Stealing Scarlett

by Isabella Snow

  Not trying the term on for size then, eh?

  Quickly brushing the thought away, he smiled and did his best to explain the hellcat in question was getting ready for their upcoming excursion. He managed to refrain from mentioning she was likely soaking in the tub, her long, black hair floating around her supple body, creamy breasts covered in bubbles, slender fingers massaging her ‑‑

  Rosalia cleared her throat and angled her head to the side, an amused look on her face. It quickly became apparent she’d asked him a question. No doubt she was wondering what ‑‑ or who ‑‑ could possibly have him in so distracted a state.

  * * * * *

  Padding out of the bathroom, Scarlett looked up just in time to see him enter the bedroom. Scowling slightly, she folded her arms across her chest. She hadn’t been entirely thrilled by his locking her in ‑‑ she thought he might view her as more than just a captive after last night.

  “I’ve brought you a change of clothes.” Chase held out a pile of black clothing. “Rosalia’s daughter still keeps a room for when she visits. As with most women, her closet was overflowing.”

  “What makes you think they’ll fit?” She took the offering, a skeptical look on her face.

  “Italian women tend to wear very high heels.” He walked over to her suitcase and flipped it open. “It stands to reason they’d need pants with exceptionally long inseams.”

  Scarlett unfolded the jeans and looked at the tag. Thirty-four length, exactly her size. A little ray of hope shone in her face, until she noticed the waist size. They were two sizes smaller than she would normally wear. She could probably squeeze into them, but they were going to look like they’d been painted on.

  “These pants are going to be tight, even by rock star standards.” She frowned.

  “You can always go as you are.” He gave her bare legs an admiring glance.

  Snorting loudly, she headed for the bathroom and unfolded the shirt. A black button-down blouse, it, too, was a bit small. Grabbing a fresh bra and panty set from the bed, she snickered quietly to herself. The outfit was bound to look quite sexy. And it would serve him right, trying to tell her what she could and couldn’t wear!

  Chapter Twenty-One

  She felt like the Michelin Tire man. Her seatbelt was barely connected, the damned coat was so puffy. She’d been right. The pants fit like a glove. And the shirt? Let’s just say bountiful would be an adequate description of her cleavage. He’d taken one look at her figure and dug out the most obnoxious, curve-concealing coat he could find, stuffing her into it while shaking his head.

  Still, it was better than braving the snow in a miniskirt and heels. She was definitely grateful for the pair of snow boots he’d delivered. There were a size too big, but an extra pair of socks had taken care of that. At least she was warm.

  “Do I need to worry about you trying to escape today?” Chase turned the Range Rover onto a small, winding road.

  “Not if you’re telling the truth about an impending blizzard.” She eyed the darkening clouds to the east.

  “Is that the only reason?”

  Scarlett bit her tongue. What did he want her to say? That she didn’t want to escape anymore? He wasn’t going to get off that easily!

  “Why are we going to a monastery?” She changed the subject. “Have you volunteered yourself for an exorcism?”

  “Funny ‑‑ have you considered giving up your day job?” Chase slowed the SUV down as a tiny village appeared in the distance. “Oh, right ‑‑ you’ve already done that, haven’t you?” He gave her a comforting pat on the knee.

  It took every bit of self-control to keep from lunging at him as he pulled over beside an ancient-looking church. There was no need to rub that in! Stretching her arm across the door panel, she began to thump her index finger against the leather surface, gritting her teeth as he started to parallel park.

  “Sulking?” He shut the engine off and turned toward her, a lopsided grin on his face. “A spanking might cure that.”

  Scarlett’s heart leapt into her throat. “That won’t be necessary, thank you.” She threw the door open and tried to launch herself from the vehicle. Unfortunately, she’d forgotten to unfasten her seatbelt first. Much like a rubber band, her body snapped backward, returning to her seat with a thud.

  Slightly dazed, she shook her long, black hair out her eyes and gritted her teeth. Of all the people for that to happen in front of! Completely flustered now, she reached for the seatbelt and tried to release it, but her fingers kept slipping due to nervousness.

  “Allow me.” He was already standing beside her, a broad smile on his face. Leaning across her waist, he reached for the seatbelt and unbuckled it with ease.

  The shoulder strap whizzed past her chin, and she gave him a dirty look. Glaring at him with every bone in her body, she pushed him out of the way and stumbled into a two-foot snow bank. Sighing inwardly, she turning around to face the old church, tilting her head back until it came into view. It was small, but glorious. She guessed it to be several hundred years old, with delicate bronze filigree covering most of the reddish-brown exterior. A walkway stretched from the road to the building and then wrapped behind the church on the left.

  “Toward the back.” He locked the SUV and nodded toward the path.

  It had been shoveled, thank God. Which meant she had a better chance of staying ahead of him. Mindful of the thin layer of ice, she walked as quickly as safety would permit, refusing to even glance over her shoulder to see where he was.

  “First door on the right,” Chase called out from behind her.

  Scarlett entered a small courtyard, surprised to find a flock of chubby little birds feeding on scattered birdseed. They glanced up at her, eyeing her curiously, but continuing to feed all the same. She took a few steps closer and smiled as one of them strutted about indignantly, obviously insulted by her presence.

  “Rock partridges.” Chase’s voice was close behind her. “Year-round residents up here.”

  He walked over to a large wooden door and grabbed the bronze knocker, rapping it against the wood several times. As Scarlett watched from afar, the door flew open, and an amazingly tiny woman appeared on the threshold.

  “Signor Chase!” The bubbly little woman clasped her hands together and smiled cheerfully. “To what we are owing such honor?”

  “Sister Sophia, you look lovely today.” Chase bowed slightly at the waist, and the elderly woman waved him away playfully.

  Scarlett stared in awe, completely dumbfounded by his sudden display of manners. She wanted to warn the Sister that he might be possessed after all, as this behavior was a far cry from his norm.

  “And who you have brought us?” The old woman noticed her in the background, wrinkled eyes smiling kindly.

  Scarlett cleared her throat and stepped forward.

  “This is Scarlett.” Chase wrapped his arms around her shoulder and drew her close. “She has need of one of your dressmakers.”

  Pursing her lips, Scarlett had to bite her tongue to keep from telling him off in front of the old woman. She certainly knew her own name and didn’t need him speaking for her! She was surprised to hear the part about the dressmaker, however. She hoped he didn’t intend to dress her in a nun’s habit!

  “Certainly!” Sister Sophia stepped back, motioning for them to enter the building. “You have a good luck today ‑‑ the snow makes everyone to be indoors; we have many sisters free for tailoring.”

  Chase nudged her forward, and she stepped through the doorway. Greeted by a flurry of activity, Scarlett was startled by what appeared to be a professional clothier’s shop. Mannequins, textiles, giant spools of thread, brightly colored ribbons, and a plethora of other dressmaking necessities were strewn about the room.

  “The sisters used to tailor at the Vatican.” He spoke proudly, leading her over to the counter. “They’ve since retired to Savina. I’m lucky to have them so close to home.”

  At the sound of his voice, the bustling came to a halt
as the women turned to see their visitors. Within seconds, she and Chase were surrounded by several nuns, each of them babbling away in Italian. Poor things clearly had cabin fever! As her captor conversed with them, her gaze roamed around the room, coming to rest on a gorgeous display of cream-colored silk.

  Just like the dress she’d destroyed the night of their first meeting.

  Frowning at the reminder, she turned her attention back to the sisters and did a double take. They were each looking at her in a most peculiar way. One of them stepped forward and unzipped her coat while another moved behind her and slid it down her arms. Before it was even completely removed, another sister stepped forward and slipped a measuring tape around her waist, calling out numbers, while yet another nun wrote it down.

  As they spun her around, she came face-to-face with Chase, his gaze instantly drawn to her cleavage. His brow arched slightly, his lips pressing together as he examined her figure again. She could see his chest heave slightly ‑‑ just enough to let her know his mind had wandered to activities better thought of without the walls of a convent.

  A smug smile on her face, she turned her hips to the side, letting him get a good look at the silhouette of her bottom. The pants were tight enough to remind him of everything he’d seen last night. His eyes had a faraway look in them as Sister Sophia began chattering again.

  “You have a special need?” The nun looked up at him expectantly.

  Chase coughed slightly at the question, and Scarlett had to pinch herself to keep from giggling. How the poor woman would blush if she’d known the answer to her inquiry! Reaching into his jacket pocket, he withdrew his wallet and slipped out a small photograph. As he handed it over, the old woman gasped with delight. “Bella!” she exclaimed.

  He gave his captive a pointed look before replying. “Very much so.”

  A wrinkle creased Scarlett’s forehead as the two pored over the photograph. She wanted to ask what it was, but didn’t want to appear overly interested, either. Fortunately, the sister wanted to involve her in the discussion.

  “You are still having this dress?” She held the photo up, and Scarlett gasped.

  It was her. A photo taken the night of the company Christmas party. And here she’d thought she’d managed to avoid that annoying little photographer! Judging from the picture, he’d managed to get a shot as she’d arrived.

  But why hadn’t it been included in the company newsletter?

  “I’m editor-in-chief of the company paper.” He looked down at the photo. “When I saw the negative for this, I realized I couldn’t share it with anyone else.”

  “Signorina?” Sister Sophia waved a hand at Scarlett, trying to break whatever spell she was apparently under.

  Smiling apologetically, Scarlett finally answered the old woman. “Unfortunately, the dress was ruined by a glass of merlot.”

  “Pity.” The nun gazed wistfully at the photo, as though mourning the death of such a beautiful garment.

  “Yes.” Scarlett shuffled her feet in wholehearted agreement.

  Chase began speaking in Italian again, and the other sisters quickly hurried over to him. She couldn’t be sure of what he was saying, but they seemed to be taking great delight in whatever it was. A moment later, they returned to her side, taking a few additional measurements. Once finished, they waved goodbye and disappeared behind a large partition separating the storefront from the working area.

  “Tomorrow evening all will be ready for you.” Sister Sophia shook Chase’s hand and gave it a maternal pat.

  “Thank you, Sister.” He dipped his head slightly and grabbed Scarlett’s coat from a nearby countertop. Sliding it over her shoulders, he held it up while she slipped her arms into the sleeves.

  “Very pleasure to meet you, signorina; we hope you will like our work.” The little woman threaded her arm through Scarlett’s and led her to the door. “And please take care of signor. He is our favorite Americano!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chase pulled a chair out and motioned for Scarlett to sit down. The dining table was covered with fancy place settings, each platter overflowing with home-cooked masterpieces. She took the proffered seat and gave him a sideways glance as he sat down beside her. She still wanted to know why she was having clothes made, if they were only going to be in the chateau for the weekend.

  As they waited for Rosalia and Silvio to join them, Chase filled her wine glass with a French Riesling and set it down before her. “Did you want to ask me something?”

  This mind-reading ability of his was really starting to get out of hand!

  “Why do I need special clothes? Surely I can borrow something else until we leave.” She eyed her glass of wine, debating whether or not to drink it.

  “If it keeps snowing like this, the Rome office will be closed Monday, which means we won’t be able to leave until later in the week, after I’ve had a chance to deal with the thief.” Chase looked toward the window. “As a consolation, I thought you might like to attend Savina’s Spring Gala, instead.” He stared at her over the rim of his wine glass.

  “Oh.” Momentarily speechless, she wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. She’d been expecting something less…romantic. It was disarming. So much so, she felt compelled to change the subject. “Perhaps I should see if Rosalia needs help.”

  “Vattene!” A shrill voice echoed in the distance suddenly, the old woman’s tone signaling exasperation.

  Scarlett turned toward the noise just in time to see Silvio exit the kitchen, his wife close on his heels. Judging from the chocolate smeared across his face, he’d sampled a goodly sized piece of something he shouldn’t have.

  The old man was surprisingly nimble as he dove for the dining room table, throwing himself onto a chair and assuming the posture of someone in prayer. Rosalia was still in hot pursuit when Chase stood up and intercepted her, a broad smile on his face. Gently turning her around, he led her back to the kitchen as she babbled away in obvious irritation over her husband’s antics.

  They disappeared into the kitchen, and Scarlett turned toward Silvio. The elderly Italian was smiling ‑‑ not unlike a mouse who’d snatched the cheese. She couldn’t help giggling as he held up his glass of wine and gave her a quick nod before downing most of it. A moment later Chase and Rosalia returned, her captor’s arms laden with food. As the housekeeper let him know where everything should go, Scarlett stared incredulously. Who would have thought this bear of a man could behave so domestically?

  When the last tray was set down, Rosalia hurried over to her chair, smiling as Chase helped her into it. Scooting forward to bring her plump frame closer to the table, she paused just long enough to give her husband a quick thump on the head with her finger. Wincing dramatically, the old man chortled pleasantly, clearly unfazed by his wife’s Mediterranean temper.

  “Do you speak any English at all?” Scarlett smiled at both of them.

  The couple smiled back, obviously unable to understand a word she’d just said.

  “I’m afraid not.” Chase took her plate and piled it high with salad. “I’m actually the first native English speaker they’ve ever known.”

  “And how did you learn Italian?” She’d been meaning to ask that since their arrival.

  “I was already fluent in Spanish.” He folded his napkin across his lap. “Italian came pretty easily once I started taking lessons.”

  Rosalia interrupted their conversation briefly, offering Scarlett a basket of fresh rolls, a stern look on her face as she spoke.

  “She seems to think you could use some fattening up.” Chase chuckled as he cut into his lasagna.

  Scarlett blushed as the old woman piled several onto her plate. “Grazie.” She hoped she was pronouncing her “thank you” correctly.

  Rosalia then turned to the task of serving her husband, making a point of stocking his plate with anything but dessert. He groaned and stuck his lower lip out, clearly unhappy at the prospect of having to eat his veggies before getting his hand
s on any more of that chocolate cake.

  Sitting back in her chair, the elderly woman sighed and folded her hands across her lap, taking a much-deserved rest after an entire day’s cooking. Reaching for her own glass of wine, she faced the younger woman and started talking a mile a minute.

  Scarlett’s eyes widened as she tried to make sense of it all, but could only stare helplessly as the barrage continued. Stealing a peek at her host, she noticed he appeared to be suppressing a laugh. “What is she saying?”

  Chase buttered his roll and placed the knife across his plate. “She wants to know when you plan to start having babies ‑‑”

  “Babies!” She cut him off, her head snapping back toward the old woman.

  “-- with me.” The corners of his mouth were slightly upturned as he took a bite of the roll.

  Scarlett felt her jaw drop. “She’s joking, surely…” Her voice was hushed.

  “Possibly.” He didn’t sound convinced.

  “I don’t know what to say.” She was flabbergasted by the woman’s directness.

  “Shall I tell her we’ve already started trying?”

  Without hesitation, she slapped his arm and gave him a withering stare. The man had no couth! The sound of chuckling drew her attention from Chase’s catlike grin, and she turned to see both Rosalia and Silvio beaming from ear to ear.

  “Why would she ask such an outrageous question?” She mouthed the words quietly.

  “She thinks we’re engaged.”

  Just then the sound of a cell phone rang out from the foyer.

  “Excuse me.” Chase sighed and pushed his chair back.

  Scarlett’s vocal chords lay paralyzed as he tracked the ringing into the foyer and retrieved his phone from his coat. Engaged? Why would he tell them such a thing! Rosalia placed a slice of lasagna on her plate, indicating it would take more than just salad to fatten her adequately. Hoping the elderly couple couldn’t tell she was blushing, she lowered her head and began forking the pasta into her mouth, covertly trying to eavesdrop on her host.