She produced chandelier earrings dripping with diamonds and a matching necklace. They felt cool against her skin, and when she looked in the mirror she was shocked at how beautiful she appeared. She had to blink back tears. Ricco had given that to her as well. She never would have considered herself beautiful if he hadn't made her see herself that way.
She might have protested the diamonds, but she knew he was referring to his Shibari--no--their Shibari. He was talking to her the way he had with his ropes. Telling her he loved her, and she heard every word. She refused to dwell one moment longer in her past. She hoped he heard her when she told him back.
She didn't ask questions, but let Francesca and Emmanuelle get her ready. They spent time getting ready and then the limousine was there to pick them up. Enzo was driving and he whistled softly as she was escorted out. Stefano was already inside and he smiled at her as Emilio handed her in.
"You look beautiful, Mariko," he greeted.
"Thank you. You look quite handsome in that tuxedo." He did. Ferraro men were made for suits.
"Are you ready for this? He's railroading you."
"You're helping."
He laughed. "Of course I'm helping him. You don't think I'm going to chance the best thing he's ever had in his life getting away from him, do you?"
"Your family is the best thing that ever happened to him, Stefano. Maybe within that family, it's you. You're the one who gave your siblings that closeness."
Francesca and Emmanuelle had both slipped into the limousine as well. "You got that right," Emmanuelle agreed, flashing a loving smile at her brother. "Of course, he's terribly bossy."
Stefano's eyebrows shot up. "Bossy isn't the same thing as boss."
"You're both," Francesca and Emmanuelle said in unison.
Even Emilio smirked a little at that. Mariko looked down at her hands. She felt the love in the vehicle, emanating from the others. Even Stefano's cousins. She was part of that circle because they'd made room for her. The brothers treated her just as they did Francesca and Emmanuelle, as if she were the most precious treasure in all the world. It was a little disconcerting after she'd been ignored, beaten or shamed for her entire life. Some days she wasn't certain how to respond so she stayed very quiet.
After realizing that her depression and grief over losing her brother were keeping her from enjoying what she had, she was determined to grab life with both hands. Every single day with Ricco would be a miracle to her. She knew she loved him and she believed he loved her. She knew there would be doubts, she was conditioned to doubt herself, but she would use the ropes to stop the voices, just as Ricco did.
She should have asked where they were going. She didn't because it hadn't mattered--until she got there. She thought a small ceremony, just the family. It was a church, and not only the family but half or more than half the people living and working in the Ferraro territory were seated, waiting for the bride. She knew because she peeked out the door where she waited with Stefano, Emmanuelle and Francesca. She should have known. They were so loyal to the Ferraros, going so far as to try to defend them when they were under attack. It stood to reason that the family would invite them. She recognized Nicoletta, Lucia and Amo near the front, right behind the family pew. Signora Moretti was there as well. That was all she recognized in the sea of faces because she began to feel a little faint.
She was a woman of the shadows, not just when she was working but when she was home. She tried to disappear into corners, not be in the spotlight. She didn't know if she could follow through and walk out there, even under Stefano's protection. She shut the door and leaned against it, fighting for air.
"He invited everyone."
Emmanuelle nodded, going to her side to urge her to sit. Francesca brought her a glass of water. "Our cousins from New York are here, that's why the church seems so full. We have a lot of family. We wanted all the cousins to know you."
She knew why. They were all close and they protected one another, unlike the family she grew up in. "I need him."
"He can't see you before the wedding," Francesca protested.
"I need him right now," Mariko said, desperate. If he didn't get there, she didn't know what she would do. Run? She'd never humiliate him that way, but she might faint, or worse, throw up on her way down the aisle to him. "Please go get him."
Stefano slipped out the door, and Mariko counted her heartbeats until Ricco came in. He looked a little wary, as if she might be about to tell him she was going to run, but he went straight to her. She stood and he gasped, his eyes moving over her. Something in her settled at the look on his face. She had no idea how he had come to love her so much, but she not only saw the intensity in the naked emotion on his face, she felt it as well.
"Dio, farfallina mia, you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
He believed that, too. She let her breath out, not realizing she'd been holding it, waiting for him. "I needed to see you. I know it's supposed to be bad luck before the wedding, but . . ." She trailed off. She didn't know exactly what she needed from him or why, only that it was imperative or she couldn't walk out of the safety of the room.
He smiled, and his smile was gorgeous. He took the step separating them and pulled her into his arms. He smelled like Ricco. Wonderful. Familiar. Hers.
"Don't kiss her, you goof," Emmanuelle ordered. "You'll mess up her makeup."
His finger slid down the nape of her neck, a gesture that always steadied her. That's what she needed. To know she was his. That she belonged. That he thought her strong and confident as a woman, just as she was as a rider.
"Emme, don't you have more lipstick? You're killing me here. Look at her. Don't you want to kiss her?"
"Well, of course, just not quite in the same way," Emmanuelle replied, her voice droll.
Mariko burst out laughing. "I'm fine now. Go wait for me."
"That's it? You're okay now?" His eyes searched her face.
She nodded. "I just needed to see you. To know."
He understood. "You should always know. Now that I've seen you in that dress, you know every second of the reception is going to be hell."
The reception was hell. Every touch, every look. The dances. The slow music while he held her in his arms, her body moving in perfect rhythm with his. She loved dancing with him. Loved it. Being in his arms and floating across the floor together was an experience she never thought she'd have. She didn't know too much about dancing, but he was extremely good at guiding her every move.
"I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that grieving for Ryuu when he didn't love me, when he conspired to help Osamu kill all of us, me, you, your entire family, even Nao, was ridiculous." Even saying it still hurt. Her brother. Her one family member wanted her dead, refused to even acknowledge a connection between them.
"Don't apologize, Mariko. You loved him. There's nothing wrong with your feelings for him. You loved him all these years, just as you should have. He's the one who was poisoned." He brushed her mouth gently with his.
The touch of his lips against hers sent butterflies winging through her stomach. She knew she'd always feel that way just looking at him.
"I'm just sorry it took so long to come to the realization of what I had in my life."
He whirled her out of danger when another couple came too close. "The truth is, amore, I would wait a lifetime for you."
There was honesty in his voice and it set her heart beating double time. She had a family. A man who loved her. It was everything she'd ever wanted. They danced the evening away, Mariko feeling like a fairy princess. The limousine took them home. She loved the sight of their house, the high fence and iron gates surrounding the extensive gardens.
"I can't wait to get you inside," Ricco said.
The sensual lines carved deep in his face took her breath. She felt as if she'd been waiting a lifetime, her body so sensitive and ready for his. She was grateful she wasn't alone in the way she was feeling.
He held her hand into the hou
se as if he thought she might run from him. He led her straight to the elevator to the second floor instead of taking the stairs. In the elevator, he began slipping the long row of pearl buttons down her back from their loops. She loved that he was so focused on getting her out of her dress that he stopped in the hallway to finish, encouraging her to step out of the lace concoction. Mariko did so, standing in the hall in her ivory lace, barely there, thong and garters, high heels and stockings. He unsnapped her matching bra at the door of the master bedroom, leaving her breasts bare.
"We're flying out of here for our honeymoon in the morning," he promised. "We own an island and we can have it all to ourselves. I won't mind imposing a no-clothes rule."
"I'll just bet you won't." She held her breath, waiting.
He turned his head and looked at their bed, dripping with rose petals and covered in bundles of rope of all colors and textures. She was talking to him. Telling him she loved him and she needed his Shibari to ground her as much as he needed it.
Ricco reached for her, pulling her close to him. "You're certain?"
"Absolutely. I realized we both need it. You've been capturing our journey together on film, and this is our wedding night. We should have at least one picture, even if it's simple." She hoped he knew what she was saying to him. He'd spent the last month pounding the heavy bag when he needed relief from his demons. She'd gone to the tea house out in the Japanese garden. Shibari joined them together in their struggles.
"It makes me stronger, Ricco. I realized I need it as much as you do."
He draped her dress across the bed, the rose petals all around it. He placed three coils of rope near the ivory lace and then her bra over one of the coils of rope.
"You already know what you want to do."
"Get ready."
His voice was that voice, the one she had become so familiar with. She nodded and headed for the bathroom, excitement coursing through her. She couldn't wait to see how he tied her. Already her sex was hot, clenching and so damp. She knew her wedding night was going to be spectacular, and then she had the honeymoon to look forward to . . .
Keep reading for an excerpt from the new GhostWalker novel by Christine Feehan
POWER GAME
Now available from Berkley
Bellisia Adams stared at herself in the mirror. Beside her was JinJing, a sweet woman, unaware that the man she worked for was an infamous criminal or that the woman beside her was no more Chinese than the man on the moon. Bellisia's hair was long and straight, a waterfall of silk reaching to her waist. She was short, delicate-looking, with small feet and hands. She spoke flawlessly in the dialect JinJing spoke, laughing and gossiping companionably in the restroom during their short break.
She kept her heart rate absolutely steady, the beat never rising in spite of the fact that she knew just by the heightened security and the tenseness of the guards that what she'd been looking for this past week was finally here. It was a good thing too. Time was running out fast. Like most of the technicians in the laboratory, she didn't wear a watch, but she was very aware of the days and hours ticking by.
JinJing waved to her and hurried out as the chime sounded, the call back to work. Anyone caught walking the halls was instantly let go. Or at least they disappeared. Rumor had it that wherever they were taken was not pleasant. The Cheng Company paid well. Bernard Lee Cheng had many businesses and employed a good number of people, but he was a very exacting boss.
Bellisia couldn't wait any longer. She couldn't be caught in the restroom either. Very carefully she removed the long wig and lifelike skin of her mask and rolled them into her white lab coat. She slipped off the laboratory uniform, revealing the skintight one-piece bodysuit she wore under it--one that reflected the background around her. Her shoes were crepe-soled and easy to move fast in. She removed them and shoved them in one of the pockets. Her pale blond hair was braided in a tight weave. She was as ready as she'd ever be. She slipped out, back into the narrow hallway the moment she knew it was empty. Acute hearing ensured she knew exactly where most of the technicians were on the floor. She knew the precise location of every camera and just how to avoid them.
Once in the hall, she climbed up the wall to the ceiling, blending in with the dingy, off-white color that looked like it had seen better days. As she moved from the hallway of the laboratory to the offices, the wall color changed to a muted blue, fresh and crisp. She changed color until she was perfectly blending in and slowed her pace. Movement drew the eye, and there were far more people in the offices. Most of them were in small, open cubicles, but as she continued through to the next large bank of offices, the walls changed to a muted green in the one large office that mattered to her.
She could see the woman seated, facing away from her, looking at the man behind the desk. Bernard Lee Cheng. She was very tempted to kill him, take the opportunity of being so close and just get the job done. It would rid the world of a very evil man, but it wasn't her mission, no matter how much she wished it were. The woman, Senator Violet Smythe-Freeman--now just Smythe--was her mission, specifically to see if the senator was selling out her country and fellow GhostWalkers, the teams of soldiers few even knew existed.
There was no way into the office, but that didn't matter. She moved slowly across the ceiling, hiding in plain sight. Even if one of the men or women on the floor happened to look up, they would have a difficult time spotting her as long as she was careful to move like a sloth, inching her way to her destination. She positioned herself outside the office over the door. Muting the sounds around her, she concentrated on the voices coming from inside the office.
Cheng faced her. Even if she couldn't hear his every word because he'd soundproofed his office, she could read lips. He wanted the GhostWalker program. Files. Everything--including soldiers to take apart. Her stomach clenched. Violet's voice was pitched low. She had the ability to persuade people to do what she wanted with her voice, but Cheng seemed immune.
She wanted money for her campaign. Maurice Stuart had named her his running mate for the presidential election. If elected, she planned to have Stuart assassinated so that she would become president. Cheng would have an ally in the White House. It was a simple enough business deal. The origins of dark money never had to be exposed. No one would know.
Violet was beautiful and intelligent. She was poisonous. A sociopath. She was also enhanced, one of the original girls Dr. Whitney had found in orphanages and experimented on so that he could enhance his soldiers without harming them. She used her looks and her voice to get the things she wanted. More than anything, she wanted power.
Cheng nodded his head and leaned forward, his eyes sharp, his face a mask. He repeated the price. Files. GhostWalkers.
Bellisia remained still as Violet sold out her country and fellow soldiers. She told him where to find a team and how to get to them. She also told him there were copies of the files he wanted in several places, but most were too difficult to get to. The one place he had the best chance was in Louisiana, at the Stennis Center.
Cheng responded adamantly, insisting she get the files for him. She was just as adamant that she couldn't. He asked her why she was so against the GhostWalker program.
Bellisia tried to get closer, as if that would help her hear better. She wanted to know as well. Violet was one of them. One of the original orphans Peter Whitney had used for his own purposes--a "sister," not by blood but certainly in every other way. She'd undergone the same experiments with enhancing psychic abilities. With genetics, changing DNA. There was no doubt that Whitney was a genius, but he was also certifiably insane.
Violet's murmured response horrified Bellisia. The woman was a GhostWalker snob. Superior soldiers were fine. DNA of animals was fine. Enhancement met with her approval, but not when it came to the latest experiments coming to light--the use of vipers and spiders. That was going too far and cheapened the rest of them. She wanted anyone with that kind of DNA wiped out.
There was a moment of silence, a
s if Cheng was turning her sudden burst of venomous hatred over and over in his mind, just as Bellisia was. Bellisia could have warned Violet that she was skating close to danger. Violet was a GhostWalker. Few had that information, but with that one outburst, she'd made a shrewd, extremely intelligent man wonder about her. He had a GhostWalker right there in his laboratory.
Violet, seemingly unaware of the danger, or because of it, swiftly moved on, laying out her demands once again. The two went back to haggling. In the end, Violet began to rise, and Cheng lifted a hand to stop her. She sank down gracefully, and the deal was made. Bellisia listened to another twenty minutes of conversation while the two hashed out what each would do for the other.
Bellisia calculated the odds of escaping if she killed the senator as the traitor emerged from Cheng's office. They weren't good. Even so, she still entertained the idea. The level of the woman's treachery was beyond imagination. She despised Violet.
A stir in the office drew her attention. Guards marched in and directed those in the smaller offices out. She glanced into the hallway and saw that the entire floor was being cleared. Her heart accelerated before she could stop it. She took a slow breath and steadied her pulse just as the siren went off, calling everyone, from the labs to the offices, into the large dorm areas.
Lockdown. She couldn't get to the restroom to retrieve her uniform, lab coat and wig before the soldiers searched, nor did she have enough time remaining before the virus injected into her began to kill her. She also couldn't remain in one of Cheng's endless lockdowns. He was paranoid enough that he had kept workers on the premises for over a week more than once. She'd be dead without the antidote by that time. Cheng would be even tighter with his security once the clothes and wig were discovered.
She began the slow process necessary to make her way across the ceiling to the hall. She couldn't go down to the main floor. Soldiers were pouring in and every floor would be flooded by now. She had to go up to the only sanctuary she might be able to get to. There were tanks of water housed on the roof that fed the sprinkler systems. That was her only way to stay safe from the searches Cheng would conduct once her clothes were found. That meant she had to take the elevator.
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