
He follows her inside and up the short landing to the first floor. Unlike the day hours, most people shut their doors at night. When they’re close to her own door, he suddenly reaches for her and pulls her against him, as if he’s been trying to hold back but can’t stop himself any longer.
“I lied to you that first night I came here,” he tells her, his hands splayed on her back.
“You did?”
“When I told you I didn’t want you again.” He lowers his voice. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you.”
She slides her arms around his neck. “I know that.”
He chuckles, then gives her one of his genuine smiles. “Catnip.”
Lindsay giggles, and she can hardly believe the sound. She’s most certainly never been a giggler.
They’re alone and he pushes her against the hallway’s long wall. The sound of a distant television show broadcasting in German drifts out. There’s a lingering smell from someone’s evening meal. All she can think about is Giovanni. The anticipation of having him again is taking her breath away.
He reaches behind and lifts her as if she weighs nothing. She’s a tall girl, and there’s not a lot of guys who can lift her so easily. She wraps her legs around his hips, moaning softly when he buries his face in her neck.
His mouth moves back to hers and they kiss passionately, clutching each other. He tastes delicious. His hands grip her ass, and she feels all of him, hard and ready, pressing at her center. Her breath catches as she remembers all those vibrator fantasies.
The real thing is so much better.
He draws back and eases her down, his face flushed. “Let’s go inside,” he urges.
She nods. They’re next to her door and she starts fumbling through her purse, searching for her keys.
“Hey, wait.” He grows still, on alert.
She looks up. “What is it?”
“Something’s wrong. Don’t move.”
Lindsay turns and sees what he’s talking about. Her front door isn’t closed all the way.
She sucks in her breath. “I locked that!”
“You did.” He’s still staring at it, but then turns to her. “Stay here.”
Before she can say another word, Giovanni has pushed her front door open and gone inside her studio.
She waits for a moment, panic rocketing through her when she realizes what’s happening.
My money!
She rushes through the door and sees him standing in the center of her studio.
“Whoever they are, they’re gone now.” He turns to her, his eyes stricken. “Goddamn, Lindsay, I don’t know what to say.”
Her jaw drops when she sees how her entire studio has been ransacked. Immediately, she rushes over to the bag of clay where she hid part of her bankroll.
“Oh, no!” she moans. The bag has been torn apart. There’s clay everywhere, and it’s clear the money is gone. “I can’t believe this!”
He strides over and stands next to her with his phone out. “I’m calling the police.”
She rushes to her second hiding place behind the radiator. She shoves her hand behind it, but of course there’s nothing there. “It’s gone too!”
He’s talking into his phone, though she’s too upset to pay attention. “What’s your address?” he asks her.
She frantically goes to each hiding place. They’ve all been found, except the one under a piece of broken wood flooring in the corner, which still has a thousand euro.
It’s after that she freaks out even more because she notices her masks. The one on her sculpting table is still there, but the ones on the wall have been knocked to the floor. Broken. “Who would do this?” she cries. “Motherfuckers!”
“I need your address, Lindsay,” Giovanni tells her with clipped command. His operating room voice.
She gives him her address. His expression is tense as he explains what happened to the police on the other end of the line. She realizes there’s nothing they can do about the missing money. Nothing. She can’t even report it stolen to them.
He hangs up. “The police are going to send someone out right away.” She sees the way he’s still taking in everything, the chaos, but when he notices the broken masks, his expression grows hard. “Why would someone do this to you? Do you have enemies?”
She shakes her head. “Not that I know of.” There’ve been a few guys she’s turned down, and there were those marriage proposals she refused. But she doubts any of them would want to rob her and break her sculptures. And that’s when it occurs to her. There is one person who would do this.
Werner.
“Are you sure it’s him?” Giovanni asks, his jaw clenching.
Lindsay nods. “It has to be. That’s why the rat wanted to come here and apologize to me last night.” She looks at Giovanni. “He’s never been here before. Ever. Now all of a sudden, he shows up and my money is stolen? My place is robbed?”
“Wait a minute, what money?” He considers her. “Poker winnings?”
“Yes, and you can’t mention it to the police.” She has no idea what the law is in Germany regarding gambling winnings.
“How much was there?”
Lindsay opens her mouth but then hesitates.
“Tell me the truth. How much?”
She turns to him, her throat tight. “Twenty thousand.”
His eyes widen taking this in. “Are you serious?” But then he frowns. “And you kept it all here?”
“I didn’t know what else to do with it. I didn’t want to put it in the bank because then I’d have to report it.”
“You can’t keep that kind of money lying around!”
“It wasn’t lying around. It was hidden.”
He shakes his head. “That’s crazy. You should have put it in the bank anyway.”
“Please, stop giving me shit, okay? I was just robbed and vandalized!” She waves her arms around. “Look at this place!”
He goes quiet, steps closer, and reaches for her. “I know. I’m sorry.”
She lets him pull her in, closing her eyes as he hugs her, allowing herself to be comforted for a moment.
When they pull apart, Giovanni studies her. “I still can’t believe you won twenty grand playing poker.”
“Well, I did.”
“Christ, I had no idea you were that good.”
She tries to think of some wisecrack remark but fails. Her stomach hurts. She wants to cry, but she’s too furious. Yes, she won that money playing cards, but she worked hard for it. She was at that casino every night, analyzing each hand, improving her game.
And now it’s all gone.
Those winnings were going to pay for her classes in the fall. They’d help her find a new apartment and get herself settled back home. And now it’s over, her dream killed before it even had a chance to take flight.
Two police arrive. A man and a woman, both very polite and officious, as they look around her studio. They ask her a lot of questions in their heavy accents. She shows them her passport, which she luckily always keeps with her. She tells them her suspicions about Werner, but doesn’t mention the money, only tells them she had some cash here—a couple thousand euros. They ask Giovanni questions too, want to see his passport as well. To his credit, he doesn’t mention the money either.
The police tell her they’ll open a case file on it and ask around with her neighbors to see if anyone saw anything. They take down her cell number.
Some Like It Hotter (Sweet Life in Seattle #3) Page 9