by Sienna Mynx
“That makes two of us,” Susan mumbled.
“Huh?”
“Oh nothing, nothing.”
Marcella shuffled around file folders and unopened FedEx envelopes. Sam just piled it all on her desk. She needed to get it together.
“Marcella?”
Garrett entered with eyes stretched in alarm. “Sam said you weren’t feeling well but darling you look like death.”
“She doesn’t have a fever, thank goodness,” Susan said.
“You need to go home.”
“No. I can’t.”
“Yes you will.” Susan huffed.
Garrett nodded in agreement. “We can run this place a few days without you. Go, now. And for God’s sake stay home until you’re better. You can’t get the entire gallery sick. It’s bad for business.” He winked but backed away from her.
Marcella sighed. Going home sounded like the best medicine.
***
“No me jodas!”
Lance sat before his boss, eyes following as he paced. Diego in full rage, red nostrils flared, fists clenched so tight they were white knuckled. He cursed under his breath.
“When is the court date?” Diego demanded.
“A week. The injunction is just a desperate act to delay matters.”
“There is no delay! NO DELAY! Hijo de puta!” Diego shouted. He slapped his hand into his chest, nearly snarling. “I told you show no mercy. My wants are clear! He is not to fight me. He is to come on his knees. They both are, on their knees!”
“This is America, Diego. There is due process. What have they done really? It’s nothing more than a stall tactic. You own Market Street. Every store, every shop, you’ve won.”
Diego’s angry eyes cut over to him, his glare steely. “Do you mock me?”
“I wouldn’t be so foolish. I’m only stating the facts.”
“Then don’t fail me on this.”
Lance gave him a nod. He rose. “I’ll be in touch. No need for you to make an appearance. This will go away.”
“Marie? She’s back, no?”
“Yes. She’s back. She’s home with him. I received a message. She’s anxious to see you. She’s left several in fact. I would say she’s near desperate.”
The news was reason to rejoice. But he felt nothing but rage. Diego stalked away. His silence spoke volumes. Loud enough for Lance to take leave. He needed to decide on things. Should he have the meeting, deliver justice and then leave this city and her behind? As soon as the anxiety and dread over his unexplainable feelings for Marcella overwhelmed him he shut his emotions down. She and he were friends, and there was nothing to fear in a friendship that made him happy. His eyes moved over his furnishings to his wall clock. It was after two. Marcella hadn’t called.
The morning had come with her sniffling, and weak. He knew she wasn’t well when she insisted on returning home. He nursed her as best he could. The fucking swim in the ocean had done her in. When she took sick, he felt guilty and protective; he couldn’t bring himself to leave her side. He held her and comforted her through her fever, and hacking coughs. Soon recovery came in the forms of her ability to eat and joke with him. The first thing she mentioned had been her cat and her job. He suggested another week. He needed more time with her. She flatly refused. Diego didn’t take well to rejection, especially from a woman. He had been tempted to force his will, which he had done in every case where control was lacking. Now he wished he had. She calmed him in ways he didn’t understand.
He stormed out onto his deck; the rush of waves breaking across the sloped cove could be heard. He immediately turned his attention to his phone and began dialing.
The phone rang. She thought she had turned the ringer off. Pulling the sheet down from her head she noticed the purple flashing light and willed herself to reach for it, but her bones ached. All she wanted was sleep and more of it.
The ringing stopped.
Marcella closed her eyes again. She’d taken Nighttime Alka-Seltzer, and the fizzing tablets offered a double hit of snooze. It had her in and out of a wakeful state since she came home. Now the fog moved in again clouding her thoughts. She could feel the last embers of strength extinguish as fatigue pushed her back down into a deep sleep.
Then the phone rang again.
Marcella reached for the cellular with a deep groan. Her eyes focused on the lit LCD window, and Diego’s number, then grew heavy again. He was calling? How sweet. She felt too tired, too sick, and just too worn out to deal with sweet or bitter at the moment. She turned the phone off and closed her eyes.
Diego stormed back into the bedroom through the patio doors. This time when he dialed he got her voicemail.
Hi, you reached Marcella. Leave a number and I’ll call you soon.
She’d cut him off? Turned her phone off? The last of his restraint snapped. He threw the phone. It hit the wall and shattered.
***
“Marcella? Marcella? Marcella!” Susan shook her.
Why wouldn’t they let her sleep? Though she found it hard to wake, she managed. Marcella squinted and groaned. She lifted her head from the pillow. Even in her struggles she had to admit she felt better than before. “Wa-what is it?”
“You okay?” Susan touched her forehead. “I was worried about you. I called.”
“I’m fine. I took some medicine.”
Susan breathed a deep sigh of relief. “I called you.” She picked up Marcella’s phone, turning it over in her hand. “Your cell was off.”
“I’m tired, Susan. Let’s talk later. I’m not in the mood.”
“Sweetie, you don’t look well. Can I get you something?”
“No. I’m fine.” Marcella pushed her hands away. She scooted back into her pillows grateful that she could finally breathe again. The medicine had been the final dose of balm over her scratchy throat and runny nose. “More sleep, that’s all I need. Okay?”
Susan hovered over her concerned. “Yes, okay. I’ll be here if you need me.”
The door to the bedroom closed and so did her eyes. Again she gave in to the druggish pull of sleep
***
The cold air stung. Marcella juggled a takeout cup of coffee, her laptop bag, mail and keys to the gallery in both arms and hands. A dewy fog rolled in off the river covering the streets that led from the boardwalk to Market Street. The sun would rise in another hour and it all would evaporate. Mornings such as these were the worst kind. She woke up early, feeling renewed. She decided to be the first one in. She felt well enough to try to do some damage control. She’d lost too much time already.
“Marcella?”
With her hand to the knob on the door her head turned and he approached. He seemed to materialize from thin air, but her eyes travelled past him to see a sleek sports car parked curbside.
He drove?
Marcella smiled. He was such a sight for her sore eyes. “Hi, Diego. What are you doing here?”
“Can I help you?” he offered.
“Yes, sure,” she said as she handed him her things. She held open the door with her back pressed against the cool glass, so he had to pass close by her as he entered. Thankful that her sinuses were clear she inhaled the scents that defined his masculinity. Beautiful. He disappeared into the darkness and she followed.
She stopped to lock the gallery door. The early hour made her cautious of leaving it open in fear of some vagrant surprising her. All the while she could feel his eyes go over her before she turned. Together they entered in the darkness of the gallery, except for the studio lights, which were focused on particular pieces of artwork. Marcella accepted her things hurrying into her office to put them down. “What are you doing here?” She yelled back out to him.
“I called you and you didn’t answer. I thought you may still be sick. So I came for you.”
“So you came here?” Marcella returned sans coat and coffee. She put her hands to her hips looking him over.
“I went to your place first, but I arrived as you were leaving.”
“So you followed me?” Marcella blinked in surprise.
Diego dropped his hands in his coat pockets and leveled his eyes on her. She paused at the stern look he gave her. He’s the one following her, why did he look at her as if she was the one that broke some vow?
“I was sick yesterday, plus there’s all this drama with Katchner I need to deal with.”
“Drama?” His brow quirked upward.
“Never mind it, I’m all better now.”
Diego took a step toward her. “You look better.” He moistened his kissable lips and lowered his eyes to the single open button at the top of her coat. As if under his command she reached and unbuttoned the coat to reveal a V-neck pink sweater and a pair of grey slacks that hugged her curves.
He smirked in approval.
“Why didn’t you answer when I called?”
“I told you that I…um.”
“An excuse? You told me an excuse. You were sick. I took care of you. Do I not deserve the courtesy of knowing that you were still ill or better?”
She frowned at his tone. He touched her face. “When I call you, I expect you to answer. Don’t ignore me, Marcella. I don’t like to be ignored. I will forgive it this time.”
Marcella drew back as if she’d been struck. Forgive what? Her mind struggled to get a firm hold of the indignation she felt. “I’m not your property, Diego, don’t speak to me like that.” She matched his stern look with one of her own.
His fingers wound through her hair, gripped her neck and pulled her hard against him. She gave a soft gasp, but didn’t resist.
“I missed you,” she said, breaking the standoff. “I assume you’re here because you missed me. Then why not say so? Instead of coming in here with this macho routine? I… I don’t like it.”
Diego glared at her. He opened his mouth to speak but she kissed him and he responded until she could feel the tension lessen in his broad chest, hugged tightly to hers.
“You belong to me, Marcella. You accepted it.” The next kiss was instant and fiery hot with her tongue dissolving, as his swept over and claimed the moment. A fusing of their wills, her face and neck gripped tight through his ravishment. Her purse dropped from her shoulder with a thud. Her arms eased up around his neck. He forced her back into the gallery door, the chimes above rattling upon impact. His height and strength forced her to remain pinned against the cool glass.
Breathless when he pulled back, he sucked down deep pockets of air to fill his lungs once more.
“Wow, okay, maybe I should ignore you more often,” she exhaled.
“Dinner? Say you’ll have dinner and dessert with me.”
“Yeah, dinner, I guess.”
“Meet me at Pablo’s, south end of the boardwalk.”
“I know it. But you have to have reservations or…”
He pressed a finger to her lips, and she fell silent. He stroked the side of her cheek. The flicker of arousal she’d been keeping under control sparked once more and she went still, eyes blinking with anticipation. Her hair filled his hand as he lowered his mouth to hers once more. He caught a hard exhale in his throat as he thrust his tongue deeper. She gripped his sleeves holding on. He put his weight into her, his groin pressing into the crest between her legs. She parted them as best she could, moving so he could push at her center. Tearing his lips from hers he groaned. His finger traced her bottom lip. “You taste better, you look better. I’m glad.”
“Thanks, I do feel better. I do.”
“We shall see.”
He finally pulled away. She eased off the door, closing her legs. He lowered his gaze to her hips and fixated there when he spoke. “Seven?”
“I’ll be there.”
Diego’s mood lightened and he gave her a wink. She opened the door for him and he left. Marcella stood there staring after him, trying to remember how to use the other half of her brain.
***
“Hi.”
Marcella’s head lifted from the scattered paperwork. She’d spent the first half of the day down in Garrett’s office on the phone with Edward Katchner’s attorney, and his sister, making as many calls as possible to schedule a meeting. She spent the rest of the day catching up on the mountain of paperwork the gallery’s newfound celebrity brought. Her busy schedule kept her from thinking of much else.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“Out with it Marcella, when are we going to meet Mr. Wonderful?”
“Not sure.” Marcella shrugged.
Susan walked over to the chair. “Seriously, he should come to the Katchner showing.”
“We don’t know if there will be a showing.” Marcella joked.
“There will, and when there is you bring Diego. I like that name by the way. Well not like it like it. I mean.”
“I know what you mean, and I agree. It’s time you guys meet him, I think we’re taking steps toward being…a couple.”
“Really?”
“Mmhmm. He was here this morning. Worried about me, and a little intense.” Marcella frowned recalling the hardness in his tone and stare. “We’re taking it to the next level.”
“Then we have to meet him.” Susan smiled.
***
Pablo’s faced the boardwalk. The restaurant offered two levels with panoramic views of the city across dark still waters. Marcella wished she had chosen something sexier to wear. The clientele and setting demanded it. From the darkly lit entrance she found a mix of known and unknowns among the diners. A senator, several athletes she recognized, and a local radio celebrity.
“Welcome to Pablo’s.”
“I’m here to meet Mr. Diego Andes.”
“This way, Ms. Garcia.” The maître d' said without checking the reservation ledger perched under a soft lamplight before him. Tall and thin, with beady black eyes, he stiffly walked from around the podium and gave her a polite nod to follow.
Escorted immediately to the upper level for dining, she admired the dark ambiance and solitude each dining party was afforded in the spacious area separated by a piano player. She wasn’t surprised that Mr. Mysterious would secure a private area for them. She’d spent one day away from him and now she reasoned why she’d never make that mistake again.
There were a few private tables. Diego’s gaze lifted and locked with hers when she approached. He stood.
For ten minutes he sat nursing a scotch and soda. The weakness in him had left him on edge. He’d made an ass of himself earlier. He shouldn’t have lost control the way he did and went after her. The panic over her rejection could have been foreseen. If he allowed himself to give in to the emotions she stirred there would be no limit to the pain that would surface. As soon as he saw her through the dim lights of the restaurant all his misgivings were obliterated by an explosive surge of happiness. She looked stunning. Her dark hair bounced on her shoulders in long layers, the right side sexily falling over one eye. The candlelight from the tables she passed hinted at the curves of her body discretely hidden under her coat. His eyes were immediately drawn to her petite breasts with the dark berry nipples shielded behind the snug fit of her sweater, then to her hips in the tailored grey slacks that were classically heart shaped. Diego resisted the urge to run his hands over them. And in her ears were the earrings he gave her. She fought him for two evenings to return them. Now she wore them constantly.
Marcella smiled at him and he realized he too had started smiling. He stepped around the table, greeted her with a peck to the cheek, and then helped her from her coat. He tossed it to the thoughtless host who should have accepted it from her the moment she arrived. The server nodded and blushed at the error.
Diego helped her to her seat and pushed her chair in. He smoothed his tie then walked back to his seat never taking his eyes off her.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” she said in that soft sing-song voice of hers.
“No, beautiful. I’d wait longer to see you.”
The corner of her mouth inched up and a spark of mi
schief flamed beneath her brown irises, rendered amber by the flames of the centerpiece candle. “That’s so sweet.”
Another server arrived pouring her a glass of wine he had ordered just for her. He sipped his scotch, and leaned back in his chair to study her. “So how was your day?”
“Eventful. We have a lot going on, a big showing in a few weeks and an archaeologist who is now conveniently ignoring me. But other than that it was good. How was yours?”