“Hey, Boo,” Ori said gently, knowing her brother’s moods were erratic.
“Hey, funny face,” he said and sighed. “It’s good to hear from you. When are you coming back?”
Ori’s heart twisted. “Sweetie, I—”
“No, sorry, don’t answer that. I don’t want you to come back yet, I’m sorry. I’m just a little down today”
“Have you been taking your meds?”
“Like I promised, sis. You heard from Dad?”
Ori grimaced. “No. Not a word”
“Have you seen the latest then? On the news? Some more women are coming forward. Seems Papa really can’t keep it in his pants”
AJ’s voice was so dead, flat, and lifeless Ori could have cried. That his father didn’t give a crap about Ori was one thing—that he ignored his only child was unforgivable. ’Look, Boo, I can come back whenever and bust you out of there” She tried to make a joke out of it, and she heard AJ give a soft chuckle.
“You know, sis? Here was a good idea. This place, I mean. It is helping, obviously, some days more than others—but I do feel at last like I’m getting my head clear”
Ori gave a sigh of relief. “That is good news. Look, when I come back, we’re going to go someplace where he can’t touch us. I promise”
“That sounds like a plan”
When she ended the call, she felt calmer. AJ was making progress, and that was all that mattered now. Her younger half-brother was the love of her life, and she knew she would do anything to protect him. When he’d been diagnosed as having bipolar disorder at fourteen, Ori had been beside herself, terrified that he would kill himself with drugs or alcohol. Pinegap Rehabilitation Center was only the latest in a long chain of rehab places, but he seemed to be thriving there—most days. She hoped Tyson would stay away.
Just keep paying the bills and leave him alone, she thought to herself now. She considered, and then burrowed in her bag for her other phone, the one whose number Tyson would call her on. She kept it mostly off, unless AJ was unreachable. Then she turned it on in case of emergency.
Out of sheer masochism, she turned it on now. Her voicemail was full. Cursing herself, she listening to a few of the messages, all from Tyson. Some of them were rants about her disloyalty; others were disgustingly lewd. The latest were short and sweet. “Where the fuck are you, Orianthi? Do you think you can hide from me?”
She deleted every last one of them and then cursed. Why did she do that? It was evidence. “Dumb, stupid girl,” she snarled at herself, then stopped. Evidence. Was she that convinced that one day she would need evidence against him? Fuck, she was messed up.
She pushed the thought away and went to make some dinner for Lucia. She had bought fresh ingredients for seafood linguine, and as she cooked, she could feel all the tension leach out of her. She chopped, diced, and steamed, and by the time Lucia got home from work, there were two plates piled high with pasta. Lucia swooned over the hot, buttery food, garlicky ciabatta on the side to soak up the creamy sauce.
“You are wasted as an art curator,” Lucia told Ori afterward when they sat outside on the balcony with a half-empty bottle of wine between them. “You should retrain as a chef”
“Ha.” Ori smiled, “One good dish doesn’t make a chef”
They chatted easily and then Ori, not being able to help herself from talking about him, mentioned she had seen Maceo out on one of the islands. Lucia rolled her eyes.
“I wondered where he’d gotten to. I had buyers waiting. He seemed very pleased with himself when he got back. I hope it wasn’t awkward”
“Not at all. You’re right, though. He’s trouble with a capital ‘T’”
“Big, big trouble,” Lucia agreed, then stared at her. “Oh god, you haven’t got a crush, have you? Because he’ll trample all over your heart if you let him”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I don’t know the man”
“Who needs to know a man when he looks like Maceo?”
“Sounds like I’m not the one with the crush” Ori chuckled at her friend’s horror-stricken face.
“That is not what I meant, Orianthi, and you know it. But I’m not blind, I can see that the man is delicious. He’s just too sure of himself”
Ori tapped Lucia’s wineglass with her own. “That’s what I think”
But later, in bed, she allowed herself to fantasize about what it would be like to be fucked by such a man. She imagined his lips against hers, her hand sliding down to his groin, feeling the hot length of his cock through the fabric of his pants, his fingers pulling at her panties, his cock gliding into her. Ori couldn’t help rubbing her clit, imagining it was his tongue lashing around it, and she dreamed herself to orgasm, burying her face in her pillow to muffle her cries.
Just like every time she came though, afterward the tears would come, the release of tension too much for her, and she sobbed quietly until she fell into an uneasy sleep.
“You’re still here”
Alex was surprised. Benoit and Lisander had already flown home to Paris and Buenos Aires respectively, but Alex had stayed to hang out with Maceo. Now he saw that Seth was at the table too. The tall Canadian smiled at him.
“I was persuaded to stay another night,” he said, nodding at a grinning Maceo.
“Just one more quiet meal with friends,” Maceo explained. “But sadly, Ben and Sander had to work. The never-ending toil,” he said dramatically, and the other two laughed. Maceo was undoubtedly the joker of their group, but Alex knew that sometimes his friends, the stoic Ben especially, found him a little too much.
Tonight, however, he was in good form. “I must tell you, friends. I believe I have finally met my match”
“Ha,” Seth snorted. “I’ll believe it when I see it”
“No, no, really. This girl is special”
“They all are until you fuck them,’ Alex said dryly.
Maceo threw up his hands, but laughed. “You have a fair point, my friend, but no. This one … she has something else. She will not be so easily had”
“Oh, she is different,” Seth nodded sagely. “… she has taste”
Maceo laughed, taking the ribbing in good heart. All three friends enjoyed the meal, joking and laughing. It wasn’t until they were leaving the restaurant that the conversation turned serious.
Maceo looked at Alex steadily. “Alex, my brother … will you be okay? Seth told me this morning that the figlio di puttana who killed Viola is still out there?”
Alex nodded, his eyes clouding over. “A part of me wants to find him first, so I can end this the way Viola deserves … ”
He gathered himself as his two friends looked at him sympathetically. “I’m sorry, guys. I’ll get to the bottom of it, I swear I will”
Later, Maceo himself drove both Alex and Seth to the airport. Hugging them goodbye, he made them a promise. “We will meet soon, again, yes?”
As he made his way back to the car, his attention was caught by a man in a long dark coat and sunglasses getting into a long black limousine. Sunglasses at night?
Maceo grinned to himself. “What are you hiding from?” He soon forgot about the man, channeling his thoughts more pleasurably into his latest project. Orianthi Roy. He could not stop thinking about her, to the point where he had actually called Lucia into his office earlier that day and asked her about her friend.
“You leave that girl alone,” Lucia had said immediately. “She is not one of your conquests”
Maceo grinned now. No. Not yet. But he hadn’t said that to Lucia. Out of all his colleagues, she was the one he was actually wary of—probably because she was amazing at her job and had turned him down flat when he’d tried his usual shtick on her first day at the gallery.
“That,” she had said bluntly, grabbing his cock through his jeans, “isn’t going to get anywhere near me. It does not interest me. Now—” she had released him. “Can we get back to work?”
Maceo laughed out loud now. He honestly could not imagine his business w
ithout Lucia. So could he risk her friendship just for the sake of fucking Orianthi?
For once, Maceo knew he would have to tread very, very carefully. If only he could stop thinking about Ori’s lush curves or her pink, warm mouth ...
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I can always tell Johnny I can’t make it this weekend”
Ori rolled her eyes at her friend. Lucia’s boyfriend, a racecar driver, had called at the last minute, asking Lucia to fly to Monaco to see him. Ori could tell she was excited. “I’ll be fine as long as you don’t mind me pretending that this amazing place is my own for a week”
Lucia laughed. “Not at all. I know you, Miss Homemaker. I’ll come back to brand new drapes and exquisitely crafted baked goods like in college. God, doesn’t that seem a million years ago?”
“It does” Ori followed Lucia into her bedroom and sat on the bed while she packed. “I found this great little café today, overlooking the lagoon. It’s quiet, and I can write there. Lucia, this city is growing on me, I have to say. As well as the obvious beauty of the place, I like the people and the serenity”
“Ha.” Lucia snorted from the depths of her closet, “Wait until it’s Carnevale time. Then you’ll change your mind” She dragged a huge suitcase out of her closet and opened it. “Eww, is that a mouse?”
Ori peered in. “No, it’s half an ear muff, you loon” She threw it at a relieved Lucia. “How’s the Bartoli Bonefest going to cope without you for a week? Rich boy’s going to have to get his own coffee”
Ori grinned at her friend as Lucia tried to look disapproving. “You are so mean”
“Haven’t you been the one to warn me away from him?”
“Just because I don’t want a nice girl like you to get hurt by Maceo doesn’t mean I’m not very fond of him. Under all the bullshit … well, let’s just say I think still waters run deep”
Ori was surprised, but didn’t say anything else. She’d spent the past few nights dreaming of Maceo Bartoli; if nothing else, he helped the nightmares stay away.
Lucia left a couple of hours later, with hugs and kisses and promises to call. And then Ori was truly alone. She felt weird banging around in the big apartment by herself and, since it was too early to call AJ, she decided to take her computer and go do some writing.
She went to the small café she had discovered and ordered coffee and gelato. Opening her computer, she launched her browser and checked the news in the States. Her stepfather was front page news again. Ori ignored the gnawing terror that Tyson Janek’s handsome face gave her every time she saw it, and read through the story. More women coming forward with sexual assault claims. God, the man was a monster. Her eyes scanned the rest of the story, stopping when she saw her name mentioned.
“There are few people in this world whom I trust,” Janek told a press conference, “but I know I can count on the support of my daughter, Orianthi, and my son, Adam James. They are the closest people to me” The congressman appeared emotional. “I love them with all my heart; they truly are the best of me.”
“Motherfucker …” Ori whispered to herself. God, he really was repellent. How much would it shock the world now to find out he was a rapist scumbag? Janek was entirely responsible for AJ’s staggering lack of confidence and his depression. Ori was angrier for AJ than for herself—AJ was Janek’s biological son, for chrissakes. She slammed the lid of her laptop down—a little too hard—and took a deep breath in. AJ is safe and well away from him and so are you, Orianthi. So are you.
She finished her coffee and settled down to work on her project. It was near dusk when she looked up from her work. She stretched and packed up her stuff. Home, a bath, food, and a good book. Sounds like the perfect evening. She was smiling to herself as she walked back slowly through the city. Her cell phone rang just as she reached the apartment. Lucia.
“Sweetie, I’m so sorry to ask you this,” Lucia sounded panicked, “but Maceo is having a meltdown. One of his customers is saying a painting Maceo sold him is fake. Is there any chance you could go the gallery and help him out?”
Ori saw her perfect evening go up in smoke. “Of course, honey. Don’t panic. I’m not a hundred percent sure what I can do though. I’m not an expert …’
“That’s the thing … Ori, we have this happen to us all the time, and when it does, I usually act the part of the art expert. Most of the time it works, and we don’t have to fly our real expert in from Geneva. So, if you could, you know, pretend …”
Ori started to laugh. “You are kidding me, right?”
Lucia chuckled. “I wish I was”
Ori sighed. “No problem. Look, if I’m going to look the part, can I borrow your work clothes? I can’t show up in jeans”
“Of course, anything you need. Thanks, Ori, I owe you one”
That was how, forty-five minutes later, Ori, dressed in a black skirt and jacket with her hair pulled back into a severe bun and her spectacles perched on her nose, marched into Maceo Bartoli’s gallery. She was gratified to see Maceo’s eyes open wide in surprise and saw him suppress a smile. He turned to the middle-aged man, who was eyeing Ori both suspiciously and appreciatively. Ori knew immediately that this would be easy.
In less than a half hour, the man went away that satisfied his painting was the original (It was. Ori, knew an original Kahlo when she saw it.) and Maceo was grinning broadly as he poured them some drinks in his office.
He handed her a flute of champagne. “Thank you, Ori”
“Anything to help Lucia,” she said smoothly but with a grin, and he laughed. He indicated her suit.
“That works”
She rolled her eyes. “If you have a secretary fetish, keep it to yourself”
Maceo shrugged good-naturedly. “Fair enough. But seriously, thank you. Man, you’d think my reputation alone would be enough to convince these people that I don’t trade in counterfeit goods, but there it is”
Ori considered. “Mr. Bartoli … I’m just guessing. Some of these men who come back to your gallery angry and bitter … would they happen to have attractive wives?”
Maceo’s grin was wide and completely unrepentant, and Ori had to laugh. “Oh, you really are a man-whore. Glad to help, Maceo, but next time, keep your pecker in your pants”
She got up to leave, but Maceo put up his hands. “Wait, before you go … Lucia tells me you’ve become fond of our city”
Ori sat down again. “I have. It’s beautiful and restful and serene”
Maceo laughed. “Not during Carnevale”
Ori grinned. “That’s what Lucia said. What’s your point?”
Maceo sat back. Ori tried not to look at the open neck of his shirt or the swarthy skin of his chest. “I want to offer you a job, Ori. I need a curator to work ahead of our current schedule and line up exhibits months, even years, in the future. You have contacts at MOMA and the Guggenheim, right?”
Ori nodded, her interest piqued. “All of the big guns, plus a lot of the small galleries”
“Contacts like those are invaluable” Maceo sighed, his handsome face serious for once. “Ori, we put together the exhibition we have now by the skin of our teeth. We simply don’t have the time to fill our schedule at the moment, which means we miss out on the best pieces. I need someone like you, not just for the big names but as a scout finding new talent, as well as negotiating with galleries worldwide”
Ori was speechless for a moment. Maceo Bartoli, whether he knew it or not, had just described her dream job. Actually, dream job didn’t even begin to cover it. And this man, this charming, gorgeous, yet completely untrustworthy man, was offering it to her right here, right now.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Forgive me for asking … you know if I work for you that there’s even less a chance of me sleeping with you, right?”
For a moment, she wished she could take back the words because maybe, just maybe, she saw a little hurt in his eyes. But a second later Maceo smiled, and the cocky businessman was back.
�
�So does that mean that until you start work for me, there is a chance?”
Ori couldn’t help but chuckle at him. “Absolutely none. Can I think about the job?”
Maceo smiled. “Of course. May I at least take you to dinner to say thank you for tonight?”
God, it was tempting, but if she let him wine and dine her, there was no way she’d be able to resist that smile, that body, those green, green eyes …
“I can’t. But thank you”
He nodded. “Then let me call you a water taxi”
He kissed her hand before she got into the water taxi and, as she was driven away through the canals, she looked back toward the dock. He was still there, watching her. He raised his hand and, unthinkingly, Ori did the same. Before she even made it back to her apartment, she knew she would tell him yes to the job.
And not just because it was her dream job.
Ori never saw the man in the shadows outside the apartment. He watched her go in and lock the door after herself. Then, as lights came on in the first-floor window, he smiled to himself. He walked a little down the street so he could not be seen or heard if she came out onto the balcony. He hoped she would—the girl was a looker, all right.
He pulled his cell phone out. “It’s me. Yeah. You can tell him it’s confirmed. His stepdaughter is in Venice, as we thought. What does he want me to do?” He listened carefully and began to smile. “Yeah, okay. Twenty-four hours”
He shut off his phone and stared up at the balcony. “Come on, Juliet. Show Romeo something here”
He grinned as Ori, now changed into a slouchy sweater and pajama pants, stepped out onto the balcony, a cup of steaming tea in her hands. Her dark hair tumbled over her shoulders. The observer felt his groin tighten. No wonder Janek wanted her found.
He almost felt sorry for the girl. He was absolutely sure that Janek didn’t have good things planned for this little beauty. Not good things at all.
Ori leaned her hot forehead against the cool tiles of the shower. The water spray was hot against her skin, but she barely felt it, concentrated as she was on imagining Maceo Bartoli’s hands where hers were now between her legs, relentlessly massaging her clit until her vision exploded with stars and she gasped through her orgasm. She panted for air, reveling in the sensation.
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