Under Her Skin

by Michelle Love

  And now he couldn’t hold her, because she was being prodded by half a dozen medics. All he could do was clench his teeth in frustration and try to thank God that at least she was alive. Or so they kept telling him.

  “She has a nasty gash on her scalp. Scalp wounds always bleed like a mother…I’d say she was hit from behind, or maybe she fell against something. Yes, there. Look…” The paramedic pointed to the metal range in the kitchen. “She could have fallen or been pushed—the police will find out.”

  Arturo couldn’t take his eyes off Hero, so pale, her golden skin so yellow and wan. “Will she be okay?”

  “We need to get her checked out.”

  He rode in the ambulance with them, holding Hero’s hand. As they neared the hospital, she groaned and opened her eyes. “Turo?”

  Relief rushed through him so powerfully that if he’d been standing, he would’ve gone weak-kneed. “Hero, thank God…I’m here, bella. I’m right here, sweetheart.”

  Her dark eyes swam with tears, and Arturo was about to call out to a medic that she was in pain when her voice stopped him.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Arturo frowned. “Cara mia, why are you apologizing? Whatever happened, it was in no way your fault.”

  The ambulance stopped, and then they were taking her through to the emergency room. Arturo held her hand gently as she looked at him, pain in her eyes.

  “I’m so sorry, baby,” she said again, her voice weakening, “it was me. I was the one who bought the Patrizzi apartment…”

  Arturo let go of her hand as the nursing staff stopped him at the door, staring after her, not understanding for a moment what she had told him. They took Hero through the doors to the ICU, and he lost sight of her.

  Shocked to his core by her admission, and by the horror of her accident—or attack—Arturo didn’t think. He turned on his heel and walked out of the hospital.

  Fliss Seymour jumped into the hospital room with a flourish. “Ta-da!”

  Hero, despite her pounding head and the heavy weight that had settled on her chest, chuckled. “You loon. Thank you for coming, Fliss…I didn’t know who else to call.” And the man I’m crazy about hates me now…

  Fliss hugged her gingerly. “It’s my pleasure, love. Are you okay?”

  “Just a concussion and some wounded pride.”

  Fliss peered at her. “And some pretty radical bruises. You got all that from falling over?”

  No.

  “My own fault. I tripped over some shoes I left lying around.” As the man who was trying to kill me beat my head against the metal range. She closed her eyes for a moment.

  “You okay? Should I get a nurse?”

  Hero opened her eyes. “No, just some dizziness. Fliss, really, thank you.”

  Fliss grinned at her. “I was going to bring flowers, but I thought you’d enjoy these more.” She brought out a small box and handed it to Hero. Inside was a row of chunky, jewel-colored soft pastels.

  Hero grinned. “These are beautiful, but you have to let me pay for them.”

  “No way…but, you could share some gossip I heard.”

  “What’s that?” Hero was admiring the deep, rich red of one of the pastels. Fliss grinned.

  “Word is…Arturo Bachi was the one who brought you in, and he was pretty upset.”

  Hero’s heart sank. “He was the one who found me.”

  “Because you were the one who bought the Patrizzi apartment!” Fliss crowed, obviously enjoying herself. “Man, I bet the polizia went to town on him.”

  Hero frowned. “The police?”

  “They arrested him on suspicion of attacking you.”

  “No, no, no, it wasn’t him, it wasn’t him…oh my God, no!” Hero felt hysteria bubbling up inside her.

  Fliss looked alarmed and got up to hug her. “Ssh, ssh, it’s okay. Calm down. They let him go. He had more than one alibi. But, Hero…so someone did attack you?”

  Hero nodded. “Yes. But it wasn’t Arturo. I swear it wasn’t.”

  “I believe you.” Fliss’s usually merry face was somber. “Are you planning on telling the polizia.”

  Hero nodded. “Yes. I just…I have to get my mind around things first.” How do you get your mind around almost having your head bashed in?

  “Okay. And you and Bachi…?”

  “Not anymore,” Hero whispered, still aching at the fact that he wasn’t by her side. That he had left when she needed him so badly. “Not anymore. Not after…” The weight on her chest grew too heavy then, and she began to sob quietly.

  “Oh, sweetheart.” Fliss wrapped her arms around her and held her as she cried herself out. Finally, Fliss swept Hero’s damp hair away from her forehead. “Listen, when are they letting you out?”

  “A couple of days.”

  “Well, then, you can stay with me. For as long as you need. I have a guest bedroom; it’s warm and safe. No arguments.”

  Hero smiled at her. “Anyone tell you you’re the best?”

  “Frequently.” Fliss grinned. “Now, I think you should get some sleep, sweetheart. Do you need some sleeping pills?”

  Hero shook her head. “But I could do with some pain killers.”

  Fliss squeezed her hand. “Be right back, babe.”

  Later, alone, Hero fell into a fitful sleep, tormented by images of Arturo’s beautiful face full of rage and hatred for her. She didn’t understand him walking away so coldly—it was only an apartment, and he’d said he had real feelings for her. Even so, she should have told him sooner. She didn’t care about the damn apartment now. He could have it.

  But the thought of him being in the world and hating her made her miserable. Even in this short time, she knew…she loved Arturo Bachi. And now she would have to live through the heartbreak of knowing she would never see him again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Run that past me again. Hero bought the Patrizzi apartment?”

  Arturo gave a quick nod. Peter sat back in his chair, clearly stunned. “And someone attacked her there?”

  “So it seems. But who?”

  “Does she have any idea?”

  Arturo looked away from Peter’s intense gaze and said nothing. Peter sighed. “You haven’t been to see her.”

  “No.”

  “You mad?”

  “Yes. And no. Hell, I don’t know what to think. She kept it from me all that time.”

  Peter fixed him with a glare. “All that time? Arturo, it’s been less than two weeks. Maybe she didn’t know how to tell you. Maybe she got scared. Maybe she didn’t want you to find out.”

  “Then why did she invite me to the apartment? She knew.” Arturo got up and stared out of the window.

  Peter watched him.

  “Turo,” he said in a soft voice, “I told you not to fall in love with her.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s over now.”

  “Forgive her. It’s just a damn apartment. Damn it, Turo. You claim to love her, but you don’t have a clue what love is if you’re holding something so petty over the woman’s bashed-in head!”

  Arturo turned and gave him a sad smile. “I forgave her the second she told me. It’s a matter of her forgiving me, and I don’t think that’s going to happen. I walked away, Pete. I walked away when she needed me the most. How the hell can I ask for forgiveness for that?”

  The look on Pete’s face told him his friend more than agreed.

  Arturo opened the envelope and drew out the documents, frowning. What the hell? It was the deed to the Patrizzi apartment. In his name. What the fuck?

  “Marcie? Who dropped these papers off?”

  Marcella came in. “Young girl. Short, curly hair. English. Very sweet. What are they?”

  Arturo handed her the documents, and she read them, her eyes widening. “Wow. So, you finally bought the apartment?”

  “No. That’s why I’m confused.”

  The phone at Marcie’s desk buzzed, and she went back out, closing the door behind her.

&nb
sp; Arturo read through the paperwork again. So, Hero was giving him the apartment? No, no way, this must be a mistake. But there it was in black and white. His dream, handed to him on a plate and it hadn’t cost him a penny.

  It just cost him the woman he loved. The real dream.

  Fliss insisted on taking care of everything, having Hero’s things moved from the apartment—the apartment where she’d never even spent one night—to Fliss’s large and beautifully furnished guest room.

  “I’m paying rent,” Hero insisted, and although Fliss rolled her eyes, Hero wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  She and the English woman became close very quickly, and as the weeks passed, Hero even began to help out in the little art store. One day, she was alone in the store when a man she didn’t recognize came in, smartly dressed. “Miss Donati?”

  Her guard went up immediately. “Who’s asking?”

  He had a kind smile. “I work for Signore Bachi. He asked me to bring you this.” He handed her an envelope, nodded, and left the store.

  Hero stared at the envelope. Hearing Arturo’s name left her simultaneously hot and cold inside. God…she both wanted to know what he said and was terrified at the same time. She braced herself and tore it open.

  There was no note, just a check in the amount of five million Euros. The message was clear. Arturo didn’t want any more ties to her.

  “Oh, damn it, damn it,” Hero murmured, tears pooling in her eyes. There went the last hope. She stuffed the check back in the envelope and then raised it to her face. She could smell his fresh, spicy scent on the envelope, and a memory came rushing back of his skin next to hers, his lips on hers hungry for her kisses, his arms around her. The way he would brace his arms either side of her head as his cock thrust deep into her, driving her towards ecstasy. The love in his eyes.

  Hero dropped her head and began to cry. Pull yourself together. But she couldn’t. It was a different kind of loss, a fresh one, and the pain was overwhelming.

  From his hidden position outside across the piazza, he watched her. Arturo’s chest hurt as he saw her weeping. Was it from relief that he’d paid for the apartment? Or was it pain over their parting?

  He had lost any anger he felt towards her for the apartment. Hell, he’d lost any passion he’d had for anything now. Arturo knew he could walk over to the shop to see her and beg for her forgiveness…but the thought that she might send him away? His courage failed him. His heart simply would not stand it. He knew now that he’d loved Flavia like the selfish boy that he’d been—he loved Hero like the man she’d tempted him to truly be.

  Arturo turned away and walked quickly to the police station. He might not be with Hero any longer, but he was damned if he’d stop trying to find out who attacked her. The police had questioned him, yes, but he still had influence.

  He found out more when he asked to talk to the lead detective. “Signorina Donati was getting threats, Signore Bachi. Death threats. She came to us last week with some of the notes, but there was nothing we could do. That’s all I can tell you.”

  Arturo just managed to keep his temper; blowing up wouldn’t get him any more information. “But someone did attack her? Are you giving her protection?”

  “We don’t have the manpower.”

  Arturo was steaming angry when he left the station. Getting on the phone, he asked his security chief to arrange protection for Hero. “But—and this is important—she mustn’t know. They must be discreet, and I don’t want her spied on.” He outlined what else he needed and ended the call. He was so tempted to go back to the little side street with the quaint little art store but stopped himself. It would just cause him more pain. Worse yet, it would just hurt her more, and that he could not justify, no matter how much he ached.

  Instead, he drove to the office and went to find Peter, who took one look at him and grabbed his jacket. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “The Villa Claudia. You need something to distract you.”

  Hero was locking the shop when she heard her name being called. Turning, she saw a smiling George Galiano walking towards her, and her heart sank. Arranging her features into a smile, she greeted him.

  “Ciao, bella.” He kissed her on the cheek, then nodded to the store. “You work here now?”

  “Just helping out.”

  He nodded. “I see. I was just passing, and I thought it was you. Come, have a drink with me.”

  Out of politeness, Hero went with him to a bar out on the lakefront.

  “Shall we sit outside? It’s such a warm evening.”

  Hero didn’t care. “Fine.”

  George chatted pleasantly for a while about nothing in particular, and Hero barely listened to him. Then he sat back and studied her. “I heard some things. Your accident? I’m very sorry. Are you still in pain?”

  “No.” Not physically.

  “And you and Arturo? I heard you split.”

  Hero sighed. “For something that was private, news sure travels fast.”

  “This is a small town, Hero, and Arturo, for some reason, is always a source of gossip and chatter.”

  “You seem to take an interest.”

  George shrugged. “Arturo and I…we go back a long way.”

  “You told me. Flavia cheated on him with you.” It came out as an accusation, and Hero regretted it the moment it left her mouth.

  George leaned forward, and his eyes gleamed with malice. “She did. She was desperately unhappy with Arturo, but I don’t suppose he mentioned that. He always likes to paint himself as the innocent one in all of this. He’ll do it to you, too; make out that you’re the villain, the gold-digger who used him and then dumped him.”

  Hero recoiled from his spite. “That isn’t the man I know.”

  “You’ve known him two weeks, Hero.” George sat back. “I’ve known him a lifetime.”

  “Look, I think I’d better go.” Hero got to her feet. “I really don’t want to get involved in any conflict between you and Arturo.”

  George laughed. “You don’t get it, do you? You are already involved. You were involved the moment you fucked Arturo.”

  Furious, Hero turned away from him…and ran straight into Arturo.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Arturo stared at her and felt a desperate longing to take her in his arms and kiss the pain out of her eyes. Hero looked pale, angry, and achingly beautiful. “Hero…”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Hello, Turo.”

  God, when she said his name like that…

  “Look, I…”

  Then he saw him: George Galiano, getting to his feet. Arturo’s heart froze and his jaw set. “Galiano.”

  Hero—God, she was so beautiful—looked down at her feet, her face reddening, and Galiano looked smug. What the hell was she doing with him?

  George looked triumphant, his eyes shining with malevolence. “Bachi. Armley,” he added to Peter, who was standing behind Arturo. Arturo cut his eyes back to Hero, who looked up and met his gaze.

  No one said anything for a long moment, tension crackling in the air between them. Abruptly, Hero, her hand at her mouth, stepped away from all three of them, ran across the piazza, and disappeared into a side street.

  Arturo stared after her, his heart breaking. Come back. Come back, I love you, I’m sorry…

  “You were careless with that little girl’s heart. Just like you were with Flavia’s.” George Galiano’s voice seared into his brain, and Arturo turned back to him, fists clenching.

  “You leave her alone, Galiano. Hero Donati is not a game you can use to win points from me.”

  George laughed. “I’m not playing any sort of game, Arturo. I’m just stating a fact. And besides, you probably gave up any right to her heart by dumping her at the hospital. What kind of man does that?”

  Arturo didn’t reply because he was too busy punching George from across the table. George slammed backwards into three more, tipping them over, causing patrons of the café to jump
to their feet.

  Pete practically threw Arturo into his car, and he drove away before Arturo could get out and pound on George some more. “Jesus, Turo.” He shook his head as they sped out of town and towards Arturo’s home. “You have got to get your head on straight again.”

  Arturo, his anger dissipating slumped in the driver’s seat. “Did you see her? God, she looked so hurt.”

  Peter sighed. “Turo, you’re not going to like what I have to say…but you two together…it’s toxic. You’re bad for each other. Stay away from her.”

  Arturo wanted to argue, but he had no strength left. His misery was consuming him. After Pete finally extracted a promise from him later that evening that he wouldn’t seek her out, he was left alone. Arturo couldn’t stop thinking about her though: the still-vivid bruises on her face, the sorrow in her eyes. He knew she loved him—knew it—but maybe Peter was right. Maybe they were a disaster together. Maybe she wouldn’t have gotten hurt, or threatened, if she’d had nothing to do with him.

  He leaned his head on the cool glass of his villa window and looked out at the lights of the town. “I’m sorry,” he whispered and closed his eyes.

  The next morning, Hero awoke to raised voices. Blinking in the pale morning light, she pulled her robe on and went to find out what was going on. Fliss met her in the hallway. “You have a visitor. I told her you were asleep, but she told me to wake you up.”

  “She?” But then the door opened, and Hero saw her. “Melly?”

  “Who else?”

  Hero jumped out of bed and tackled her startled sister in a fierce hug.

  Fliss, apparently terrified of Imelda, made her excuses and went to work. “Help yourself to anything you need,” she told them, then said in an undertone to Hero, “Valium, heroin, morphine…”