by Lori Flynn
Delila pulled the phone from her ear, surprised it didn’t crush under the pressure of her grip. What a thrill it would be to tell her the facts. The truth held power to knock her socks off. Knowing Vivian was one to chew on a subject until she drew blood, Delila thought it wise to end her rant.
“I had an accident, Vivian. I couldn’t work until now.”
“Well, why didn’t you say something, honey?”
“You made it kind of hard to get a word in edgewise. Is there someone in particular asking for me tonight?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, and when you hear who, you’ll understand why I freaked out on you. It’s Giovanni Prinetti. He called from his yacht and made it clear that if I couldn’t find you, his people would. You and I both know Mr. Prinetti isn’t in the habit of making idle threats.”
The mention of his name brought back a flood of memories, shaking her to her core. The exceptionally distinguished Giovanni Prinetti commanded a remarkable degree of power in the world of finance. Due to the assumption of his close connection with organized crime, his business dealings were endlessly scrutinized. More importantly, he had a strong fascination for Delila.
She didn’t give a second thought to how he generated his income. She cared only for his treatment of her. A connection had sparked the instant they met, with one encounter proving more intoxicating than the next. Then, during one of their enchanted evenings, reality sent her a check.
Delila knew she shouldn’t have but listened in on a long-distance call from his wife, Gabriella. It forced her to accept the kick in the ass she needed. Men like Giovanni married women like Gabriella and kept secrets like Delila.
She’d just applied her perfume, slipping her phone in her bag, when the car arrived. With one last glance in the full-length mirror, she inspected the liner meticulously circling her blue eyes before locking the door behind her and moved gingerly toward the stairs. The thunderstorms continued, as they normally did near the beginning of July, while the humidity and the temperature hovered in the nineties. Delila zipped her short, hot pink raincoat and tugged the hood over her spiky blonde hair.
Guards met her at the port, escorting her to the Gabriella, following a thorough search of her bag. The night, overcast and starless, didn’t stop her from spotting Giovanni’s soldiers lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce, should it become necessary. They had her under constant surveillance. Without a doubt, she knew no harm would come to their employer.
“Mr. Prinetti is waiting for you in the master bedroom. If you follow me, I’ll escort you,” said another imposing guard, who didn’t see the need to conceal the automatic weapon secured at his waistband.
Delila trailed him through the vessel as the thunder rumbled in the distance. The bodyguard held the cabin door as she entered and then folded his arms over his mammoth chest making her aware he intended to remain at his post when the door shut behind her. Her eyes were slow to focus in the moonless room, where the cream linen curtains billowed from the windows, having been propelled by storm-driven ocean breezes. Sensing a presence, she turned.
“It’s as if the gods made that color just for you. No one else should ever have permission to wear it. I could probably arrange that,” Giovanni said, crossing the room, taking her in his arms.
“Hello there, handsome.”
“I have missed you.”
She’d forgotten how the purr of his voice laced with his melodic Italian accent had her willing to listen to most anything he had to say. When he pulled her close, nearly crushing her, Delila twisted away. Maintaining control was imperative. Angering him with her insatiable needs could have her end up as shark bait, with no one the wiser.
“I couldn’t find you, and that Vivian wasn’t much help. My business here has concluded, and I must depart. I told her I wasn’t leaving until I saw you. And now you’re here.” His large hands took her face and held it gently.
“I’m sorry, Giovanni. You shouldn’t be angry with Vivian. She had no idea where I was. The truth is, I was involved in an accident about six weeks ago. I had to go away awhile and recuperate. But I’m just fine now and glad you waited for me.”
“You had an accident, Delila? Did someone hurt you? This so-called profession of yours is a dangerous one. Please, give me a name. I will take care of it,” he narrowed his eyes as his anger blended with concern.
“No, Giovanni. I’m healed, and it’s over now. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Delila softened, touched by his reaction.
The thunder roared while the lightning highlighted the room, adding a seductive ambiance. Thinking it wise to change the subject before her host became insistent, she stepped away from his tense, hard body before again turning to face him. As the light flashed, Delila unzipped the short pink raincoat, allowing it to drop, presenting a matching bikini and heels.
“I doubt this bikini will see much of the ocean with this weather,” she said, offering him a teasing smile.
“I would have to agree, although the weather won’t be your villain.” His glance slid rapidly from her eyes, taking in the length of her before two strides brought them together.
Delila shuddered as the heat from his fingers traced the small scar she carried from the accident. She gasped when he caressed and kissed it as if he could somehow make it disappear. Discarding her bikini top, he then circled her breasts with eager fingers. She swayed while his hands traveled downward, ridding her of the sparse bottom, having it slide down her thighs to the floor.
His touch was light and painfully taunting, and he kissed her lips with a passion that took her breath away, causing her knees to fail. He lifted her, filling her with his hardness, leaving her no choice but to wrap him with her legs and plead, “Don’t stop.” She paid little concern to the unfastened windows, the ebb and flow of the curtains, or the clustering guards.
They drifted to the bed where a framed picture on his bedside table displayed a smiling woman surrounded by a brood of happy children. Delila reminded herself of a life that could never be. Sensing his stare, she searched for words.
“Your wife’s lovely. You’re a lucky man, Giovanni.”
“That may be true, but it is you that makes me happy, Delila. I got you a gift. When I saw it in the window, it sparkled as brightly as you do, and I thought you should have it. I had it engraved.”
The rectangular box from Cartier held a diamond bracelet, the most stunning bracelet Delila had ever laid eyes on. In the platinum, the inscription read, ‘To D. With Love, G.’ Tears welled in her eyes as he fastened it to her slender wrist.
Sharp taps at the cabin door cut short their heartfelt moment. A brief apology, delivered in Italian, was directed toward her by a menacing wall of a man encompassing the width of the doorway, who required Giovanni’s immediate attention. Untroubled by his nakedness, Giovanni joined him, closing the door behind him. Their conversation, spoken in Italian and muted, was at once moved further from her ears.
Delila wrapped herself in the decadently soft bed sheet and took the opportunity to explore the elegant room. The rich furnishings and fine craftsmanship attracted her. She was careful not to poke through cabinets or drawers, aware of the eyes trained on her every move. While running her fingers along the marble countertop encasing the gold fixtures in the master bath, she noticed Giovanni watching her in the sizeable gilded mirror.
“Is it just me you like to watch, or is it a habit of yours?” She flushed, keenly aware of his scrutiny.
“Rest assured it is only you, Delila.”
“I’m glad you’re back. I started getting lonely.”
“It’s unfortunate, but I’ve just learned I can’t delay my departure any longer. I must leave tonight.” He brought her to him. “Come with me. It’s not safe for you here, and I can protect you.”
“Giovanni, as tempting as that sounds, I’m smart enough to know the picture by your bed didn’t just come with the frame. You’re very married.”
“In name only—she wanted child
ren and I gave them to her. My marriage should not concern you Delila. Is it not almost your Independence Day here in America? I could give you everything you ever dreamed of and more.” He tightened his grip around her.
Between his offer and the heat surging her veins, Delila had one lucid thought. She shouldn’t toy with Giovanni Prinetti. His mind, although tied directly to his penis at the moment, boarded on brilliant. And he required an answer. The thought of sailing off into the night felt as tempting as it did impossible.
“Giovanni, if you intended to surprise me this evening, you’ve succeeded. I need time to think, to plan. Please understand, it would be a big step to take on a whim,” she reasoned.
Delila tensed when Giovanni took her face between his hands, searching her eyes. He placed his lips on hers, gently kissing her.
“I have never been a patient man, Delila, but for you, I will make an exception. I will return at the end of the year. That should give you enough thinking and planning time. Yes?”
Before she could answer he tugged the corner of the bed sheet, so it fell in one fluid motion at her feet. Gripping her waist, he twisted her around, drawing her to his hardened body and then eased her over the cool marble of the bathroom counter. “No more talking, I don’t have much time. My men will be here soon to take you back.”
His hooded eyes found hers through the mirror. He thrust into her, mistaking her gasp for a groan, while his hands caressed the plains of her back. She knew his world of crime and violence had him take what he wanted when he wanted it.
When his man tapped the door to collect her, she deftly slipped on her coat, searching for the pieces of her bikini.
“Leave it,” Giovanni ordered, watching her go, his naked body shadowed in the darkness.
Slouched in the rear of the car, still pulsating and reeking of sex, Delila was sure of one thing. Another shot of tequila would help numb his words. Giovanni promised he’d return at the end of the year. She couldn’t make promises or plan for tomorrow.
With scarcely enough time to change her clothes, or dress at all, she called Vivian, remembering to store the bracelet and ditch the burner phone down the trash compactor. Tequila clouded her mind while Giovanni filled her thoughts. She’d been feeling stronger. He said he wanted to protect her. When he found out what he had gotten himself into, who would protect her from him?
Chapter Thirty-Four
Olivia
Thunder raged in the morning sky, sparking a booming howl from Lily at a pitch only a beagle could deliver. It jarred Olivia from her deep sleep. “Stop that, Webster,” she mumbled to the black and white Sheltie, giving his feathered coat a nudge. He hovered over her pillow, excitedly sniffing her hair. Buckley’s kind eyes met hers as his long yellow body paced a path to her bed. At least everyone’s accounted for.
Working from home for the last six weeks had pleased Ben. She couldn’t continue forever. She’d designated this day as her official return.
Her head pounded. Why today? Not again!
Olivia checked the time, certain she’d be late. Her stomach rolled. Sliding from the edge of the bed, she dashed to the bathroom before retching what reeked of tequila and then slumped on the cool tile floor. How can I vomit alcohol? All I drank last night was tea.
She sat and waited. Breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, nausea subsided, and the room stopped spinning. Answers didn’t come, only tears.
She wanted desperately to rinse her mouth and wash that damned floral scent from her hair. It helped her accomplish the steep climb to the shower. Her body ached in places it had no reason to. She flinched under the pulsing showerhead and then dressed fireman-fast.
Olivia hurried from the house. Picturing Maria and Christian waiting at breakfast, she pursed her lips. She could do without their well-meaning questions and advice. With sheer will and determination, she drove to work. Any hopes of boosting her resolve before taking the long hike to the building shattered as a sharp knock vibrated inches from her ear.
The thunderous sky seemed the perfect backdrop to Ben’s clouded look of concern centered in her window. Olivia lowered the glass and feigned a smile. “If you’re not careful, your face will stay that way.”
“What way?”
“Scrunched and worried; what’s wrong, Ben? What are you doing here?”
Ben swallowed hard while kicking a small stone away from his foot. He crouched down beside her car window and held her eyes. His intensity shortened her already shortened breath. She thought it possible she might be sick before finding out what he was there to say.
“I called you last night, several times. You didn’t return any of them.”
“I was probably asleep and didn’t hear the phone.” Olivia dug her cell phone from her cavernous bag and scrolled through the long list of missed calls. “I’m sorry I worried you.”
“That was my first thought. But you’re such a light sleeper. I couldn’t get that out of my head. I called Maria, had her check on you. You weren’t home.”
Shock crossed Olivia’s face. The night before was as much a mystery to her as it was to him. She’d deal with Maria’s meddling another time. What mattered to her more was literally staring her in the face. And he had her backed into a corner.
“Let me make sure I understand,” she said. “You’re here this morning because you think I went out without you last night. I realize I just had a problem with amnesia but did I miss the wedding?” Raising her eyes, she peered directly into his. “You’re out of line, Ben.”
“I’m out of line? Excuse me for worrying about you.”
His nostrils flared inches from her eyes. She could count his pulse from the vein twitching in his neck. Every beat made her head hurt more. “Since the injury, I’m lucky if my energy level gets me through lunch, much less an evening out. You know that. When you sent Maria in to check on me, I was probably out walking the beach. I stayed out there until the thunderstorms chased me back. After that, I took my migraine meds and went to bed. Maybe I should’ve checked in with the warden first.”
He stood and opened her door. “Could you get out? I’ve lost feeling in my feet.”
I’m not sure I can. “Go to work, Ben.”
She waited as he held his ground and the door. Shit. Inhaling, she stepped from the car. Her stomach flipped, and her head threatened to crack like a coconut. When he pulled her in his arms, she swallowed back vomit.
“I’d ask if I behaved like an ass,” Ben said. “But a good lawyer knows better than to ask a question he doesn’t know the answer to. I’ve got to be in court all day. Call you later.”
“I’ll be sure to answer so you won’t be tempted to alert the National Guard.”
He grinned. “Should you be here today?”
“I’m fine, just tired.”
“Take it slow.” Shuffling his feet, he returned to his car.
Olivia watched him drive away, relieved she’d avoided the conflict but saddened with the lies she’d so casually spun. She leaned against her car to stay vertical. It eased her conscience some that she’d reassured him. The truth felt like a rock lodged in her heart.
With a deep breath, she stepped through the very same door the paramedics had raced her from weeks before. To her wonder, she found the front desk vacant. She would’ve smiled, if not for a migraine pounding behind her eyes. All she wanted was to drop in her chair, rest her head on her desk, and remember why she’d thought it so damn important to go back to work.
As she crossed the threshold of her office, staff members, who’d wedged themselves behind various pieces of her furniture, jumped out. Raising her hands to her mouth, she gasped, her headache making her squint against the lights.
“Welcome back, Olivia!” they cheered in unison.
She scanned the room packed with well-wishers and helium balloons. Dr. Hunter smiled brightly. Mandy and Cindy seemed like they were struggling with their emotions. The office staff hugged her but seemed far more riveted on the cake prominently
displayed on her desk. Olivia narrowed her eyes, confused as to why it was shaped like an angel.
“You were our guardian angel that night,” Mandy explained. “If it wasn’t for you, that horrible man might’ve killed us all.” Tears glistened in her eyes.
Olivia smiled at Mandy’s heartfelt expression. She watched Gretchen, seated in the corner of the room, studying her intently. The older women grinned as she ambled over. She encircled Olivia in a quick embrace.
“If I didn’t know better, Gretchen, I might think you were running one of those physiological profiles you use on your guests.”
“I won’t lie and say I’m not worried about you, my dear. After all, I promised Catherine I’d keep you safe. Fine job I’ve done with that one. I know I have to practice what I preach and stop feeling guilty. At least that’s what I told your Mr. Thornton.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That poor boy’s been so guilt-ridden about not getting here in time to save you. He can’t let it go. I’ve told him more than once; it wasn’t his fault. So, catch me up. Do you remember anything else?”
“No Gretchen, not a thing,” Olivia answered. After watching the tape, she didn’t believe she ever would.
“Promise me you won’t overdo it today; baby steps.”
When the last well-wisher shuffled from her office, Olivia locked the door. She lowered her head to her desk. Dropping the façade she saved for the world, she cried. Her tears were for her waning hope of ever getting well. The only thing she got better at was lying. There were tears for Ben. He deserved so much more than someone broken and complicated. She cried for the simple, peaceful life she’d promised her dogs. Her tears were unrelenting, culminating without answers or a clue where to go to find them.
The remnants of the angel cake loomed on the corner of her desk while the happy-faced balloons danced along the ceiling. She unzipped her makeup bag and covered her swollen red eyes, hoping to avoid concerned questions, before grabbing her sneakers to check the dog board. When she hung up the last leash, she waved goodnight and headed for the parking lot. She hoped a long walk, one with her feet in the warm ocean water, could wash away her gloom.