Under Her Skin

by Michelle Love

  Hero hid a smile. “Thanks, Fliss. I’m sorry if it seems I’m taking over your whole life.”

  “Hey, mi casa es su casa. I’ll see you later.”

  Hero sucked in a deep breath and went to face her sister. Imelda was making coffee, opening the fridge and searching out some cream. She stopped when Hero came in and leaned against the doorjamb.

  “So,” Imelda stuck her hand on her hip and fixed Hero with a laser beam stare, “who did that to you?” She stabbed a finger at the fading bruises. “Why didn’t you call me when you were in the goddamn hospital…and who is this billionaire you’ve been fucking?”

  Arturo walked through the Villa Claudia trying to focus on what he wanted to do with it. The worst of it was…he had seen his future here, and it was with Hero. He could imagine her: trailing her fingers through the wisteria and the jasmine; the scent on her skin later as they danced under moonlight; candles guttering on the long stone table; the remnants of their supper; empty bottles of wine; Hero, barefoot, in a light cotton dress, her hair streaming down her back; in his arms, her lips against his.

  Arturo closed his eyes and dreamed the rest of it.

  Kissing her eyelids, her dark lashes sweeping down on her cheeks. Her whisper of “I love you.” His fingers sliding the thin straps of her dress down her arms, the dress slipping to the ground. Her breasts, so full, so soft in his hands, the nipples hardening as his tongue swept over them. Laying her back on the thick grass of the lawn, burying his face in her sex as she writhed and gasped under him. Sucking on her clit until she was begging for him and sliding his ramrod hard cock into her softness. The flush in her cheeks when she came.

  Arturo groaned and sat down on the cold stone floor. How had this happened to him? He didn’t get hung up on a woman; he fucked around and never called them back. He never ever got involved. And he certainly never felt like this after knowing a woman for two weeks.

  Fuck this shit. He would make this place into the home he imagined anyway. He would live here alone and never, ever let any woman affect him like this again.

  No. No. That wouldn’t work for me. For us.

  Damn it.

  He raised his head and looked around once more at the space, hearing Hero’s soft laughter echoing through it. That did it.

  I’m going to get her back.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “So, who did you piss off?” Imelda looked down at the notes Hero showed her and the photographs of the murdered girl.

  Hero shook her head. “I don’t know. I got the first one just a few days after I got here. The other three later.” She thought back. “The first one…I’d just got back to the hotel, and someone had followed me. A man. He had a knife, I think.”

  Imelda gaped at her. “And you didn’t go to the police after that?”

  “No. I ignored it. Who would threaten me like that? I figured they...got the wrong room.” Her excuse sounded flimsy even to her as she saw Imelda look skeptical.

  “You were with him that night, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, you had ‘fuck-brain.’”

  Hero snorted with laughter. “I had what?”

  “Fuck-brain. All those endorphins flowing through your system. You were dick-ma-tized.”

  Hero chuckled, feeling lighter now her sister was here. “I don’t know what makes me say this, Melly, but I missed you.”

  Imelda studied her younger sister. “You know what’s strange? I missed you, too.”

  “Thanks,” Hero said dryly, but Imelda waved her hand.

  “No, I mean…for once, when you weren’t there, it was odd. And it wasn’t like when you married and lived all that way down in Chicago. It felt like…you were gone. Gone, gone. When we didn’t know where you were, I honestly thought you’d done something stupid. Hero, when I told you to move, I was just trying to shock you into doing something. I didn’t actually want you to move to another country.”

  “I know that, Melly.”

  Imelda gave a little sigh. “I wasn’t very nice to you when we were growing up.”

  “No.”

  “I was jealous.”

  Hero’s eyes widened. “You were jealous of me? Why?”

  “Because you were nice, and I didn’t know how to be like that. I was just born a bitch.”

  “You are not a bitch,” Hero said, emphatically. “You tell it how it is.” She considered, then grinned. “Sometimes you might…take a scoop from the asshole jar.”

  They both laughed.

  “God, Melly, it feels so good to laugh.” Hero rubbed her face, her smile fading. “I messed up right from the beginning here.”

  Imelda didn’t say anything for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was soft, kind. “Was he special?”

  Hero nodded. “I’ve never met anyone like him, Melly, not even Tom, and God, I loved Tom. He was absolutely my best friend in the world, but Arturo…” She flushed. “I’ve never known…sex…like that. And the connection…God, Melly.” She could feel tears threatening again. “It just felt right, you know?”

  Imelda sighed and took her sister’s hand. “Hero…I hate to say this because I can’t forgive him for leaving you at the hospital, but if you really feel that deeply about him, maybe there’s a chance?”

  “I really want to believe that, but I don’t think there’s much hope.”

  Arturo finished speaking to his Board after securing their agreement to change the name of the Villa Patrizzi. He saw they didn’t really care what he called it; they were just delighted that he’d acquired the last apartment, and as far as they were concerned, it was free of charge. He didn’t tell them that he’d paid Hero back everything she’d paid. The cost was nothing with all his millions. Peter had been annoyed but eventually let it go. “Hey, it’s your money, buddy.”

  Arturo grinned. “So very passive-aggressive.”

  Peter had laughed. “Fair enough. Listen, Philipo came out of his belfry to ask if you would go see him soon.”

  Arturo’s uncle, Philipo, might run the Bachi Foundation, but he was a reclusive figure. Arturo could count on one hand the times he had seen his uncle in the last ten years. Peter saw his uncle more than he did, given that he was the liaison between Arturo and the trust fund his uncle handled.

  Arturo was surprised now that he had been summoned, and when he and Peter drove over to see him, he was shocked to see his uncle so frail. He shot a look at Peter, who looked equally surprised.

  “Uncle…how are you?”

  Philipo waved his hand. “Old, my boy, so you can take that look off your face. I asked you to come here for one reason. Your fortieth birthday is a year away, but I have made the decision to release your trust fund early. There is a good chance I won’t make it to your birthday. Cancer.”

  Arturo hadn’t even begun to process that news before Philipo continued.

  “No, don’t look like that, I’ve had a good life.” He looked at Peter. “But there’s a caveat. Peter will now be the executor. I’ve not forgotten what drove your father to craft these conditions, the way you behaved.”

  “Uncle…my trust is the least of my concerns right now,” Arturo replied. “There must be something we can do. I could take you to Sloan-Kettering to get some treatment.”

  Philipo shook his head. “I’m not fighting this. I’m prepared for my death, Arturo. I just want to be with my Giovanna.”

  The wistful look on the cranky old man’s face brought Hero flooding straight back into Arturo’s mind, and Philipo seemed to see right through him.

  “Speaking of love…” A smile cracked the old man’s visage. “I hear you have a new amore. An American girl.”

  Arturo cleared his throat, awkwardly, still trying to figure out how they could be discussing his love life after his uncle announced he was dying. “It’s…complicated, uncle.”

  “Pah,” his uncle spat. “Uncomplicate it, if you love her. Do you love her?”

  “Very much.” Arturo could sense Peter looking at him a
nd shot him a look. “I’m going to try, uncle. Do I have your blessing?”

  “What do I care? Yes, yes, have my blessing. Don’t waste love, Arturo.” Philipo fixed him with a stern, powerful look that had lost no ground to the disease that was killing him. “That also means don’t waste time, by the way.”

  In the car on the way back to the office, Peter studied his friend. “You’re going to try and get Hero back?”

  “Yes. She’s all I want, Peter. All I want. Nothing means anything without her.”

  Peter was silent, and Arturo knew his friend was concerned. He shot him a half-smile. “Pete, I know what you’re thinking, but I’m older now. I know what I want.”

  “I just don’t want you putting your life in the hands of someone you met two weeks ago, no matter how great she is in the sack.”

  Arturo sighed. “Pete, it’s not just the sex with Hero…it’s her. I’ve never had this connection with anyone…not even Flavia. You know me, I don’t get involved, and yet when I met Hero, my world shifted. I realized what is important.”

  “But you left her at the hospital.”

  He winced. “Shock. Confusion. My dumbass male pride. I don’t give a fuck now. I want her back. I know I always get what I want, but I think she wants it, too, Peter. We’re good for each other. We’re right. I need her so much…I believe she also needs me.”

  Peter said no more.

  When Arturo got back to the office, he greeted Marcella and then went into his office and closed the door. Drawing in a lungful of air, he picked up his phone and flicked through his contacts to Hero’s number and pressed ‘Call.’ When he heard her gentle voice, nervous and shaking, he smiled. “It’s me. Can we talk?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Arturo saw the tall, willowy blonde cross the restaurant, and was surprised when she stopped at his table. Her face, patrician and elegant, was beautiful, but her eyes were suspicious and unfriendly. “Signore Bachi?”

  “That’s me.”

  She held out her hand. “Imelda Donati.”

  Hero’s sister. Arturo stood and shook her hand, frowning. “Is Hero okay? I’d heard she was recovering from her injuries—”

  “She’s fine. She’s currently at home, sulking because I wouldn’t let her come. May I sit?”

  “Of course.” He held out her chair for her, so many questions whirling around his mind. Had Hero changed her mind about seeing him? What did this woman mean by not letting Hero come?

  Imelda Donati was studying him. “I can see what you’re thinking. She’s a twenty-eight-year-old woman. How do I get to keep her from doing whatever she wants? Signore Bachi…I wanted to see you first, to meet you, to see the man who got my sister into this mess she’s in.”

  Arturo nodded. “In that case, let me waste none of your time. You’re here to see if I’m good enough for Hero. Let me set you straight. I’m not. I’m not good enough for her. But I’m going to do everything I can to become that man.”

  Imelda raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “You should know, Signore Bachi, that I’m not easily swayed by a pretty face, even one as handsome as yours. It’ll take more than words to persuade me that you care for my sister. We nearly lost her when Tom and Beth died. When she woke after three months in a come to find her husband and daughter were dead, and I had to be the one to tell her that we buried them without her…I never want her to go through that again.”

  “I swear to God, I will make sure she is cared for the rest of her life if she lets me,” Arturo said fiercely. “I don’t want to dictate what Hero does; I want her to be free, happy, and more than anything, safe.”

  “Safe.” Imelda’s expression changed then, losing some of its blank ferociousness to fear. “Signore Bachi…”

  “Please call me Arturo.”

  “Arturo…did you know Hero was threatened before she was attacked?”

  He nodded. “I just heard recently about some notes she got before the acci…attack. She’s confirmed it, then? She was attacked at the Villa Patrizzi?”

  Imelda sighed. “Yes. A man grabbed her from behind, beat her and told her he wasn’t going to kill her ‘this time.’”

  Arturo’s mouth turned to sand, but Imelda was still talking so he couldn’t lose himself in the horror or misery.

  “She has no idea who he was or why he would target her. Arturo, if you care for her as much as you say you do, prove it. Help me find who is threatening my sister.”

  “Anything.” Arturo reached across and grasped her hand, pressing firmly. “Anything.”

  Imelda considered him, lightly turning her hand free. “Then perhaps you can tell me who this woman is in these photographs that Hero was sent?”

  She placed the two photographs on the table in front of him. Arturo’s chest hurt when he stared down at them. Flavia. Hurt and terrified, then butchered. Looking so much like Hero…the meaning was clear. Whoever sent the notes—the killer—wanted to kill Hero, too. Why? He swallowed hard.

  No. Not going to happen, you son-of-a-bitch. You don’t get to decide whether Hero lives or dies. No.

  Arturo looked at Imelda, his eyes intense and serious.

  “I would die before I let this happen to Hero. I would kill anyone who tried. You have my word, Imelda.”

  Imelda studied him for a long moment, then stood to go. “You can see Hero. Tonight.” She dug in her purse for a scrap of paper. “Here’s the address. Don’t let me down, Signore Bachi.”

  “I swear to God, I won’t. I won’t let you down. More importantly, I won’t disappoint Hero.”

  Imelda told Hero that Arturo would be picking her up at eight. “Pack an overnight bag. You’re staying with him this evening.”

  Happiness soared in Hero’s heart. “He said that?”

  “No, I did. I allowed it.”

  Hero grinned. “Pimp.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Big Pimp Sister.”

  Imelda rolled her eyes. “Are you done?”

  Hero hugged her sister. “I am. Thank you, thank you.”

  “Hero…he seems like a good man, but you’re the best judge of that. I showed him those horrible pictures of that girl, Flavia. He agrees with me…you’re in danger. But like you, he has no idea who might be targeting you, because he doesn’t know who killed his ex-girlfriend. He’s convinced it’s the same man, and I agree. So, be careful. He’s arranged protection for you, and rather annoyingly for me, too, while I’m in the country.” Her mouth hitched in a smile. “He’s quite tenacious.”

  Hero took a long soak in Fliss’s tub that afternoon and dressed carefully. Her entire body was tingling in anticipation of seeing Arturo, but she was still nervous as hell. When he’d called, she had been beyond elated, but Imelda told her to temper her excitement, and then she insisted on vetting Arturo before she allowed Hero to meet him. Only her newly established relationship with Imelda, as fragile as it was, had made Hero agree to the arrangement.

  So now, in a couple of hours, she would see him. The thought of looking into his eyes and feeling his skin against hers…she hoped for it. God, how the hell was she supposed to keep her cool? Hero drew in a shaky breath, opened the window to the balcony of her room, and gazed out over Como. It had been a hot day, but now late in the afternoon, the heat began to dissipate, leaving a sultry feeling.

  Hero slid into a light cotton dress of a pale pink and brushed her long hair out. Grinning to herself, she hoped it would get mussed up and tangled before the night was out. She closed her eyes and let the thought of his fingers stroking her bare back make her shiver with anticipation.

  By the time eight o’clock came around, her stomach was in knots. Fliss and Imelda had gone out to dinner. Fliss taking one for the team, as she put it, so Hero was left alone to pace the apartment, getting more and more nervous.

  When the intercom buzzed, she started a little, her heart hammering against her ribs. She paused before opening the door.

  The first sight of him, so devastatingly handsome in a dark b
lue sweater and blue jeans, made her whole body tremble. His eyes gave away his own nerves, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Hero couldn’t stop herself. She threw herself into his arms and crushed her mouth against his. His arms clamped around her, his hand cradling the back of her head as he kissed her back, his mouth hungry. Hero’s tears wet both their faces.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Arturo’s voice broke as they paused for air, “God, I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Hero, il mia amore…please forgive me.”

  “If you’ll forgive me, Turo. I’m so sorry about the Patrizzi—about everything.” She was weeping with joy at being in his arms. Arturo kissed her again until she couldn’t breathe.

  “There’s nothing to forgive, my sweet darling, nothing. Hero…” He cupped her face in his hands. “I love you. Ti amo, Ti amo.”

  “I love you, too…I know it’s stupid-fast, but I don’t care. I love you, Arturo Bachi.”

  He groaned and picked her up. “We’ll go to my place, but for now, I can’t wait, my love. Where is your bedroom?”

  She kissed him as he carried her to her room, then not wanting to wait, they stripped quickly and tumbled onto the bed. Arturo slid his hand down between her legs and smiled. “You’re already wet.”

  “I’ve been thinking about you—about this—all afternoon. Turo, don’t wait. I want you inside of...oh!”

  With a grin, Arturo thrust his engorged cock deep inside her, and Hero groaned with pleasure. As he thrust, he sucked on her nipples until they were rock-hard, stroked the soft skin of her belly tenderly, attending to every part of her body as if she were the most precious thing in the world. Hero wrapped her legs around his waist, her thighs taut against him, her hands on his face, his shoulders, his back as they made love. She couldn’t stop touching him, and when they came—together—they clung to each other as if the world were trying to tear them apart.

  “Don’t let me go again,” she whispered, and he nodded, his eyes closed, his forehead against hers.

  “Never again…never ever again…”