Your Scheming Heart

by Kress, Alyssa

  Appalled, Sabrina turned her cheek. "Are you kidding? I feel much too awful. Your painting—"

  A sigh of surrender breathed through him. "Oh, very well, Sabrina. If you insist, then I will confess. The painting was a fake."

  Her head shot upward, her forehead nearly colliding with Vincenzo's chin. "What?!"

  "A copy," Vincenzo claimed, grinning. "And not a very good one, either."

  "What?" She pulled out of his embrace far enough to stare up at him. "The painting that was in Francesca Miller's house was a copy?"

  "Yes. And most amateur. I saw it right away."

  "You could tell?"

  He appeared offended. "Sabrina, I have picked up some knowledge of art appraisal during the past four years."

  "Then why did you make the switch?"

  His eyes drifted to the side, sheepish. "It was too much fun to resist. It really was exciting, Sabrina. And besides—I felt sorry for Mrs. Miller."

  Sabrina let out a breath of disgust, though she actually felt oddly proud. "Yeah, I felt the same way."

  "Good." Smiling, Vincenzo drew her back into his embrace. "Then everything is fine now."

  He had to be kidding. Everything was fine now? She was still a traitor, and besides— "No, Vincenzo, there's something else."

  He looked down, lifting both eyebrows.

  She sighed. "I made another deal. You should know about it."

  He pressed his lips together. "You have been a busy lady."

  "You have no idea." She flicked her gaze to the side. "This one was with your uncle, Sylvio."

  "No. Let me guess." Vincenzo couldn't repress the grin that tugged at his lips. "He offered to pay you to make me give up and go home."

  She gasped. "How did you know?"

  Vincenzo laughed, hugging Sabrina tighter. "I would have been surprised had he not approached you. What an opportunity!"

  "He offered me two hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

  Vincenzo laughed harder. "Fool! You would have done it for half that." Before Sabrina could protest this characterization, Vincenzo swept her up into his arms. His eyes gleamed down at her with mirth and male possessiveness. "I understand you, Sabrina. I know who you are. I know you through and through."

  Sabrina raised an eyebrow, doubting this very much. She wasn't sure she knew herself all that well lately. "Are you thinking I'm a 'good girl' now, or something?" she asked disparagingly.

  Vincenzo's smile turned dangerous. "I certainly hope not."

  His smile, the look in his eyes, and the way his arms felt holding her with apparent ease—it was all working to make Sabrina feel soft and surrendering.

  "But what about the painting?" she asked, trying to hold onto her sanity. "Now that the Sergeant Miller angle is a bust, what are you going to do to find her?"

  Vincenzo gave her a very odd look. "You still do not understand."

  "You keep saying that."

  His smile got wicked. "Never mind. I will show you."

  "You'll show me wha—" Her words were cut off most effectively by the measure Vincenzo took of placing his lips over hers.

  A moan slipped out of Sabrina's throat. God, he was good at that. A shift of his jaw, a dance of his tongue, and she was a mindless mass of need.

  In about two seconds she forgot all the reasons they shouldn't be doing this. Half a second later, she was kissing him back.

  Forgotten, completely gone, was any idea that she and Vincenzo lived in different worlds, that he was about to fly home to Italy while she went off to exact her revenge against the Castlewrights. All she could think of was:

  "More." The word dragged out of her.

  Vincenzo's arms tightened around her and then he was striding forward to lay her on the bed. A soft litany in Italian flowed over Sabrina's chest as he unfastened the row of agate buttons down the front of her dress. Sabrina didn't understand a word of his speech, but guessed it related to the various parts of her anatomy he kissed as he made his way down the dress. Soon her bra was gone and his lips were nuzzling her breasts, making her arch her head back in pleasure.

  "Please tell me we're going to do it this time," she murmured.

  Dark lashes lowered over his eyes. "We are going to do...something," he replied, then lowered his lips to hers.

  "Wait a minute, wait a minute." Sabrina writhed as his hands smoothed up her rib cage, leaving sparkles of want in their wake. "Are you telling me you're going to stop—before—? Again?" She managed to get a hand between their lips before Vincenzo could kiss her mindless.

  "Amante." Somehow, the man managed to look innocent. "We are not married."

  Sabrina gazed at him in disbelief. "What does that have to do with it?"

  "I have never made love to a woman who is not my wife."

  "No." Sabrina stared at him.

  "It is true. Carlotta was still a virgin when I married her."

  Vincenzo's weight was half on top of her, his delectable lips inches from hers. Sabrina was certain he was in the same state of want as herself.

  She was just as certain he would, indeed, pull back before either one of them had been satisfied. The man had the will of a crusader.

  "It's the painting," she whispered, suddenly understanding. "You won't do it because you don't have the painting. Right?"

  His eyes widened and he released a string of passionate Italian. "Will you forget about that ridiculous painting?"

  "No, it's you who can't forget about it," Sabrina claimed. "You won't make love to a woman until you have the stupid thing."

  Another litany in heated Italian rained down on her. His eyes blazed. "I will make you feel good. Very, very good."

  Sabrina believed this. The man was a magician. "But I want you to feel good, too." She raised a hand to caress his freshly-shaven jaw. If she couldn't get him his painting, at least she could give him this: the confidence he could, indeed, move on with his life. She whispered, "I want us to be together."

  He closed his eyes and turned his head aside, but Sabrina could feel the shudder that ran down his body.

  She was getting through. Or maybe four years of celibacy had left him hungrier than he'd bargained for.

  "No," he rasped. "Even if I were willing...I have no way to keep you from getting pregnant."

  Clever. He was correct to figure that was something that'd concern her.

  "But I do." Feeling smug, Sabrina smoothed her hand over his cheek again. "There's a box of condoms in my purse. It's on the dresser."

  He gave a soft whine, still struggling. "I have never used such a device in my life."

  Sabrina nearly laughed out loud. "I can show you how." She took the hand that had been against his face and slipped it under the waistband of his pajama bottoms.

  He went absolutely still, his body rigid, his eyes shut tight. When he opened his eyes again it was to glare down at her with such fierce pride that she withdrew her hand from that sensitive place. The next moment he swept off the bed.

  Dismay crashed through her—until she saw that he'd gone straight to the dresser. In the sunlight sneaking through the drawn curtains, she saw him swiftly upend her purse. The box of condoms fell out at the end of a stream of other objects. He grabbed it.

  For a man who'd never used such a device, he got it on in record time, after first shoving his pajama bottoms down and off.

  Sabrina had about one second to appreciate the sight of Vincenzo, every inch of him as gorgeous as the next, before he came stalking back toward the bed.

  She cautiously lowered from her elbows to her back as he drew over her, reciting a sharp lecture in Italian.

  She didn't have the foggiest idea what he was saying, but suspected it related to the insult she'd delivered his manhood in insinuating he wouldn't be able to figure out how to make love to her.

  Nudging her legs to fit him between, he punctuated his lecture with sharp kisses on Sabrina's jaw, her collarbone, the side of her breast. He hadn't quite finished the lecture when he pushed inside her.

/>   If she'd had any doubts about goading him into it, Sabrina forgot them in that moment. Oh, he felt marvelous, like no man had ever felt before, like he...fit. She pulled him close and he moved. Oh, how he moved. Strong, graceful, forceful.

  He made her feel...

  Sabrina held him tight, with her arms, with her legs.

  He made her feel...

  She closed her eyes as sensations of light and color and amazing pleasure built inside her, through her, around her. He made her feel...

  The pleasure built, stroking through him into her, then singing in her veins.

  "Sei tutto per me." The words came out of him huskily as he seemed to dig his way into her, into her bones and into her heart, surrounding her with that mysterious, incredible sensation.

  "Vincenzo!" Sabrina barely recognized her own voice as everything built to an incredible pitch. It was at the very top of the peak, when the world seemed to explode, that she realized exactly how Vincenzo made her feel. He made her feel...

  Like magic.

  ~~~

  It was going to be hard to top that. Yup, it might be a while, a long while, before Sabrina landed in bed with a man again, now knowing how the deed actually ought to be done.

  Still in a daze, she lay cuddled next to Vincenzo, one arm thrown over his chest, her head against his shoulder, and her heart beating very fast—almost as if she were frightened.

  Silly. What did she have to be frightened about? Nothing had changed, nothing at all. She was still herself, wasn't she? Even if, for a minute there, it had felt as though Vincenzo had pushed her out of herself and into a different person. Yes, it was as if a mold had been getting formed ever since she'd met this man, and just a minute ago, for a brief second, she'd flowed into that mold. For a brief second, she'd been someone else.

  It had been a terrifying second.

  She didn't want to be someone else. She didn't want to be a person who...needed. Yes, Vincenzo had basically saved her life with Darrel there. Yes, he'd surrendered to her, agreeing to make love all the way. But none of that was going to change who Sabrina was, or what she still had to do.

  "Tesoro." A kiss landed on her forehead.

  Sabrina tensed briefly, then relaxed. It was just a little kiss, that's all.

  "I see no reason we shouldn't spend the rest of the day here in bed." Vincenzo's chest expanded beneath her cheek as he yawned.

  Sabrina could think of several, starting with the fact she wasn't positive she could hold onto herself if she let this man touch her again. At the same time, she thought she might crack if she separated her cheek from his chest.

  "I think you will still get the money from Sylvio even if we do not leave for Italy until tomorrow." Vincenzo pressed another kiss on her forehead and chuckled. "I would very much like to see him pay you."

  Sabrina stilled. Her recently calmed terror swept over her again. Had he just said...? "'We'?'" she asked hoarsely.

  "Si. There is nothing more for us to do here. By flying to Italy we will make Sylvio happy. My mother, too."

  He had. He'd said 'we.' The word scared her so much she did manage to lift her head from his chest. She stared down at him. "'We?'" she asked again.

  His gaze up at her was tender. "Would you not like to go with me?"

  For one horrifying second she nearly got pushed into the new mold again. For that brief moment she thought she actually might like to go with him.

  "It's impossible," she declared.

  As he brushed her cheek with one hand, his gaze managed to get even more tender. "Do you think so?"

  Oh, he was dangerous. Had she ever thought otherwise? Sabrina's throat tightened as she scrambled to get out of the mold again. "I still have work to do here. Why do you think I need Sylvio to pay me?"

  "You need—?" Vincenzo's happy smile turned worried. "Is there someone else, tesoro? Besides the schifoso who put his hands on you, do you have more trouble I should know about?"

  God, he was horrible. So nice. "I have—I have business to take care of."

  "Business," Vincenzo repeated, confused.

  "Investments," Sabrina clarified, while hoping to muddy the waters.

  "Investments." Vincenzo's confusion turned into a frown.

  Sabrina pushed all the way off of him and out of the bed. She was starting to feel awfully naked.

  "Not trouble, but investments," Vincenzo mused. "Important enough 'investments' you must stay here to work on them." He propped himself on one elbow to watch as Sabrina plucked her dress off the bed. "Investments that are more important than what we have together."

  They had nothing together, but Sabrina decided to bypass that issue for the moment. "They're very important, yes." She stepped into her dress.

  "Is this where you have put all your 'take' over the years? 'Investments?'"

  "Oh, when I can." She'd put away every penny she didn't need for basic survival.

  "When you can." Vincenzo sounded much too perceptive.

  Sabrina began to fasten the buttons up the front of her dress.

  "Ah, no." Vincenzo's voice was soft. "This is about your revenge. The revenge you plot against the Castlewrights."

  Her fingers halted briefly on her buttons.

  "You have invested in something they own, is that correct?"

  Damn, but he was sharp.

  "Do you own enough to take over, Sabrina?"

  She brushed the front of her dress and looked over at him. If it weren't for the censorious expression on his face, he would have looked irresistible, with his dark hair ruffled and his bare chest rising from the tangled sheets. "Not the whole company," Sabrina decided to explain. "That would be out of my reach. Just a small part of their operation."

  "Small." His eyebrows lifted a fraction. "But crucial."

  She shrugged. "Pretty crucial." Absolutely crucial. He had no idea the care with which she'd built her plans, year by year, penny by penny.

  "And what do you plan to do, Sabrina?"

  Sabrina crossed to the dresser. The contents of her purse were spilled across its top. She could hear the disapproval in his voice, and it stiffened the muscles in her back. "They took something of mine, something very valuable. It's time for a payback."

  "Payback? What possible payback—?" Vincenzo stopped dead. His voice thinned. "No. Surely you don't think— Sabrina, that child is—what?—ten years old by now. What do you think to accomplish there?"

  With cold fingers, Sabrina gathered her things and put them back in her purse. "That is my concern." The truth was she wasn't exactly sure what she intended to accomplish. But it had to be something. Justice demanded it. And Jimmy was hers.

  "No." From the corner of her eye, she saw Vincenzo throw off the covers. "This is more than your concern." Completely naked, and apparently uncaring of the fact, he stepped out of bed.

  Had he always been this tall? Sabrina did her best to affect indifference to the sudden power he emanated as he walked toward her.

  "I have no idea what you're talking about," she declared.

  "This is no longer simply your business," he told Sabrina. "I am involved now, too."

  A dagger of fear went through her heart. But she made sure to look calm as she flicked a gaze up at him. "Is that so?"

  His nostrils flared. "You are my responsibility now, Sabrina. I cannot allow you to harm yourself this way."

  "Your responsibility?" Sabrina was so shocked, her jaw dropped open. "How on earth did I become that?"

  "You need to ask?" His eyes were like dark fire. "It is you I was meant to find, Sabrina. Not some lifeless canvas. It is you I was supposed to meet, to bring home. For four years I have been searching for you."

  The fear expanded exponentially in her chest. "No."

  "Yes." The blaze in his eyes softened, becoming more like a warm fire. "You are the lady I'm meant to bring home."

  "No," Sabrina repeated. "You're wrong." She had business, a score to settle with the Castlewrights. She wasn't Vincenzo's lady!

  He smi
led. This tall, crazy Italian man stood there, completely naked, and smiled with utter confidence. "I have been wrong before, amante, but not this time."

  She took a step back, shaking her head. She couldn't believe how frightened she felt, almost as if he were physically threatening her.

  "I admit there may be some complications in getting the proper documents," Vincenzo allowed, grinning widely now. "Particularly given your, er, history—but this I will take care of. It will be even simpler once we are married."

  "Married!" Sabrina could not believe she'd heard that word. But even in her shock and horror, she could feel herself sliding back into that crazy new mold. She could almost imagine herself linked, permanently, with Vincenzo. "Are you insane?" she asked, struggling to free herself. "We can't get married!"

  Tsking, he shook his head. "You are panicking, tesoro. But marriage is not such a strange idea. You know we belong together. You know it was meant. You know it as well as I do."

  The truly insane thing was she did feel a shaft of knowing, as if this crazy talk could have any kind of validity. That terrified Sabrina more than anything. "How could it be meant," Sabrina wanted to know, "when I still have things to do? Besides, you and I come from two different...worlds. The difference in culture and language are only the beginning—"

  "You could learn," Vincenzo interrupted. "I would help you."

  "I could learn? I could learn?"

  "I would take care of you," Vincenzo said softly.

  Despite the lack of volume, his words dropped into the moment with the impact of a cannonball.

  "That's it, isn't it?" Vincenzo asked, his voice still soft. "You do not want me to take care of you."

  Sabrina lifted her chin. "Well, it's certainly a part of it. I take care of myself."

  "Still!" Vincenzo's jaw tightened. "You do not trust me, still!"

  She held her ground, trembling now, but adamant. "Would you like to become dependent on me? Hm? How would you like that?"

  His eyes bored into her. "I already am."

  She stepped back, startled.

  His glaring eyes made him seem to gain on her without him moving any closer. "Haven't I put myself in your hands these past weeks? Haven't you been in control of my life and my dreams? But you cannot bring yourself to place one ounce of trust in me. You cannot force yourself to imagine that I might—just might—truly love you."