"He's man enough to go around." Stella ran one finger down her clingy short dress. "We texted him last night that we'd be in town."
Francesca felt the burn of tears. She'd been with Stefano and his phone had gone off so many times. Not once had she paid attention. Not once had she suspected women had been texting or calling him.
Doreen's laughter was a mere tinkle that irritated Francesca. "We sent him a few pictures of what he could look forward to." Again the three women exchanged a long sultry look and then burst into laughter.
That meant Stefano had their pictures on his phone. Francesca could well imagine what those pictures were like. The room was suddenly far too hot. Her lungs felt raw, burning, unable to drag in enough air. Her stomach churned and she pressed her hands tight to it, afraid she might throw up right there in front of all three of them.
The smile had died on Joanna's face. She looked as if she'd been struck. She had fantasies about the Ferraro brothers and it didn't include finding out they weren't husband material.
Emmanuelle sighed. "When are the three of you going to get some pride? Stefano made it very clear that he was done with you last year. He doesn't date. He doesn't have relationships. That was made clear to you. Quit stalking him. That's what it's called when you won't leave him alone."
"How do you know we haven't seen him in a year?" Stella sneered. "He wouldn't want to tell his little sister what he's been getting all this time."
Francesca wanted to cover her ears. Could the evening get any worse? She didn't think so. She needed to get out of there. Now. She looked around, trying to find a way to escape. Why had she believed she had a chance with Stefano? Could she have been any more ridiculous? She'd wanted to cling to him because he made her feel safe. Beautiful. Sexy. Wanted. Lord, but he could make her feel wanted.
"That's so disgusting. He doesn't want you, any of you, and certainly not the three of you together." Emmanuelle poured contempt into her voice. She took a sip of her drink, looking more elegant than ever.
Suddenly the three women didn't look nearly as beautiful and sophisticated as Francesca had first thought. They looked . . . skanky.
"You have no idea of his needs in the bedroom," Doreen spat out, pure venom in her eyes. "You think you're so high and mighty, Emmanuelle--you always have. We know what Stefano likes and we give it to him."
Joanna's gasp was audible. Doreen swung on her. "That's right, Miss Mouse. Stefano is an adult, all male. Pure male. You could never hope to understand a man like that. None of you could." She turned, whipping her hair around, and stormed down the steps, her two bandmates following.
Emmanuelle let out her breath in a little hiss of anger. "Well, that was unpleasant." She leaned toward Francesca again. "You can't believe the things they're saying about my brother. They just aren't true."
"Of course they're true," Francesca said. "I saw his picture with each of them. He was with them. He had sex with them. There's no taking that back, and last night when I was with Stefano, his phone kept going off. He would look at it, sometimes text and other times he'd shove it in his pocket. I thought he was getting requests for his help like he always does, but instead he was getting naked sex pictures." She was ashamed of the little sob in her voice. "I have to get out of here."
Emmanuelle put her hand on Francesca's arm, staying her mad dash for freedom. "Don't. At least talk to Stefano before you run. He deserves that much, doesn't he?"
Francesca took a deep breath, her every instinct telling her to run while she could. Once Stefano was close to her, every brain cell she had seemed to short-circuit. She shook her head and picked up her drink again.
"I've got to attend a quick meeting," Emmanuelle said with a little scowl. "I'll send Stefano to you as fast as I can. I tell them meetings need to be conducted outside the club," she added, trying to interject humor into the situation. "Inside is for fun. Drink and dance. You know, those fun things. I don't think my brothers understand the concept." Emmanuelle shook her head and drifted away.
Rigina threw her head back and laughed. "They think the only form of fun is a hot, willing babe."
Francesca couldn't stop her reaction to Rigina's casual--but obviously true--remark. She stiffened, her fingers curling around the glass she held.
"Francesca." Rosina's voice was gentle, with an undercurrent of anxiety. "My sister didn't mean anything by that. I hope you weren't offended."
Francesca threw her a casual smile that she knew didn't reach her eyes. She took a longer drink. The combination of the ingredients always warmed her stomach and made her blood sing. She let the feeling sweep through her, wanting to get away from Stefano's cousins and the implication in Rigina's statement. They could try to take away the sting all they wanted, but she'd read the tabloids. She'd seen all the pictures of his women. So many of them. Tall. Beautiful. The thought of Stefano with them made her feel sick. Now she'd met them, and that made her even sicker, thinking of the things the three women were implying.
She wasn't experienced or sophisticated. She didn't belong in his crowd. Or with his family. She turned to Joanna with a bright, false smile. "You ready to dance? The music's calling."
Joanna had barely touched her drink and looked up, clearly to protest, but she took one look at Francesca's face and immediately stood up. "Can't wait." She flashed her brilliant smile at Mario. "You coming or you want to drink a little first?"
"I came to dance, woman. I'm with you all the way," Mario said, endearing him to Francesca. He was so the right man for Joanna.
"Francesca . . ." Rigina protested.
Francesca drank the rest of the Moscow Mule, and this time her smile bordered on desperate, but she couldn't help it. "No worries, I'm great. I love to dance and the music is calling. If the waitress comes back will you order me another drink please?" Still smiling brightly she led the way down the steps to the crowded dance floor.
She didn't want to think about anything at all. She found the rhythm of the music and let it transport her like it always had, to another place. The alcohol pounded through her veins, heating her from the inside out. There was only her body and the music. Nothing else. No one else. No Stefano with his gorgeous body and smoldering sensuality that made her so incredibly hungry for him she couldn't think straight when she was around him.
Two songs later, she became of aware of a man joining them. He seemed to know both Joanna and Mario, slapping him on the back and greeting Joanna with a kiss. He looked toward Francesca expectantly.
"My friend Dominic," Mario said loudly, trying to be heard above the music. "Dominic, our friend Francesca."
Dominic grinned at her, his body moving in close, matching the rhythm of hers with ease. She recognized a trained dancer when she saw one, probably in Latin and ballroom as she'd been. He leaned toward her, one hand sliding onto her hip. Just barely there, but connecting them. "You know how to dance."
She was pleased that someone actually recognized that she could. She nodded, barely able to hear him over the pounding music. He immediately reached for her hand and took her through a series of salsa steps. The music was fast but the beat was perfect for a salsa. She matched him no problem and he instantly took her close to his body, moving her into more intricate and very sexy steps. She lost herself like she always did, the music flowing through her, her body giving itself up to the beat.
Dominic's lead was confident and strong, just the kind she preferred in a partner, and she moved with him, even when the music slowed and he drew her close into a tight frame. He was a couple of inches taller than she was and he bent his head close to speak directly in her ear.
"You're very good. I haven't had a dance partner like you ever. Where in the world did Mario and Joanna find you?"
She tried not to stiffen. She didn't like personal questions. "Joanna and I went to school together."
His hand slid down her waist to the curve of her hip. She felt that slide and it sent alarm bells ringing as he tightened his hold on her.
"
My lucky night," he observed, his hand sliding lower until it rested right on the cheek of her butt.
She dropped her own hand and moved his. "You don't know me that well."
He laughed softly. "Not yet, but I intend to."
Emilio loomed over his shoulder, looking grim. Huge. Unhappy. He tapped Dominic on the shoulder and jerked his thumb off to the side. Dominic instantly looked angry, but he stepped away from Emilio.
Francesca turned into Emilio's arms, smiling up at him, relieved in spite of the fact that she knew why he was there. He moved his foot and stepped right onto hers. She bit back a sharp little cry of pain and made a face at him until he realized what he'd done and lifted his big foot away. He didn't dance, just swayed. It was a far cry from the man who had so perfectly matched steps with her.
"Is there a reason you interrupted my perfectly wonderful dance with that gentleman, or did you just want to step all over my feet?" She had to look up at him and raise her voice over the music. The rhythm was slower, and a little mellower, but it was still loud.
Emilio leaned down, very close, putting his mouth against her ear. He actually hissed his disapproval. "For fuck's sake, Francesca, are you trying to get someone killed? What are thinking, dancing with another man?"
Francesca matched his scowl. "What other man? I danced with one man and he was a superb dancer. You cut in and stepped on my toes. I don't want to hurt your feelings or anything, but I prefer his dancing style to yours."
Without warning, a hard hand shackled her wrist and Stefano yanked her away from Emilio and into his arms. "What did I tell you about other men touching you?" he snapped.
She glared at him, struggling to put an inch or two between their bodies, but it was impossible. The more she fought to get free, the tighter he held her.
"Stop fighting me or we're going to have a very public scene. There are paparazzi in here and I can guarantee we're already on their radar."
His anger was palatable. Intense. Surrounding her with heat and fire. Still, as upset with him as she was, her body reacted, flooding her with need. She kept her face down, refusing to look at him even when she subsided, forcing herself to relax into the warmth of his body.
"Now tell me what the fuck you thought you were doing."
Even with her giving him what he wanted and letting him hold her close, his anger hadn't lessened in the least. That spiked her own temper. "I wasn't arranging to have sex with three men, if that's what you thought. Your little harem is here, waiting for you."
"Damn it, Francesca, we talked about this. I can't change who I fucked. I told you that was in the past and you have to accept that, because as much as I would like to have been different, I'm not a magician. There isn't any taking it back."
"Is that what you like? What they said? All three of them at once?" She hissed the query through clenched teeth, her heart pounding out of control.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
There was a long silence while the music hammered at them. Created a cocoon of pure heat. His anger swamped her, but it only served to make her hotter. Her body felt liquid, breasts aching for his touch, nipples hard, pushing against the material of the dress in an effort to get closer to him. The junction between her legs was on fire, her clit pulsing with the beat of the music and absolute hunger. She knew her thong was already damp with hunger for him. She hated that she couldn't control her needs with him. He was angry, and that just added fuel to the growing fire in her.
"Is that what you think of me? That I would need three women at once to satisfy me? Is that really what you think of me, Francesca?" His voice was low. Furious. A whip that struck at her with more force than a leather one would have.
She inhaled sharply and drew him deep into her lungs, her face remaining pressed tightly to his jacket, right over his heart.
His hand came up under her chin and pried her loose. "Fucking look at me, dolce cuore. Now. I'm not fucking around with you."
Two F-bombs in under a second. He was more than furious. She had no choice but to lift her chin, but she kept her eyes childishly shut tight, afraid if she looked at him, she'd be lost. She was more hurt than she'd realized, hating that the other women had had him before her.
"Look at me." With an effort he softened his voice, but it was still every bit as commanding. Impossible to disobey. "Open your eyes and look at me."
She bit down hard on her lower lip and lifted her lashes until her gaze met his piercing blue one. His eyes had darkened into a vibrant, intense color that screamed danger. Once she locked gazes with him, she couldn't look away. Her heart pounded harder than ever. Her stomach did a slow somersault. Deep inside her core, her muscles spasmed and then clenched hard in reaction.
"Do you really think I play with three women at the same time, Francesca?"
There was a promise of retaliation in his voice. Instead of scaring her, as it should have, she felt shaky with need--with hunger that seemed to be growing out of control. Of course he was going to force her to answer. Slow color stained her cheeks.
"No." Her voice was low. Ashamed. "It was just that they were so smug. They said they sent you pictures last night . . ." She trailed off.
"I deleted them the moment they came in and I didn't bother to reply to them. I haven't seen any of the three of them since last year nor have I intended to do so. Had I known they intended to show up here tonight, I would have banned them from the club. They invited me to go to Texas to meet them and I said no."
His anger hadn't abated at all, she could tell by the lines around his mouth and the set to his jaw. Abruptly he caught her hand and took her through the crowd, almost dragging her, uncaring of her high heels. Fortunately, the crowd opened up for him, even there in the dark on the dance floor, allowing them through easily.
Stefano took her toward the back of the club, going between two of the bars to the shadowy alcove where a door led to offices. The alcove was very dark and she knew the shadows enclosed them in their own private world. She shivered, knowing she shouldn't be alone with him. Not now. Not when he was so angry and she was needy.
He walked her backward until she came up against the wall and she couldn't move another inch. His body crowded hers until there wasn't enough room to slide a piece of paper between them, until she felt the imprint of his heavy muscles on her breasts and hips.
He tipped her chin up, forcing her eyes to meet his. "I'm going to spell this out for you, Francesca, using plain fucking English so there aren't any misunderstandings. I'm not fucking around with you. I'm telling you straight up that I want a relationship with you, a permanent one. Exclusive. You and me. No one else. No other women for me. No other men for you. I want to settle down and have a family with you. I know you're still getting used to the idea and that's all right. I'll give you time. But that doesn't mean another man puts his fucking hands on you. He doesn't get to hold you in his arms and feel your body up against his. Not. Ever."
"I danced, Stefano. I like to dance. I don't understand why you would be angry. You were busy, and I danced with him. I wouldn't go out with him. I'm not attracted to him. I'm not a cheater. I knew we were both considering a relationship, although honestly, it's moved so fast for me it's hard to believe it's real."
He leaned down, his arms suddenly around her, yanking her hard against his body. "You aren't listening to me. I will not tolerate another man putting his hands on you any more than I would expect you to tolerate another woman putting her hands on me. It's dangerous, Francesca. Dangerous to whatever dumb fuck thinks he has the right to rub his body up against yours. I saw his hand on your ass. That ass belongs to me. No other man puts his hand there. When I saw that, I wanted to kill him. I needed to kill him. I live in a world of violence and now, so do you. You don't want to put me in that position any more than I would put you there. That's all I'm going to say on this. I don't argue. This is your one and only warning."
She blinked up at him. "You're serious."
"Dead serious."
She moved s
ubtly, trying to pull away from him without seeming to do so. Subtle didn't work. His arms became steel bands, locking her to him, and he leaned his weight against her so that it was impossible to move. The air around them was heavy with his anger. A little shiver of fear went down her spine. Not just fear. Still, impossibly, she felt safe in his arms. She realized that along with that spurt of trepidation, there was a dark, sensual excitement she couldn't deny.
"You don't hurt women." She made it a statement because she had to believe it was true. She knew lies when she heard them; she also knew honesty. He spoke the truth about wanting to kill Dominic, but his anger was directed at her. Still, his hands on her didn't hurt, not in the least. He could be rough, but he wasn't violent with women.
"No. I don't." He left it at that.
Could she accept him just the way he was? Like this? Darkly sensual? A man used to violence? A man she really knew nothing at all about? She knew she was already lost, too far gone, so attracted to him physically, the chemistry so intense she could barely think with wanting him. Her sense of self-preservation was gone. She should have asked questions, demanded answers.
Francesca moistened her lips. "All right, Stefano."
"'All right'? What the fuck does that mean?"
"It means you can stop using such foul language and take a breath. I won't dance with another man. I won't let another man touch me. I wouldn't like it if you were dancing with another woman, so even though it was perfectly innocent I understand what you're saying. On the other hand, there isn't any need to be dramatic and talk about danger, violence or killing. You wouldn't really hurt another man just because he danced with me." She wasn't so certain that was true, but she wanted it to be.
He shook his head, some of the dark anger dissipating. "Bambina, you're such an innocent. He wasn't dancing with you. He was trying to get into your lacy little thong panties. His hand was on your ass."
"I moved his hand back to my waist immediately."
"Which is why the fucker is still alive. The only man who touches your ass or your panties is going to be me. Ever." His hand slid down her hip to her bare thigh, fingers caressing her skin. "This dress doesn't look the same on you as it did on that mannequin."
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